Ice and Shadow (38 page)

The thread had wound and now was in a whirl which had begun to thicken, to encompass the darkness as if that had substance. And the darkness drew in farther and farther upon its own core until it was like a single nugget of pain and fear. This the thread netted and drew towards its own source.

Jofre was aware again of the woman beside him, of her body trembling in a hold he had tightened to keep her erect and steady. Then the last remaining fragments of the break-bond spread into him and his clasp on her shoulders would have fallen away save that there rang from her to him the issha touch—enough to steady him.

He accepted the break-bond as he would swallow some bitter potion if such an act was necessary. Then made one more call, issha—assha—he could not tell which answered but, as the blowing out of a lamp, the flash of a blaster, the darkness was gone.

Into its place there flowed something else—a warmth which was not of his own, not issha at all—alien—yet with no harm—rather lightness of spirit, peace of mind and heart. Jofre realized that their linkage still held but what it had done was more than they had thought—the Jat was free of that despair which would have killed it—but it was—rebonded—with them!

He could see over Taynad’s shoulder that the creature was no longer a hard ball in her arms. One of its small forepaws was raised, drawing the blunt finger growths down the Jewelbright’s cheek. It chirped inquiringly and she gave a small cry and hugged it closer, rocking a little back and forth as might one who had feared for a child and now found that fear had gone.

“Friend—” Jofre’s head jerked. The Jat had moved in Taynad’s hold and was now looking over her shoulder to him. Again its forepaw advanced, to stroke caressingly his hand which still caught at the Jewelbright. From that touch came the warmth and peace which he had earlier felt, but increased, as if fueled with the same power as one of the starships.

“You have done it!” The medic was standing over both of them, staring down at the Jat, which kept its hold on Jofre as well as remaining within the circle of Taynad’s arm.

For the first time Jofre heard the tinkle of the Jewelbright’s laugh.

“Perhaps not as the Patrol captain might wish,” she returned. “I am afraid that he will be unable to follow orders even now—Yan has rebonded with—” She glanced at Jofre. Her face had a slight softness which had gentled the masklike beauty she had always turned upon them. “Yan has bonded with—us!”

“And,” Jofre swiftly spoke for himself, “I do not think that you can try a second time.” He was surprised at the warmth of his own feelings. Issha were not bond-worthy except by oath, and certainly no oathing had passed here. Or had one which was deeper and wiser than that of Lair knowledge?

The woman also, he was sure that some of his feeling at least had been shared by her, known to her now. Which was a muddle—they had indeed wrought thoughtlessly, for it would seem that the two of them were now linked in a way unknown to their breed before—by one small, warm, and peace-spreading creature. He wondered what complications they had both drawn to them by what they had done.

He loosed his hold on Taynad, feeling a little awkward, but he reached forward to draw his hand in a half caress across the hobbling head of the Jat, between those up-pointed ears.

“You are sure?” The medic was demanding. “This is going to present a problem—”

“We are sure,” the Jewelbright answered calmly. “Though we could have done no other to save the little one’s life. Bond-breaking,” she shivered and her arm tightened a fraction about the small furry body, “is deadly.”

The medic looked at them both indecisively. “I shall have to report—” And with that he was gone.

Taynad waited until the door closed behind the spacer. Then she squared her body around on the bunk so she was facing Jofre as well as she could.

“Brother.” She had freed her one hand from the Jat and gave him finger greeting.

But dare he answer her as Shadow to Shadow? That was deceitful and not issha way.

“I am no longer of the Brothers,” he said, watching her face carefully, waiting for that small softening of the expression to vanish. “The story is a long one, Jewelbright. But thus it stands—” And quickly he sketched all which had happened to him since the morning when the Master had paid the Dead-Stone-price and he himself had been denied. Though he did not mention his night in Qaw-en-itter nor his find there, for that was something he felt he could not share—there was too great a secret about it and he must have the unlocking of that first himself.

“You are issha—for all the blathering of the Shagga,” she returned unexpectedly. “Have you not followed the proper pattern and oathed yourself—and to a lord who is well worth the serving? Do you think we could have linked to free this one,” she glanced down at the Jat and then to him again, “if you were not a true Shadow? The Shagga sometimes take too much on themselves.”

