WARP world (22 page)

Turning back to the monitor in the Processor’s office, he watched the young woman try to flee from the guards sent to collect her. She ran to the corner, lashed out and screamed until they were forced to stun her. Then, without production, they lifted her limp body from the floor.

Segkel; unortho and brilliant, rebellious, a gambler, competitive, and with a chip on his shoulder big enough to ensure that he would forever push to prove his worth, that he was better than the House brats and fifth generation Theorist offspring whose crisp uniforms would always remind him that he was the son of a recycler overseer, who could barely afford his tuition. He could have been softer on the boy. He could have revealed to him the truths he himself had learned the hardest way possible, could have guided him down a more empathetic path, been more of a companion and less of an antagonist, perhaps even offered him that ingredient most absent from his life: love. But love and empathy were not what would drive Segkel to the ambitious extremes he would need to enact change on this World.

And so he had, according to the plan formed years before Segkel’s arrival in his class, exploited the boy’s nature and shaped him into the kind of Theorist who would plan a multi-strike raid on his very first extrans and venture off solo among primitive Outers. Primitives who were dangerous enough to severely wound a veteran recon bodyguard.

Naturally enough, Segkel did not share all of Jarin’s unortho views on caj, though his choice to refuse the ownership of caj was one area in which he had always believed he and his pupil found common ground. Admittedly, such a choice bordered on radical unorthodoxy, and only Jarin’s prestige and notoriety allowed him to carry on in a manner that would be considered scandalous in a newly graduated Theorist.

Regardless, he would have to keep his tongue on the matter. Were it to be known that he was corrupting his students with his viewpoints, even his esteemed seniority would not be enough to protect his position within the Guild.

Rebelling against the caj system was tantamount to rebelling against the entire underpinnings of their society. The People justified their every action on the basis that they were superior to all other inhabitants of the universe. Therefore, making prey of those other inhabitants was likewise justified. Breaking out of that nigh-religious conviction took more than rhetoric, it took personal experience with the process.

And as well as he had succeeded in the direction of his student’s other traits, Segkel’s anger and arrogance still required a degree of control that he had not yet achieved. In truth he had not yet even recognized the need for control. For the boy’s sake and safety, Jarin hoped Segkel would keep these more volatile aspects of his personality in check at least until his first mission was behind him. But, once again, these were traits Jarin had encouraged when they served his purpose.

He had made Segkel logical, hard and cold. For the good of the People, for the good of the World.

“Your caj will be awake in about 20 minutes, Theorist Svestil. Can we load it into the trans for you?” The Processor jarred him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, thank you,” Jarin answered, and pressed his thumb to the digipad held out to authorize the girl’s release.

“Are you certain it’s not to be processed or grafted? If you were watching the monitor—” the Processor gestured to the screen that had shown the girl’s hysterical state.

“Quite certain. If that is all…”

“We’ll forward the registration documentation to you and a copy to Theorist Eraranat.”

“Good,” Jarin said, then offered a curt nod and passed through the open door.

For the good of the People
, he thought, his mouth turned down in a frown as he climbed into the private trans and stared at the unconscious body of Segkel’s first slave.

Fees paid and registration complete, Ama tucked the leather folder containing the
Naida
’s documentation under her arm and ran down the steps of the Port Captain’s office to the line of cartuls waiting for passengers. Back on the boat, Seg lay unconscious in his quarters; she felt a slight pang of guilt about that.

From the selection, she chose a small, open-air cartul hitched to a lean and sturdy looking half-horse. Speed was paramount and her cousin, Brin, lived well outside of the sprawling city. The ride would cost her twice as much as it would have in Alisir, one of many reasons she hated this place.

T’ueve, beacon of civilization. Gleaming white, it rose like a drexla’s tooth from the water. High above the city, the Sky Temple loomed–the sharpest point of the tooth, silhouetted against the setting sun. As the cartul rumbled over the cobblestone streets, Ama raised her gaze to the distant temple. Somewhere behind its walls, Stevan Kalder was busy with his daily rituals, believing himself chosen, protected, unique. For his sake, she hoped her brother was enjoying his remaining moments among the elite.

Guilt tickled her once more, as the driver slowed for a procession of luxe, Damiar cartuls that clogged up most of the other side of the street. Stevan would miss his ascension, he would never be a Shasir’threa, something he had studied, trained for and dreamed of most of his young life. But his temple and his fellow priests were a target for Seg’s invasion; regardless of their differences, Stevan was family, and Ama couldn’t risk losing him.

Which is why she had concocted her plan.

As they had approached T’ueve, she and Seg had talked in more detail about his mission, specifically his plans for his next destination, the T’ueve Sky Temple. According to him, he possessed some piece of equipment—not magic, there was no such thing as magic, he constantly reminded her—that could detect the vita he sought. The closer he could get to the sources of the vita, the better.

“T’ueve isn’t like Alisir,” she had informed him. “The Sky Temple is the training ground for the Dua, the repository of their knowledge, and a port for the skyships. You can’t just walk in uninvited. Even disguised as a Damiar Lord, you won’t be allowed in.”

And then, before he could reply, she blurted out, “Unless you want to marry me.”

Seg’s eyebrows rose as he pondered the suggestion, then his face fell back into its usual state of composure. “You have a plan?”

