Conquerors' Heritage

23

It was a long, lonely drive down the dusty roadway that led north toward his mother's house. Thrr-gilag saw only a few buildings along the way, farmhouses and related outbuildings, most of them fairly distant from the roadway. The only other vehicles he passed were lumbering planters out working the fields. Little to see, little to do except for the largely automatic process of driving down a deserted roadway.

It left him a lot of time for thought. They weren't pleasant thoughts. He tried to concentrate on the attempt to save the possibly alive Prr't-zevisti from probable death, and to speculate on how such a success might be bartered into reinstatement of his bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a. But there were too many ifs in the whole equation; too many ifs and possibles and maybes and doubtfuls. And even if it all worked out perfectly, there would always be the weight of his mother's crime working against it.

His mother. Thrr-gilag sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt. With all the rest of the flurry that had accompanied it, the truly basic consideration hadn't even occurred to him until midway through the flight from Unity City. Thrr-pifix-a had tried to steal her fsss because she didn't want to become an Elder.

She'd failed. Which meant that choice had now been taken away from her. And Thrr-gilag still couldn't decide whether he was relieved or saddened by that.

There were a half-dozen Elders hovering around his mother's house as he pulled up in front of it. "Hello," one of them said as he stepped out of the runabout. "Who are you?"

Thrr-gilag eyed him. "Why?"

The other seemed taken aback. "I was just wondering. I'd heard something happened here last latearc, something involving Overclan warriors and some kind of criminal activity. Just wondered if you knew anything about it."

Thrr-gilag grimaced. So the rumors had already started. Inevitable, really. With so little to occupy their time, Elders were to rumors as liquid fuel was to fires. "Sorry," he said shortly, striding past the Elder toward the door.

"Wait a beat," a second Elder said, moving into Thrr-gilag's path. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going inside," Thrr-gilag said. "Is that any business of yours?"

"Do you have permission from the occupant to enter?"

"I have the key," Thrr-gilag said, holding it up.

"But do you have permission?" the Elder repeated.

Thrr-gilag stopped. "I have all the permission I need," he ground out. "I'll ask again: what business is this of yours?"

"This is our land," a third Elder said, his voice and manner huffy. "It's both our privilege and our duty to protect it."

And suddenly Thrr-gilag was sick and tired of Elders. "That's dead bisfis effluvia," he said flatly. "And you know it. You never paid the slightest bit of attention to Thrr-pifix-a until you smelled a chance at some gossip. That's all you want, and you can forget it."

"How dare you speak that way to your Elders?" the third Elder demanded. "We are—"

"What you are is invited to get lost," Thrr-gilag cut him off. Pushing past and through the whole group of them, he unlocked the door and went in.

He half expected the Elders to join him, at least long enough to drop a few scathing comments about his manners and the importance of respect. But if they had in fact followed him in, they were keeping quiet about it.

More likely they'd simply returned to their family shrines, to tell in great detail about the rude young male who had shown up at the mystery-shrouded home of Thrr-pifix-a; Kee'rr.

His mother hadn't lived there for very long, but even so the house was rich with memories. For a few hunbeats Thrr-gilag just wandered through the various rooms, looking at the furniture and pictures he remembered from his childhood, fingering the various pieces of edgework she'd loved to do and been so proud of. Here and there was a pouch or scarflin she'd been working on, as yet unfinished. Beside the kitchen sink were her gardening tools, painstakingly cleaned from the previous fullarc's work and laid neatly out to dry. The trowel still held a drop of water in its curved surface; picking it up, he turned it over, watching the drop dribble off.

From the edge of his eye he caught a flicker of movement. So not all the Elders had gone away. Thrr-gilag spun toward the figure, drawing a breath to tell these nosy gossips once and for all what he thought of them—

"Hello, my son," Thrr't-rokik said, his voice grave. "I'm glad you've come."

Thrr-gilag's breath went out of him in a startled gasp. "Father," he murmured when he finally got his voice back.

Thrr't-rokik's serious expression cracked, just a little. "I take it you weren't expecting me," he suggested with a wry smile. "At least not if you were about to say what you looked like you were about to say."

"No, not at all," Thrr-gilag hastened to assure him, waving an arm in the general direction of the front door. "I was expecting it to be one of the local—"

He froze, his arm still raised toward the door, the words dying on his tongue as the second shock suddenly hit him. This wasn't the Thrr family shrine. He was here, just south of Reeds Village, 115 thoustrides away.

Fifteen thoustrides outside his father's anchorline range.

"No, it's not a hallucination," Thrr't-rokik said quietly. "I'm really here."

"But how?" Thrr-gilag asked, tongue flicking in confusion.

"Highly illegally, I'm afraid," Thrr't-rokik confessed. "Of course, we'd never intended that anyone would ever find out about it." He shrugged uncomfortably. "Under normal circumstances I'm sure no one ever would have. But the circumstances are hardly normal anymore."

"Wait a beat," Thrr-gilag said. "Wait just a beat, all right? How can you be here? What did you do, have a cutting taken or something?"

"No 'or something' about it," Thrr't-rokik said. "I talked a friend into taking a cutting for me. So that I could keep an eye on your mother."

Thrr-gilag nodded slowly. Of course. Obvious, now that he thought about it. It was exactly the sort of thing his father would do. "Without her knowing about it, I suppose."

