The Pearl Saga - Mistress of the Pearl Part 37

Kirlll Qandda wiped a line of sweat off his brow. "It's a photonic lock. I may not be able to open it."

Riane put her hand on the Deirus' thin shoulder. "All we are asking you to do is try."

The Deirus nodded. While he turned his attention to the lock, Riane told Thigpen to join Jura in her guard duty.

"Your eyes are better in this low light and so is your sense of smell." They both knew that Gyrgon carried with them the curious scent of clove oil and burnt musk. "I want you to station yourself farther down the corridor where you won't be seen but can see everything." She ruffled the Rappa's fur as she knelt beside her. "And remember," she whispered, "he is a second-cla.s.s citizen just as you once were."

"As you wish, Dar Sala-at."

As Thigpen trotted back down past where Jura crouched, waiting and listening, Riane rose and turned back to the door.

"It's not photonic after all." Kirlll Qandda's slender fingers were tap-tap-tapping the lock in a rhythm.

"It's sonic. Very unusual for a Gyrgon locking mechanism. Whatever is inside must be special, indeed."

"Then you can't open it," Riane said.

"I have been opening what was meant to be closed ever since I was six years old," Kirlll Qandda said.

"There were times when it was the only skill that kept me alive."

As he worked, Riane kept one eye over her shoulder, checking on Jura and their continued security.

"Almost," Kirlll Qandda said. "Almost." Tap-tap-tap. Click! "We're in."

A circular aperture set flush with the orb's side rolled noiselessly aside, and they saw in the ruddy illumination the black, seemingly bottomless moat that ringed the sphere, the metallic catwalk across which they walked to the lab itself, the lines of chambers lying like the sarcophagi of an ancient race. Kirlll Qandda pointed out the photon lines snaking from each chamber to a central plate in the floor.As they moved around to get a better look at the floorplate a shadow fell across them, and looking up, startled, they saw an amorphous shape dropping down on them.

Eat." Lujon pushed a plate of the cephalopod in jelly across the table. Kurgan shook his head. "Thank you, no."

"But you must. The toxin has depleted you. You need to build up your strength."

Lujon was looking at him in such a way that Kurgan knew he was laughing at him. He studied the disgusting foodstuff. Did he just see it move? Another furtive glance at Lujon convinced him that this wasn't even the kind of test Courion had been fond of putting him through. He knew that he would gain virtually nothing by eating the cephalopod, but if he did not, Lujon would know that he had a weakness he could exploit.

Without further thought, Kurgan dipped the first two fingers of his right hand, Sarakkonian style, scooping up rings of the cephalopod and its sticky jelly. He ate not just one mouthful, but all of it, careful under Lujon's critical eye not to swallow too quickly.

When Kurgan had finished, Lujon took the plate. "Regent of Kundala you may be," he said, "but you are still a child, you still have lessons to learn." He dumped the remainder of the jelly into a bronze drain set into the lowest part of the terrace. "This orquidia has been standing out for over a week. It is rotten with maggot eggs."

He held Kurgan's shoulders as Kurgan leaned over, retching, and vomited into the drain. "Not the least of your lessons, regent, is humility." He threw the plate away, rubbed his palms together fastidiously.

"I haven't thought of myself as a teacher in many years. To be honest, I have lacked the interest." His wrists lay atop his knees. His hands were again ready for anything. "But you interest me. You are not like other Stoggguls; not like other V'ornn, for the matter of that, and I feel as if you have as much to teach me as I have to teach you."

Lujon held out a tumbler of the blue liquid, but Kurgan grasped the entire pitcher and upended it over his own head. He sat there, letting the drippings rid his mouth of the taste of his own bile. There was a moment when the old murderous rage galvanized him. He was a millimeter from leaping up and gripping Lujon's neck in his fingers. It was not fear that drew him back from the brink of murder and, quite possibly, his own death. Nor was it caution because it appeared as if that had somehow been genetically hard-wired out of him. It was self-interest, pure and simple. Lujon had power-what kind and how much was yet to be determined. Kurgan fed on power. You did not kill the thing that made you stronger. So he spat out his murderous rage with the last horrific chunk of maggot-infested cephalopod. And yet the Old V'ornn had taught him never to let go of an affront until it had been repaid with hills of knives and seas of fire. From now on, whenever he looked at Lujon he would be limned in the color of revenge.