He was startled by her questioning of authority. Perhaps in some fashion she, too, had had something to be angry over after some priestly encounter. But that she accepted him—with a lift of heart he solemnly made the gesture of welcome and dared to change it so that it was not just to a Shadow met in passing but to one who shared a common goal.

CHAPTER 20

ONCE MORE THEY WERE GATHERED
in the office of the Patrol captain but this time two more had been added to their number. These were Tssekians but not in the uniforms the unwilling visitors had seen everywhere during their travels in the city and at the keep of the Holder. It seemed to Jofre that they were trying to make a special effort to break with the restraints of their former clothing. For one wore a one-piece suit of green girded by a brilliant scarlet belt and the other a loose shirt of crimson over dull purplish breeches. But both were armed, carrying a fringe of various weapons about their waists and slung across their shoulders, and the speaker for the duo was a woman.

“We have no quarrel with the Learned One,” she spoke the trade tongue with an accent as if it was one she was not used to using. “He and his guard were brought here against their wills and what he would have used for the purpose of increasing knowledge was not misused—it showed us the first great treachery of that one—” Her lips moved now as if she would spit, though she did not. “That which is his and that which belongs to his man, we have brought with us.”

Zurzal inclined his head in a small formal nod. “My thanks for your courtesy. I bear no ill will to those of you who now rule here.”

“This other,” the woman had only nodded curtly in answer to the Zacathan, as if she had already dismissed him from her mind and all dealings with him were completed. Now she was looking at Taynad. “This other was also brought here for a purpose—but one differing from your case, Learned One. Therefore, she is not to be judged as you—”

Jofre stirred. He had had little time to do more than acquaint Zurzal with the news that the Jewelbright was issha and that her mission was aborted with the fall of the Holder. Now he saw her head come up and she met the Tssekian woman eye to eye, almost in direct challenge.

“Why did you come—plaything?” There was scathing contempt in that last word. But Taynad showed no sign that any sting of that reached her.

“It seemed that the Horde Commander Sopt s’Qu had some thought of pleasing his overlord,” she returned calmly. “Thus I was included in this plan.”

The Tssekian scowled. “Sopt s’Qu is dead,” she said flatly. “The one he served will be held to face the wrath of the people. What should be done with you?”

Jofre tensed but Taynad spoke before he could make any protest.

“The man with whom I made my bargain is dead; the man for whom that bargain was made will be otherwise occupied. My reason for visiting Tssek has ceased to exist.”

The Tssekian woman continued to measure the Jewelbright and there was nothing soft in that harsh stare.

“Your kind are without value,” she almost spat the words. “We want no taint of you in our lives. Since you had no time to work any true mischief here, we shall send you off-world with these others.”

“That is your right,” conceded Taynad, “nor have I any wish to remain here.”

“You brought with you gauds—”

“To which you are now entitled,” Taynad interrupted. “Since such were of the Horde Commander’s gift and so belong to Tssek. I do not ask for any accounting of them.”

“Well for you!” The woman was determined not to be bettered in their subtle struggle. “So, off-worlder,” she now looked to the Patrol captain, “these are now your responsibility. Let them return to their own places, we need nothing of them. The Council meets tomorrow; we shall be speaking with you again concerning regulations for off-worlders—some of those will be changed.”

She stood up, adjusted a fraction the swing of her weapon slung across her shoulder, and moved towards the door without another word or look.

“Well, it seems it is all decided,” the port commander said briskly as the two Tssekians disappeared. “There is no reason, Captain, why these three must be retained to answer questions now—or at least I cannot imagine any. According to the wishes of this planet’s people the sooner they are gone the better. There is the courier attached to the port service which is due to lift for Wayright. Quarters may be a little cramped,” he spoke now to Zurzal, “but the courier service is fast and there is no other ship due for some time. In fact the local disturbances here may be a warn-off for freighters in company service. They will want to be sure the new regime is well rooted before they start negotiations again.”

The Patrol captain was frowning.

