Beyond the Gate

Chapter 15

That night, Gallen wore his mantle to bed. The heavy metal ringlets were uncomfortable, and the many tiny knowledge crystals dangling from it tinkled when he moved his head. But he cared little for sleep this night. He needed knowledge, and so he lay thinking for a long time, wondering how best to speed their trip to Moree.

With his mantle’s many sensors, he could see around the room clearly, and he let the mantle heighten his hearing, until the creaking of timbers and water lapping the hull were well amplified. Maggie slept beside him in the narrow bunk, facing the wall, and Gallen enjoyed the sweet scent of her off-world perfumes.

He lay curled against her, smelling her hair, just holding her.

Outside, there was the occasional sound of a scout calling his reports, and the scurry of feet over the weather deck.

Gallen tried to call up files about the Tekkar, but he was using Veriasse’s old mantle, and Veriasse had never battled that race. His mantle carried information about the planet Tekkar-a fiendishly hot world where near-sentient dragons hunted by night. Gallen could guess at the specifications one might set in creating a subspecies to dwell on that world, but the reasons for colonizing the place at all were baffling.

And so after a bit of study, Gallen let his mantle seek files on other subspecies he would find on Tremonthin-size, coloration, distinctive features; visual, auditory, and olfactory sensitivity; speeds and strengths; various traits. The information he received was very discomfiting. He found that many races had been boosted for sensitivity, for dexterity, for intelligence, for fierceness.

The Lords of Tremonthin were designing subspecies to colonize thousands of worlds in this galaxy and beyond, yet Gallen saw that the attributes given to some made for incredibly dangerous combinations. He shook his head in wonder, wishing vainly that Ceravanne and the other Tharrin would have had more control over such decisions.

Late in the night, Gallen suddenly became aware of soft footsteps outside his door, and he realized that for several minutes he had heard stealthy sounds-the creaking of timbers at long, infrequent intervals.

For a moment, he watched his door. He’d thrown the bolt home before retiring, but he watched the door handle. His mantle let him see it dearly in the dark, and Gallen silently willed the mantle to let him view the scene in infrared.

He spotted two people standing on the other side of the door-their form revealed by the warmth of their body heat striking the planks.

For a long time they stood, then one of them gently pulled the wooden door handle, testing to see if the door was locked.

Gallen silently sat up, pulled his knife from his sheath, and began stalking toward the door, thinking to pull it open, surprise the men.

He slid his feet across the floor, careful to make no sound, and his mantle detected none. But suddenly the man at the door froze and distinctly hissed to his companion, “The Lord Protector!” They turned and fled above deck.

Gallen rushed to his door, threw it open, and raced above deck. The deck was cluttered with the lines and mast, dozens of nooks where someone might hide. There was a swift, cold breeze outside, and a dozen sailors were on deck, but Gallen couldn’t be certain which of them had been at his door. He looked at them in infrared, and their bodies seemed to shine while flames flickered across their skins as if they were demons from hell.

He addressed one giant who stood at the wheel above him, back turned. “Did you see anyone come up here just now?”

The giant looked over his shoulder. “No. But I heard a noise. Could have been someone.”

Gallen nodded. There was no one else close enough to have been keeping watch. He looked up, noticed that the sails were at quarter mast.

“Why are the sails lowered?”

The giant shrugged. “Cold wind from up north, I guess. Might bring a squall. Captain said to lower them. It’s his ship.”

Gallen pulled his tunic up tight around his throat. It was a cold wind. Very cold.

He looked to the deck to see if there were any prints. The blackguards’ body heat should have left its mark. But the men had run too quickly, and he could see no trail. At least the sensors in his mantle weren’t strong enough to pick it up.

He asked the mantle to give him an olfactory boost, but this was a feature of his mantle that Gallen had not used before, and the heavy odors that came to him meant nothing.

He grunted, went below deck, and bolted his door. Maggie had slept through the whole thing.

Gallen lay back rehearsing what had just happened, and he could not recall making a sound that would have alerted the intruders. He had his mantle play back the recorded sounds of the incident, and there was nothing that could have alerted the intruders.

Which meant there was but one alternative: they had to have seen him. His foes could see infrared. But far worse, Gallen realized, was that even though he had kept his mantle and weapons concealed, his foes knew that he was a Lord Protector.

The next morning, Gallen asked Orick to check the corridor, see if he could track the intruders by scent. But the cabin boy had already come through the hall that morning, swabbing the decks with lye.