During this lull in the conversation, Lujon had been studying his nails. Now he said, "By the way, your having been so recently in Za Hara-at made me curious."

Kurgan p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and waited.

"Recently, we have come into information that an artifact lost there for some time has been found and removed from Za Hara-at. Stolen, you might say, yes. It is black and egg-shaped, not large but quite heavy. It is called a banestone." The Sarakkon's eyes flicked up at him. "Have you any knowledge of its whereabouts?"

"No." Kurgan shook his head. The last thing he would do would admit to having the banestone. "I do not."

"Pity. The banestone has great religious value, though nothing more."

Kurgan bit his lip to keep from laughing in Lujon's face. "What would a Sarakkon religious icon be doing buried in Za Hara-at?"

Lujon sat very still. "I never said that it was buried." Kurgan's pulses spiked. "The entire city is buried, Lujon." "Of course, of course." Lujon smiled his ripshark's smile. "The bane-stone does not have a religious significance for us. It does, however, for the sauromicians." "Sauromicians?""Yes. A group of dissident male priests. They hate and fear the Ra-mahan. You know, it occurs to us now that you could use them to destroy the last vestiges of Miina's minions. They would be only too happy to do so."

Kurgan did not care for the dark ripple that had so unexpectedly disturbed the ebb and flow of their newfound alliance. He cared even less for the fact that Lujon was trying to twist him into his own dark design. Lies, the Old V'ornn had said, were like wyr-beetles: where you found one, many must be hidden. "I can make inquiries concerning the banestone, if you like," he said easily. "We are in the process of mapping the city's layout so that it can be rebuilt."

Lujon's smile appeared frozen in place. His eyes had gone icy. "Do you really think that is wise, regent?"

"I can't see why not." The dark ripple was broadening, deepening, and he thought he caught a glimpse of what it might be like to have this being as an enemy rather than an ally.

"Za Hara-at is sacred. It was a site of vast power." "That was long ago."

"Who knows what lies buried in its ruins?" "Do you?"

"As you say, regent, that was long ago. So much of the ancient knowledge has been lost."

Lujon did know, or he had aligned himself with the sauromicians in order to find out. Either way, the lies were proliferating. "Precisely our thought," Kurgan said. "We will plunder the old at the same time we build the new. We grow weary of occupying a Kundalan capital. We wish to establish our own. A monument to the new Kundala under V'ornn rule." Kurgan, struggling to define the tremor of intent that was now threatening to break apart their delicate alliance, felt the need to do some serious ion cannon rattling. "You never answered my question. The Sarakkon are a seafaring race. The northern Korrush is very far from any body of water, let alone an ocean."

"Za Hara-at was once the nexus of all Kundala." It was an answer without real substance, and they both knew it.

Far below, the Sea of Blood churned itself into fragrant foam on the black-basalt rocks. A sea eagle swung across their field of vision, its long wings spread, riding thermals.

"Of course I will do what I can for you, Lujon. Rest a.s.sured that every member of the mapping party will be well questioned on this matter."

"Our thanks, regent. Perhaps one of your architects took it as a totem to inspire his work." Lujon rose. The interview was at an end.

20.

The Truth About Lovers.

When the blood-warm netting-one of many that hung from the ceiling of the lab-orb-fell on Riane, it was Kirlll Qandda who understood what it was, if not how it worked. He untangled it from her and, laying it on the floor, began a quick examination of it.

"What is it?" Riane whispered, crouched down beside him.

The Deirus pointed. "You see these fishlike shapes, they're semior-ganic chips. I believe it is a Gyrgon heuristic net."

"What is it used for?" Eleana asked.

Kirlll Qandda rose, and they followed him to the line of coffinlike chambers. Three of them held the bodies of children. They were not Gyrgon, were not V'ornn at all. They looked like Kundalan.

"You are aware, I am sure, of the Gyrgon requirement that all children of mixed species be rounded up and brought here to Receiving Spirit."

Riane nodded. Eleana's face was grim.