“Learned One, I intend to send a full report of this whole matter to headquarters. This is very close to interference with planetary affairs, and, if proven, that can keep you safely out of space wandering. You, Gentlefem,” he said more slowly, “were also undoubtedly intended to interfere with matters as they stood. That you did not have a chance to do so was merely fortune. I shall recommend that you be returned to your Asborgan and not permitted off that world again.”

She did not answer him but the Zacathan did. “Send your report, Captain. You will be following the proper procedure. But know this, I shall also offer an explanation of what was done against my will; also I intend to speak for this gentlefem who was legally hired by the laws of her own world, brought to Tssek and then, not only dismissed from service but deprived of the payment promised her. She dealt in good faith and therefore cannot be held responsible for what another deems she might have done—a very unsure assumption.

“For the present I consider her as one of my party and ask that she accompany us to Wayright without prejudice. You cannot condemn anyone for a crime which was not committed and perhaps never would have been except as you speculate.”

The port commander was nodding in time to the last words. “He has the right of it. Submit your report, Captain, and I shall also submit mine. The Tssekians find no fault with these people; instead they freely admit that the Learned One was kidnapped. That his machine worked in part, even aided what they had planned to do, for it betrayed the fact that the Holder had been a traitor to his predecessor. I can believe that such glimpses into the pasts of all of us might turn up some unpleasant and dangerous decisions and events. However, it is the Learned One’s desire to use his scanner only in the field of archeology—to present a past so far removed that its summoning will have no effect on the modern day.”

“It is wrong—” the captain exploded.

“As you see it. But let us leave such judgments to the higher authorities. What happened on Tssek was a forced use of what might be a very important thing. Now,” he spoke once more to the Zacathan, “you will leave with the courier and I promise you as quick a trip as possible. I cannot assure you there will be no questions raised when you reach Wayright—but that will be your concern.”

“We shall be most pleased—” Zurzal said. His neck frill, which had shown some traces of color and a tendency to flutter at the edges, now lay peacefully at rest.

When they had time to themselves the Zacathan spoke to Taynad. “Since they have deprived you of your wardrobe and other necessities of travel, allow me to make up that loss at least in part.”

“You are very generous, Learned One.” Her answer came in a colorless voice. The Jat had hunted her out and now cuddled against her. “I cannot promise any repayment. In the eyes of those I return to I may be considered one who has failed.”

“Death cancels an oath!” Jofre broke in. “Sopt s’Qu is dead. And the Holder will soon be, judging by the attitude of these Tssekians we have just seen. Also—were you oathed directly to him or to his subordinate?”

“To the Horde Commander.”

“Who is, I repeat, dead. You cannot serve a dead man.”

She could, of course. That, too, was part of issha training, but there was no reason for her to use her knife on herself in this situation—the oath was not a full service one he was sure.

“At any rate,” she returned, “we have to wait on the fate shadowing us. Much is changed by time.”

Their voyage back to Wayright was both swift and smooth. For Jofre it was a far more comfortable one, even though their quarters were crowded. He had hoped to establish some closer communication with the Jewelbright. But she spoke only of service things, mainly of the Jat. And it was that creature which drew the two of them together.

Jofre was startled to learn that he could exchange vague thought-speech with Taynad if the Jat was with them both. This was something new in his experience and in the Sister’s also he believed, though she did not admit to it. Zurzal was greatly interested and set up some tests, but when he himself strove to try the same form of transference of ideas it was a failure. Apparently only the shared bonding allowed this.

At ship’s night measure before they planeted the Zacathan made a serious suggestion to Taynad.

“Gentlefem, I know of your way of life, and also that you are issha-trained. Perhaps what I have to offer is too far removed from that which you know and desire. But I would like to ask you to join with us—not oathed but as a partner in what is to be done on Lochan. That is a planet about which we know little—and where we would venture is wilderness. It is, I have been informed, a harsh world and not one to tempt a visit. There is danger to be found there. However, danger is not new to the issha-trained and your success with this small one who is alien to all of us, might be a factor for success or failure of what I would accomplish.