So Gallen went to the captain’s quarters to speak with Aherly, and Orick followed. Gallen had hoped to meet the captain in private, but his bodyguard, Tallea, was there. The captain sat in a stuffed chair at his desk, writing in his log, and Tallea stood at his shoulder, her eyes alert, muscles bunched.

Still, Gallen felt he needed to speak now. “Two men tested the doors to my room last night, trying to break in,” he informed the captain.

Aherly looked at him askance, his balding head gleaming in the light from the portal. “That’s a substantial accusation. Was anything taken, anyone harmed?”

“No,” Gallen said. “But they did try my door.”

“Did you see them? Could you point them out to me again?”

“I didn’t see their faces, but they were of normal height.”

“Of normal height?” Aherly pursed his lips. “That’s not much of a description.”

“And I know that they can see in infrared,” Gallen added, hoping to narrow the field.

“It’s a common trait in Babel-or even in Northland, for that matter.” Aherly shrugged. “Half of my crew has it-all of the night watch. I insist on it, for safety’s sake. I would love to resolve this situation, but-is there anything more I could go on?”

“Nothing,” Gallen said. “Except-could it have been the Tekkar? Were they out last night?”

“I’m sure they were, but it would prove nothing. The Tekkar prefer darkness, and they sleep during the day.”

Gallen stood thinking, and Captain Aherly said, “Look, sir, I don’t know what I can do about this matter. But it does concern me. So, I have but one question for you: do you feel unsafe on my ship? Do you feel threatened in any way?”

Whoever had tried his door last night knew Gallen was a Lord Protector. And if he knew that, he would almost certainly know Ceravanne’s identity, and Maggie’s. Gallen could not ignore that threat, and it was so horrific that he wished he could hide it from his companions. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to get off this ship. “I do,” Gallen admitted. “I feel threatened clear down to my boots.”

The captain frowned. “Then there is only one thing to do. I deal with many kinds of people, some who feel threatened by things that are real, others who feel threatened by things that are imaginary.…”

“Och, here now,” Orick grumbled, “Gallen’s not one to go about imagining devils and banshees-”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply.…” the captain said, studying Gallen’s eyes, “I just mean that-it is … it is my policy to make all of my customers feel safe aboard my ship. Welcome and secure. Which is why I hire the Caldurian.

“Would you feel safer if I assigned Tallea to watch your rooms at night?”

Gallen studied the warrior. She had short dark hair with streaks of gray, and deep brown eyes that were very intense. She moved with a grace and power that he only someday hoped to match, and Ceravanne had said that the woman could not be Inhuman.

“Yes,” Gallen said. “I would feel safer.”

“Good,” Aherly smiled. “She will be outside your doors from dusk to dawn.” He began to fumble with a drawer of his desk, as if he would open it. “Uh, look,” he grumbled. “I assure you that I want to catch these intruders as much as you do. I try to run a clean ship. I pay my crew well, but it may be that one or two of my men-or even some of the other passengers-were intent on pilfering. If that’s the case, it’s bad for my reputation, you see?”

Gallen nodded, for he could ask no more of the man, but as he turned away, he muttered under his breath, “That’s not the case.”

He went back to his cabin, and called a meeting. When Ceravanne heard his tale, she was terrified.

“Are you sure that the intruder called you ‘Lord Protector’?” Maggie asked Gallen.

“Certain,” Gallen answered. “I was wearing my mantle. I’ve played back the recording a dozen times.”

“Then the Inhuman’s agents are on the ship, and they know who we are,” she said.

Maggie and the bear looked at the porthole, then at the door, as if the Inhumans would come piling in at any moment. “What can we do?”

Gallen had been sitting cross-legged, but he pulled his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees. “I see only one thing that we can do. I have to find the servants of the Inhuman, and eliminate the threat.”

Ceravanne said, “Perhaps you’re wrong in imagining that it is the Inhuman. Perhaps these intruders know only that you are a Lord Protector. We were gone from our room for a time last night. Perhaps someone entered the room and went through your pack, found your mantle and incendiary rifle.”

“Perhaps,” Gallen admitted. “But I think you are only hoping for the best. If they were thieves, why didn’t they just take my things, then?”

Ceravanne could come up with no answer.

“There are lifeboats aboard,” Maggie said. “We could sneak off the ship some night, try to make it to shore.”

“The night crew can all see in the dark,” Gallen countered. “To them, you glow like a firefly. You’ll not get off this ship unnoticed.”

“Then we’ll have to be patient, and courageous, and wait,” Ceravanne said.

“For what?” Orick demanded.

“For them to come to us,” Gallen said.

* * *