Into Tolari Space (Tales of Tolari Space) (6 page)

He was on a bed in what looked like stronghold apothecaries’ quarters. Early morning sunlight was streaming through the windows, and there was an aide nearby, mixing something in a small cup. He tried to take a deep breath and spasmed a cough. The aide was instantly beside him.

“You have pain,” he said.

“Yes,” Kazryn rasped.

An apothecary appeared on the other side of the bed. “Do not speak yet,” she said while scanning him. “You can damage your voice. Nod or shake your head. I can sense your pain. It comes from taking a breath?”

He nodded.

She produced an instrument from somewhere and pressed it against his neck. After a few moments, his breathing eased. He smiled his thanks.

“Good,” she said. “Have you never had a cora reaction before?”

He shook his head.

“Unusual. Most what are sensitive get the reaction long before they reach full adulthood. How is it you could be a man full grown and never have the reaction till now?” As he shrugged, she appeared to be struck by a sudden thought. “Have you taken the Jorann’s blessing?” she asked.

His brows knit together – it was a strange question – and he nodded slowly. He braced for a blast of suspicion, but instead the apothecary appeared satisfied.

“This happens,” she said. “The Jorann’s blessing can make you sensitive to cora. It is not clear why, and there is no cure for it. You must never spray cora seed oil again, farmhand, nor eat cora fruit. Never.”

He nodded, allowing his confusion to show. He’d read all he could on the farm laborer’s trade before he left Suralia, but he’d never come across this information. Then he realized it might be because laborers, like most Tolari, never took the Jorann’s blessing. Only the ruling caste, caste leaders, and those with exceptional gifts or talents tended to make use of it to extend their lifespan.

“You are unusual, farmhand,” she continued. “Never met a farm laborer what had taken the Jorann’s blessing before. You surely must enjoy your trade.”

He shrugged.

“Well, neither fresh nor salt, so we say,” she
said. “You need to eat. Do you feel strong enough to walk?”

* * *

Small tremors shook Kazryn as he walked down the stronghold corridor from the apothecaries’ quarters. He closed his barriers as much as he dared before entering the refectory. Even so, the Monral looked around and frowned. He tried to make himself as inconspicuous as his impressive height would allow.
Bonded rulers
, he thought with a small shake of his head. Bonded rulers could almost smell each other. He grabbed some food and drink and headed for a table as far from the Monral as he could get. Some laborers, noticing him, invited him to eat with them. With no polite way to refuse, he smiled and took a seat at their table, closer to the Monral then he wanted to be. When they asked his name, he patted his throat and shook his head.

“Aye,” one of the laborers said. “Cora reaction, is it?”

He nodded with a rueful smile, glad he couldn’t answer more than yes-or-no questions. He swallowed painfully, letting the conversation flow around him, watching the Monral. Much to his relief, the ruler soon finished his meal and headed off to attend his duties. Kazryn sighed and paid more attention to the laborers. His attention pricked as they mentioned their current project: reinforcing the stronghold roof. He masked his interest and listened as he ate. Repairing the roof wouldn’t have caught his attention, but
reinforcing
it? The stronghold would only need that if the Monral wanted the roof to support something very heavy indeed. Such as an outworlder’s landing craft?

His table companions wondered aloud at their strange assignment, but they didn’t utter a word to question their ruler. He throttled his concern as they mentioned the modern materials they were using to complete their work. If
odalli
detected more than just stone up there ... Kazryn blessed the misfortune he was sensitive to cora. He was feeling weak and tremors still shook him, but he was learning valuable information without the risk of concealing an ulterior motive for his presence.

All too soon, the laborers left to start their work day. Kazryn pondered what to do as he went back to the apothecaries. He’d have a perfect opportunity to investigate, as soon as they released him. He planned and schemed as he walked, shaking but feeling stronger for the food and the chance to stretch his legs.

His grandmother would have been proud of him, he thought, scheming in an enemy stronghold. She’d been a consummate ruler, and nothing would have pleased her more than to trick an old enemy under his very roof.

The apothecary greeted him with a small cup. He rolled his eyes at it. “Had you any trouble swallowing your meal?” she asked.

He nodded, taking the cup and eying it with a sigh.

“Lie down before you drink that,” she said.

He swallowed the noxious potion and was asleep before he could finish thinking that apothecaries everywhere seemed to enjoy making their medicinals taste wretched.

* * *

At midafternoon, Kazryn woke, feeling no pain. He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, then opened his eyes and stretched. The apothecary who’d spoken to him in the morning appeared next to his bed.

“How do you feel?” He could sense her probing. “Aye, and you can speak now, if you do it soft.”

“Much better,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “You honor me with your skill, apothecary.”

“Aye, and you have manners, you do,” she replied, her eyebrows climbing her forehead. “Have you a name, farmhand?”

“Kazryn.”

“Well, Kazryn, and I am Syrana. It was my honor to serve you, and that of my colleague Durzyn. You can go back to Jer’s farm now, but work easy today and tomorrow. Long as your voice is hoarse, talk as little as you can. And get yourself a meal before you leave the stronghold. You missed the midday.”

“Yes, apothecary,” he said, slipping off the bed and bowing his thanks.

After getting himself a good hearty meal from the kitchens – which to his relief didn’t hurt his throat – he headed out of the stronghold. Once out of sight and out of range of the guards, he shut his barriers fully, camouflaged, and headed back in.

He went first to the roof, watching as workers reinforced the wood support beams and ancient stone with materials invented in the past hundred years. It was far beyond what any race in the Trade Alliance would expect from his apparently pre-industrial people. He shook his head silently. This was bad. All it would take was one observant outsider and the Tolari could be exposed for the highly advanced race they were.