“I do.” She didn’t, but one was forming. “Take the wheel. I’ll go fetch us some grint then I’ll give you the details.”

When Ama returned from the galley, she pressed a hot mug into his hands and hooked the wheel on course.

“My brother is a Shasir’dua on the verge of ascension, he’s lived at the T’ueve Sky Temple for two years. It’s rare for a Kenda to be accepted into Shasir schooling at all, and rarer still for our kind to ascend into the ranks of the holy men, let alone to make it as far as the Dua.”

Seg raised the cup to his lips then paused, his eyebrows rising a few degrees.

“Believe me, my family was ecstatic when Stevan was chosen to be sent there. They practically interrogated him for details. I know more about the T’ueve Sky Temple than I ever wanted to. Of course, I, being a lowly Kenda woman, can’t just go strolling onto sacred grounds for a friendly visit with him. There are only three ways I can ask for an audience with my brother. I can come to notify him of a death in his family but chances are they wouldn’t allow me to see him for that; they’d simply pass along the sad news.” As if the Shasir would mourn the death of a Kenda.

“I can bring a new child of mine for his blessing.” Seg nodded, understanding this was an impossibility. “Exactly. Which leaves us with option three. I can ask him to bless my marriage. The best part of this is I’m expected to bring my future mate with me for the blessing.” She paused a beat, “That would be you…sweetheart.”

Momentum was on her side.

“Once we’re inside the inner gates, we’ll be alone with Stevan, in his sanctuary, for the blessing. As with all Shasir nonsense, these blessings take an eternity, which will work in our favour. All we need is a way to knock him out for a short time. I have some furien—that’s a drug—if we’re able to slip it into his ceremonial tea, that would do the trick.”

Ama was surprised at how quickly the wheels of her mind were spinning, as if she were born to this.

“From Stevan’s chambers, you can access any of the inner rooms of the temple, to do…whatever it is you do. So, what do you think?”

“I think,” Seg said, as he considered her idea, “that you’ll also want to extract your brother from the danger zone as well. If your brother is among the Shasir, his life will be at risk.” He took a long drink. “We can drug your brother, or I can immobilize him with the stunner if I can get to within arm’s reach. If there is a way to get him out of the temple, you can deposit him where you will, and he won’t be taken for caj if he’s among your people.”

“Yes, that’s…” the words stopped in Ama’s mouth. The entire reason for her plan was to alert Stevan to the danger, which she would have done using Kenda code. But Seg didn’t know that. “That’s a good idea. I’ll find a way to get him out.”

Seg swallowed the rest of the grint in a fast gulp. His throat was still raw from his near drowning and the heat of the liquid drew a grimace. “You’ll teach me the protocols expected in such a situation. I can’t risk discovery; our cover must be flawless.” He blinked and wobbled slightly.

“Are you alright?” Ama asked. “You look tired, maybe you should lie down.”

“I’m fine. Now, I’ll need you to go through the wardrobe I’ve…” he teetered again, the empty cup fell from his hand, and Ama caught him just before he dropped to the deck. His weight pulled her downward until she was on her knees.

“Sorry,” she said, as Seg hung limp and unconscious in her arms. “Maybe I can trust you, maybe you will spare my people, but I can’t take that chance.”

As soon as she was docked, she dragged him below deck and dropped him on the bed. In truth, she envied him, she couldn’t remember feeling more fatigued in her entire life, especially after the tedious process of hauling him down the stairs. But rest was not an option. With the amount of furien she had slipped into his drink, he would be out for four or five hours; perhaps the only time she would have alone before his people attacked her world.

Light from the windows of Brin and Perla’s cottage was the most welcome sight Ama had ever seen, she swore she could smell Perla’s famous cooking long before the cartul rolled to a stop. She hopped to the ground, legs nearly buckling beneath her, and tossed the driver his coin. Her stomach growled as she approached the front door. Laughter echoed from inside.

There wouldn’t be much laughter after her visit, she imagined.

She leaned forward, head against the wood door, one hand smoothing over her nove, which she had repaired before arriving in port. Maybe she should have just taken her chances with Seg? Did she really have to involve her cousin and spoil the circle of bliss that was his family?

Before she could answer, the door opened.

“Ama?”

Brin filled the doorway, his thick mane of hair glowed gold in the lantern light of the cottage.

“I need your help,” she said, took one step forward, and collapsed into his arms.

Lady Uval blew her nose, yet again, into Judicia Serval’s hankie. “I can’t believe it. No, I won’t, I won’t!”

A Welf servant fluttered nervously behind her, waiting for the hysterics to subside in order to hand her mistress the cup of tea she had demanded. The hysterics, however, showed no discernable sign of abating.

“Dead? My Flavert?” she launched into a fresh round of sobs, as Judicia Serval and his two constables shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.

“I’m afraid that’s not the worst of it,” the Judicia said, leaping on a quiet moment.

Lady Uval sniffed, and raised her face. “What…?”

“Your husband was murdered.” He paused as she gasped. “One of his guards escaped the attack and swam to shore. He told us everything.”

The tears stopped, Lady Uval’s eyes widened, her lips formed the beginning of a word, several times, before she finally spoke. “Murdered?” she whispered.

“You and Lord Uval recently used the services of a female Kenda for a devotional tour on the Halif River, is that true?”