"Well, these are those children." Kirlll Qandda stared in a mixture of wonder and horror. "The Gyrgon are experimenting on them." He examined the holopanels attached to the chambers. "The subjects begin in these biochambers, and at some point I believe they are transferred to the heuristic nets for final somata-honing."

"Why?" Riane was far more horrified than he was, for she saw herself reflected in the faces of the hybrids. "What is the purpose of these experiments?"

"As you must also know, the vast majority of these mixed-species children do not survive." The Deirus shrugged. "It is possible the Gyrgon are trying to find a way to keep them alive."Eleana was shaking her head from side to side. "It doesn't make sense. The Gyrgon think of us as an inferior race. You would think they would consider any miscegenation an abomination."

"Eleana's right," Riane said. "They are thinking of a specific use for these poor children."

They heard the warning from Jura then and, leaving their speculation pooled with the heuristic net in the ruddy light of the lab-orb, headed for the door. Too late! They could hear voices approaching, and together they rolled the door closed, heard the lock click into place. Then they hurried back across the alloy gangway and scuttled into the deepest shadows they could find. Huddled behind one of the biochambers, they saw the door roll open and two very tall figures enter the lab-orb.

I have you now." There was an unmistakable note of triumph in Gul Aluf's voice. "I have you just where I want you."

"So this is your hive," Sahor said.

"My home away from home." Her eyes were s.h.i.+ning in triumph. "The place you swore you would never set foot in."

Then she spotted the heuristic net that had come loose from its ceiling moorings and went over to pick it up. Sahor could see the bits of dried blood and bone that had not yet been absorbed by the semi-sentient heuristic computer network.

He turned away, scrutinizing her elaborate setup. He was disgusted at what he saw: the coffinlike biochambers, more heuristic nets hung from the ceiling like ominous webs. And then he felt something and immediately a tiny icy thread went through him. He kept his demeanor, the tone of his voice, the language of his body the same, for he knew with utter certainty that if he altered any of them even an iota, she would spot it and become suspicious.

"The heuristic nets are malfunctioning," she said. "I am not certain, but they may be part of the problem. Lately, I have begun work on a complete redesign." She held it out to him, b.l.o.o.d.y bone chips and all. "What do you think?"

Sahor picked over the network of semiorganic chips and biocircuits. It was based on the same technological platform as the Gyrgon ion exomatrix, and when he asked her, Gul Aluf confirmed this. He saw the problem right away because it was something he had worked on for months while he was still Nith, while he was trying to figure out a way to preserve his dying father's essence in another form. He had only partially solved the problem when he was forced by his father's illness to put his theories into practice. The result was the Teyj-matrix, objectively astonis.h.i.+ng, true enough, but for him an unsatisfying victory inasmuch as Nith Einon's powers were severely curtailed because of the matrix's limitations. He had worked on improvements, intending to return his father to a perfect simulacrum of his original body, but circ.u.mstances had required that he use it on himself instead. He had put his essence into the fragile body of Eleana's dying son. The infant was half-V'ornn by way of her rape at the hands of Kurgan Stogggul, but his corpus was already rejecting the V'ornn part as incompatible. Injecting himself-the very strands of his Gyrgon-enhanced DNA-had reversed the rejection, reconciled the incompatibility, and from this unique baby he had been born.

"The concept is all wrong," he said, giving her back the heuristic net. "It won't sustain Kundalan life the way it will Gyrgon."

She scowled. "Why not? I made certain that all the Kundalan biological needs were properly met."

"It's not a matter of biology, but rather automatism."

"It would be just like you to muddy the equation with philosophy."

"We believe that our bodies are essentially machines whose functions are accompanied but not controlled by consciousness."

"Yes, yes," she said, impatient with him. "We Guls teach that within the first weeks of life."

"The trouble," he said, "is that it's wrong."

"What?"

"At least as far as the Kundalan are concerned.""You will cease this heretical talk immediately!"

"Their consciousness is expanded. It controls, more or less, their bodies."

"How can you-!"

"It is the only explanation for their sorcery." He took her by the shoulders. "Gul Aluf, don't you see?

It's all so obvious. You have only to look at the problem in the proper fas.h.i.+on."

"You mean be corrupted by your twisted thinking."

