Part 26 (1/2)
Herek was startled. ”You know?”
”I guessed.”What need has that kind for a transmitter? ”Tell me details.”
”The system was stripped of certain key facilities. Signal augmentation, relay input . . . they're working on a complete a.n.a.lysis now. Enough hardware missing to drop the fighter's basema.s.s below its normal range. Although to accept such a handicap . . . I just can't understand it.”
Zatar did, but said nothing to enlighten him. Now was not the time; there were political ramifications to what the Conqueror had done, and he wanted them firmly in hand before he revealed the truth.
This, too, would ultimately serve his purpose.
”It's not necessary to understand it,” he counseled. ”It's been done; it remains for us to respond effectively. And we mustn't a.s.sume that because the equipment is missing, the fighter was out of touch with its mothers.h.i.+p.” Just the opposite.
”It's more than likely that they compensated elsewhere.”
”They must have,” he agreed, but his expression said How?
”As for the rest of it: You've been fighting one enemy, Herek, though the truth has been obscured by your circ.u.mstances. The Starcommander of the Conqueror is your nemesis; a.n.a.lyze his strategy, and you will find the key to victory. And there'll be other benefits, as well. When we attributed the Conqueror's battles to other commanders, we were handicapped in a.n.a.lyzing their work as well. Garran certainly has its a.n.a.lytic work cut out for it,” he mused.
”With all due respect to House of War,” Herek dared, ”I've begun such work myself. When you first mentioned your suspicions to me-”
”No need to excuse yourself, Talon-Commander. I commend your initiative, and your skill. I have no doubt that you will be able to adapt to this new information, and adjust your plans accordingly.”
Trembling slightly, Herek bowed his head. ”Of course, Lord Commander.”
You are mine, Zatar thought. It was an excellent start. ”I had hoped-”
YOU HAVE A VISITOR, the computer informed him. In confirmation, the portal chimed.
”Who is it?”
FIRST SWORD SEZAL.
”Let him in.”
The door hissed open.
Sezal was a ma.s.s of bruises, even as Zatar was, but he bore his wounds with naked pride, having no cosmetics to disguise them. His eyes were rimmed in red but they were alert, and if his face tightened in pain as he forced himself across the room that was only to be expected. Unlike Zatar, he was merely human.
”My Lord,” he whispered. There was awe in his voice, a depth of emotion as new to him as it was to Zatar. Perhaps it was the memory of what the Braxana had done, and against what odds, that overwhelmed him; perhaps it was simply the unflawed visage which the Braxana presented, bruises masked by makeup and a body that refused to acknowledge pain. Either way, the image had its desired effect.
Painfully lowering himself onto one knee, he extended his arms in the manner required by the rites of formal submission. ”It is an honor to serve you,” he said.
It was worth all the pain to receive such a gesture. Pain was but temporary; the loyalty of such men as these was priceless. Zatar approached Sezal, moving with a grace that belied his suffering, and set his hands about the pilot's wrists. ”You don't know what you're offering,” he warned him, ”but that which you understand, I accept.” He released his wrists without saying the ritual words: I choose not to bind you. Sezal didn't know that his gesture of submission, inspired by the pa.s.sion of the moment, made him Zatar's property according to Braxana tribal law. And there was no reason to tell him; that he was moved to do it in the first place was enough.
”You'll be going back to Garran?” Herek asked quietly. There was a hint of regret in his voice.
”Back to Braxi,” Zatar corrected. He helped Sezal to his feet, though he barely had the strength to do so. ”After sending a full report to Garran, of course. But I have things at home that require my attention.” Such as research. Politics.
Planning.
What would you say if you knew that your enemy was psychic?
”Will you be returning to the Border?” Herek asked quietly.
He looked at the Talon-Commander, read his expression for what it was and smiled. You are mine, he thought. You and the pilots-you and your crew.
”I will,” he promised them. ”In my own s.h.i.+p. When the time is right.”
The future was beckoning.
Viton: The relations.h.i.+p between hatred and desire is this: That they are born of the same pa.s.sionate source; that, being observed, they are often confused; and that each one intensifies the other.
Fifteen.
1.
Sila opened the door noisily, that the Kaim'eri might be warned of her entrance.
”Ah, what timing! Zatar, your Mistress is unequaled in her choice of servants.”
”I pick them out myself, you know that, Sechaveh-or you should. Have some wine.”
The delicately built Duveix woman knelt before him, extending the jeweled tray with its three full gla.s.ses. Sechaveh removed one and nodded her toward Yiril.
”The air of fragility appeals to me.”
Zatar smiled. ”I thought it would.”
”Am I so predictable?”
His dark eyes were eloquent over the rim of his goblet as he sipped the wine.
”Sometimes.”
They took the moment to taste the vintage and comment in low voices upon its quality; not until the woman had left and the soundproofing was reset did they take up their conversation again.
”I'm with you,” Sechaveh said. ”For my own reasons, of course. And I don't necessarily approve of your methods. But I'll support you.”
Zatar raised an eyebrow in Yiril's direction.
The Kaim'era shrugged. ”Who am I to defy the great Zatar?”
”I want more than that, Yiril.”
”What can I give you? You show me plans based on superst.i.tious fears. You tell me how you'll manipulate fools. I have to ask if that's enough.”