“For if you can bond with a Jat, then binding with other alien wildlife can certainly be hoped for. And where I would go the wildlife is said to be one of the greatest perils.”

She was smoothing her long fingers down the Jat’s furry back, sending the creature squirming and uttering small mews of pleasure. Away from her fantastic robes, dressed in the severeness of the spacer garb she had obtained at the port, she looked like another person.

Taynad studied the Zacathan. What she had seen of the man suggested trust. She was not sure that Jofre had been right, that death had broken her oath-binding. After all, by his own admission, the guard was no longer a true Shadow Brother. If she returned to Asborgan—if she would be able to return there—she had no funds and those possessions which she might have been able to pawn to secure such had been taken by the Tssekians—she might find herself in a difficult position. Doubtless on other worlds there existed the equivalent of Jewelbrights with their own manner of life—but to her that was a mask, a disguise only, and to think of it as
ALL
of one’s life was distasteful. The Zacathan’s suggestion promised hardship, but she had come from perilous and sometimes near-vicious schooling; she had no fears that she could not do as well as Jofre if it became a matter of survival. There was much in this offer which did interest her.

The binding with the Jat was something which still made her feel warm and good inside. Suppose she could indeed develop such a talent with other forms of life? It was truly something to consider seriously.

“Learned One, I cannot make answer until I know what awaits me in Asborgan. It may be that I shall be tied by another’s will. But—let it be as you wish for now!”

“Fair enough,” Zurzal returned. “We may have a period of waiting at Wayright port, for ships to Lochan are few.”

Taynad continued to gentle the Jat. Good, time she could use, not only to settle her own possible future but to discover what there was about this disowned Brother—she shot a glance at him as he stood checking some list the Zacathan had handed him—which gave her always the sense of hidden power.

His off-worlder blood showed in his greater height, even though beside Zurzal he was made to look small, slim, boyish—He had ice-grey eyes also, instead of the brown ones she was used to seeing, able to warm with fire, when the issha displayed skills in the arms court. Yet he moved with the unmistakable ease of any Shadow she had seen.

What had Zarn said concerning him when the disguised Shagga had attempted to get her to forego her mission and go after him? That he was a renegade, one who was the first in generations to break the Code of Vart, that he had stolen something of power—Still Zarn had been very wary in that part of his explanation of why Sister should turn against Brother.

She knew well that what Jofre had told her about his outlawing from Ho-Le-Far was the truth. Deep-trained could not so deceive deep-trained. He believed that it was Shagga hatred which had denied him his proper life and certainly it was Shagga hatred which had set Zarn scheming to bring him down.

They had linked to free the Jat and linkage would have speedily revealed to her any darkness in him. But—there was something—that power—a strength which she was well aware he possessed. Oddly enough she was also sure that he did not realize what he had—it was as if a man carried a bit of stone, perhaps as a luck piece, not realizing that what he grasped in truth was a gem of great price.

What made one Asshi? Oh, there were ceremonies and trials, all manner of testing. She had never been at such a raising herself but she had heard talk of such. Could it be that this off-worlder who was not of the true blood possessed that necessary extra core of power? Then—yes, it would explain the Shagga hatred—all the rest. They would never allow among them a Master who was not born of their own breed.

Nor would they—her thoughts carried logically forward—would they wish one with issha training and perhaps such dormant power, to really escape them. Better the death the Shagga had planned in the mountains, they would think. And perhaps most of the Brothers and Sisters would agree. Assha were jealous of their standing; it was the base of their inner powers, something which must not be questioned.

Taynad summoned now her own inner reactions to this outlaw. There was no hatred—why should there be? Hatred could be seeded, grown, used judiciously when it was needed to enhance inner power, but one did not nourish it without cause. He had been ready to stand for her before the port authorities; she had sensed that as completely as if he had spoken aloud.

He had linked, securely and well. And he had bonded—with the Jat—and perhaps also—at this new thought her head jerked a fraction—bonded with her? But that was impossible! There had been no oathing. Nor had this Zurzal offered that either when he had spoken of Lochan. He would take her free of any loyalty tie and this Brother would accept her so—she was sure of that.