She broke away from him, spread her wings, and, lofted into the dense, stultifying atmosphere of the lab-orb, returned the defective heuristic net to its circuit clamps high above his head.

He took the opportunity to dart his gaze this way and that. No, he had not been mistaken. He sensed Riane, hidden there, still as a shadow. By her side, Eleana. And someone else, a V'ornn, of all things, a Deirus! There were many unexpected mutations that had arisen as a result of his transformation. This was one of them. He could feel Riane as clearly as if he were seeing her. The intruders were crouched behind the farthest of the biochambers, veiled by deepest shadow, but it was on Riane that he was concentrated.

Something had changed in her, some doubt had crept into her, eroding the fabric of her belief in herself.

What it was or where it had come from he could not say, but its very presence disturbed him profoundly.

All around her he sensed a rippling of the atmosphere, and with a little tremor of recognition he knew that she had cast a spell around them. He did not, of course, know which spell. He had little specific knowledge of Kundalan sorcery. Nevertheless, his ability to sense them was unaffected by it. The innate scientist within him was galvanized as an entirely new spectrum of possibilities opened up to him. Queries stretched out before him like unfinished theories. Queries at the moment without solutions.

Gul Aluf descended too soon, alighting in front of him, forcing him to put aside the mountain of conundrums. He pressed his point. "Listen to me, you said yourself that you have ensured that all the biological circuits were correct."

She watched him with care and perhaps a touch of wariness. "Possibly I made a mistake."

"You don't make mistakes. But just to be certain, I double-checked. The failure of the heuristic nets is not about biology. It does not-it cannot as currently designed-take into account the expanded Kundalan consciousness."

Gul Aluf looked away and, for a heart-stopping instant Sahor was afraid that she had become aware of the intruders in her domain. "I thought only the priestesses-what do you call them?"

"Ramahan."

Her head swung back toward him, and her magnificent eyes raked over him like salt in a wound. "I thought only the Ramahan were capable of sorcery."

"It is a matter of training-and then there is the Gift. Only those Ramahan with the Gift have the ability to grasp Five Moon sorcery, what the Kundalan call Osoru. But there is another discipline known as Kyofu, the Black Dreaming sorcery, that is within the reach of all Ramahan, even Kundalan who have not had the Ramahan's years of training." He could see that he had her full attention. Had she also put aside her arrogance, her adamantine faith in her own point of view? "None of it would be possible without the Kundalan expanded consciousness."

"If all this is true, Sahor, then how is it that we defeated them so easily, so quickly, so thoroughly?"

"The answer is simple enough. Initially, they did not oppose us." He could see her skepticism, and he took her and turned her so that her back was to the place where the intruders were hiding. "While we defeated them easily enough and quite quickly, I would not a.s.sume that their defeat is as thorough as it appears on the surface."

She laughed, but there was no pleasure in the sound. "What are you implying? That in addition to fearing the Centophennni we should fear the Kundalan slaves as well?"

"I am saying that we should take the time thoroughly to consider what we do here."

"We do not have that luxury, even if we were so inclined." She wrapped him in her arms. "I accept that you won't help me here, won't help me directly. But won't you let me take you into Nith Batox.x.x's lab-orb? If anyone can find what we cannot, it is you."

It was a stalemate. He had not moved her one iota. "Are you certain you want me to see such privileged information?""I know you." She smiled into his face, a smile that was all sharp teeth. "You want to know what Nith Batox.x.x was up to as much as I do."

It was true, he did. If she was right, and there was any chance that Nith Batox.x.x had been experimenting with the melding of the two species, he had to know. Besides, he felt that the longer he had to work on her, the better chance he would have of changing her seemingly intractable point of view.

"I have missed you, Sahor." She c.o.c.ked her head. Her eyes seemed to see clear through him. "I never should have let you walk out on me." She felt she had him now, and a little s.h.i.+ver ran through her. She put her head against his shoulder and breathed him in.

He could not help a quick glance over to where Riane crouched. He could sense her watching him through the Osoru spell.

But a glance was all he got, because, with a soft rustle, Gul Aluf's wings spread, section by section, the red light running through their gossamer, biochip-studded membranes like veins of photons. From their very tips, they curled around until they had completely enfolded him into her embrace.