Back down in the stronghold itself, he investigated the room in the family wing where he’d caught the strong smell on his first visit. The quarters were empty now, cleaned and deodorized, but he thought he could still catch a faint trace of the scent. He grinned when he noted the necessary had been replaced with chamber pots and the bathing area removed and replaced with large basins. The pieces of artwork scattered about were all composed of natural materials. He nodded. The Monral wasn’t being a complete fool. The beings lodged in these quarters wouldn’t have seen anything inconsistent with a pre-industrial culture.

He’d spent as much time as he dared before he needed to start back for Jeryth’s farm. The apothecaries would have informed her he had been released. He half-walked, half-ran as much as he could, surprised at how easily winded he was. When he started to near the farm, he slowed to a measured walk. He was as tired now as he wanted to appear.

Jeryneth came running up the road to greet him. She’d sensed him coming from quite a distance, he noted, shaking his head. The child had a huge range, in addition to being easily as sensitive as his celebrated advisor, Storaas. The Monral was a fool if he didn’t tap Jeryth’s daughter for deeper training. He hoped, for Jeryneth’s sake, the Monral visited the school to discover treasures like
her.

“Kazryn, Kazryn!” she cried as she reached him, jumping up and down, wanting to be picked up.

He clasped one of her little hands with his thumb and two fingers, tugging her along with him as he walked. “Forgive me, little one,” he said hoarsely, “I cannot pick you up today.”

Her eyes went huge. “You got sick!”

He gave her a warm smile. “Perhaps you should be an apothecary when you grow up,” he rasped.

She beamed. “I like the healers!” she exclaimed. “They came to the school one day and showed us what they do. They said I would be good at it.”

He nodded and cleared his throat. It didn’t help. “You would have to study hard,” he said.

“I know,” she said
with the certainty of the very young. “I like to study.”

He chuckled and fell silent as they entered the house.

“Fafea!” she called, running off. “Kazryn is home!”

Kazryn snorted and shook his head, bemused. Jeryth walked into the room with Jeryneth on one hip and a welcoming smile on her face. He bowed to her in apology and sat heavily in one of the sitting room chairs.

She returned the bow with a nod of her head. “Have you orders to work easy for a day or so?”

He nodded. “And talk little,” he said. His voice had become a basso rumble.

“My Jery had you talk too much already, so I can hear,” she said.

He shrugged and smiled. “Tired now,” he rasped.

“Aye, and the walk would do that to you. Have a rest till the evening meal then.” She set Jeryneth down. “Run along and help Marzaina in the laundry, Jery.” She followed her daughter out of the room.

* * *

Kazryn was stronger in the morning. Jeryth had him walk Jeryneth to school, giving him another brief chance to camouflage and investigate the stronghold. The roof reinforcement wasn’t finished, but he was relieved to see the workers had begun to conceal anything not made of stone or wood. His concerns allayed on that point, he slipped out of the stronghold and walked back to the farm, where he spent the day, at Jeryth’s behest, helping with light kitchen and house chores.

He went about the work with dampened spirits and less than his usual energy.
The stress of being a world away from his province and people was wearing on him and becoming painful. While folding robes in the laundry, he found himself motionless, caught in his thoughts, staring out the window with longing. He shook himself and turned his attention back to folding the robe in his hands, only to notice Marzaina gazing at him.

“Have you left someone behind, then?” she asked in a soft voice.

Many someones
. He nodded to Marzaina and applied himself to the clean laundry, closing himself up as much as he could without rousing her suspicion.

“Aye, and that will be pain enough for anyone,” she
said, almost to herself.

He glanced up and gave her a rueful smile
, then picked up another robe to fold. Marzaina left him to his thoughts.

For all that the work was light, he was exhausted by the end of the day. Excusing himself, he left the rest of the laborers relaxing in the sitting room and dropped onto his mat, half asleep by the time he lay down his head. Physical fatigue from the cora reaction was only part of his weariness. As long as he was away from Suralia, he would slowly weaken. He needed to finish this business, an
d soon.

A ruler and his people are one, he thought as he drifted toward sleep. Without each other, they have no purpose. How long would it be before his people began to sense something was wrong? He trusted the Jorann to know what she was doing by sending him here, but he desperately wished she had simply told the Monral to send the
odalli
to Suralia. He let go of that wish, and let his longing for his people be swallowed by sleep.

* * *

Deep in the night, Kazryn was awakened by a faint rumble of distant thunder. He frowned as his eyes opened. Was weather control malfunctioning? There shouldn’t be a storm during the harvest. He threw off his blanket and went to the window. In the distance, a point of light was descending on the stronghold.

A landing craft!
He pulled out the compressed package he’d been carrying and donned the loose trousers and embroidered robe it contained, then camouflaged and slipped out of the house, heading for the Monral’s stronghold as quickly as his still-healing lungs would allow. If all went well now, he would not need to return to the farm for any reason other than to apologize.

He arrived at the stronghold just as guards were closing the great doors. He vaulted over their heads and twisted sideways through the narrowing gap. Landing lightly, he dodged to one side and made his way to the audience room, willing his aching chest to breathe silently.

The small vessel’s occupants had not yet arrived there.
Excellent,
he thought. He had a few moments to catch his breath. The Monral was sitting on his heels on the dais, conferring with one of his advisors. Kazryn moved to one side and waited.

A guard near the door flickered, and all conversation ceased. Moments later, the
odalli
delegation entered the room.

Kazryn’s face went slack in shock. Though his barriers were shut, he slammed them tighter.
Humans!
So, they had finally begun exploring this end of the sector, after spending so many tens of years concentrating their focus on the Terosha Federation side of their space. It had only been a matter of time before they developed interstellar travel fast enough to indulge their thirst for exploration.