Thrr't-rokik turned away. "I couldn't tell her, Thrr-gilag. She didn't want any part of me. Never wanted to see me again. But I couldn't accept that. Couldn't just let go."

Thrr-gilag sighed. It certainly wasn't proper, spying on her that way. But on the other side, he could hardly blame his father for doing so. "You took a big chance," he told Thrr't-rokik. "I trust you realize that. If she'd ever gotten around to checking with the local cutting pyramids, you'd have been caught for sure."

"Oh, I took a chance, all right," Thrr't-rokik said grimly, "But not the one you imagine. You see, my cutting isn't in any of the local pyramids. Or in the local shrines, or anywhere else it's supposed to be. It's... well, it's been rather informally placed, let's say."

Thrr-gilag frowned; and then it hit him, like a tongue edge in the neck. "You mean you just tossed it into a—a box or something?"

"Exactly correct, I'm afraid," Thrr't-rokik admitted. "It's in a sealed container buried out back beneath the Kyranda bushes." He eyed Thrr-gilag, his face pinched in anxious anticipation. "You're shocked, of course. I can't say I blame you."

Thrr-gilag sighed, acutely aware of the irony of it all. He and Thrr-mezaz were conspiring to put their illegal cutting of Prr't-zevisti's fsss in a predator-proof box on Dorcas; and here their father had already done the same thing. It must run in the family. "Actually, I'm not nearly as shocked as you probably think," he told Thrr't-rokik. "Who did you talk into doing this for you?"

"I suppose there's no real harm in telling you," Thrr't-rokik said. "After what's happened, it's all bound to come out soon anyway. They'll undoubtedly do a complete check of all the fsss organs at the family shrine to see if any of them were tampered with."

Thrr-gilag nodded. Once again, it was obvious. "It was Thrr-tulkoj, wasn't it?" he asked. "Only a shrine protector would have that kind of access."

"Yes." Thrr't-rokik nodded heavily. "And he's going to be in serious trouble when it's discovered. But for now there's nothing we can do about that." He looked at Thrr-gilag, a sudden fire in his eyes. "What we can do something about—maybe—is the trouble your mother's in. You see, I didn't attend that big Elder meeting last latearc. I was here."

Thrr-gilag's tail twitched. "You were here?" he echoed. "I mean, right here at this house?"

"Right here," Thrr't-rokik agreed soberly. "And I saw everything. There were two of them, two young males, dressed in the sort of outfits you sometimes see in warrior entertainment dramas. They came up to the door and laid the pouch on the ground, then knocked twice and ran."

"Why didn't you alert the rest of the Elders?"

"I wish I had," Thrr't-rokik sighed. "But I didn't recognize the significance of what I'd seen. Not until the warriors came up out of cover and charged toward the house—"

"Wait a beat." Thrr-gilag frowned. "The warriors came out of cover? Where out of cover?"

"Oh, pretty much everywhere," Thrr't-rokik said, waving vaguely around him. "From the various farmers' outbuildings, out of ditches, behind scrub-plant clusters—all around the area. I didn't even notice them until they started moving."

Thrr-gilag pressed the tip of his tongue hard against the top of his mouth. "But then that means it wasn't just some sudden news or anonymous warning that got them here in time to stop mother from destroying her fsss," he said slowly. "They were waiting for it to show up. And yet you say they deliberately let those two males leave?"

"I don't know how deliberate it was," Thrr't-rokik said. "They could simply have been caught off guard. As I said, it happened very quickly."

"Maybe," Thrr-gilag growled. "But a few properly positioned Elders ought to have been able to give the warriors enough warning to catch them." He glared at his father. "Assuming, of course, that they wanted to catch them."

"Be very careful, my son," Thrr't-rokik warned. "What you're hinting at could get you into serious trouble."

Thrr-gilag flicked a tongue contemptuously. "I'm already in serious trouble. Or I will be soon, anyway."

"That's no reason to make things worse by announcing unproved accusations," Thrr't-rokik countered. "It doesn't help you or your mother."

With an effort Thrr-gilag forced down his growing anger. "Then we'll get some proof," he said. "You say you saw these two Zhirrzh. Would you recognize them if you saw them again?"

"I'm sure I would," Thrr't-rokik said.

"All right, then," Thrr-gilag said, fingering his mother's gardening trowel. "What we'll do is put their description out into the Elder network and see if we can track them down."

"Risky," his father said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "They certainly aren't going to want to be found; and if they catch even a hint that someone saw them, they're likely to bury themselves where we'll never find them."

Thrr-gilag grimaced. "I know. But it's all we've got."

"Actually, maybe not," Thrr't-rokik said. "I told you they left on foot. What I haven't yet told you is they didn't travel that way for long. They had a small transport waiting about a hundred strides to the west."

"Probably how they got here from the shrine," Thrr-gilag said, hearing an edge of bitterness in his voice. "A whole transport. I wonder how the Overclan warriors missed that"

"It's not impossible, Thrr-gilag," Thrr't-rokik cautioned. "Please don't stumble to false conclusions here. The vehicle had no lights or markings and looked to be darklight-shielded as well."

"Which all by itself proves someone important was involved," Thrr-gilag countered. "Transport modifications like that don't come cheap. They're only used when someone has something to hide."

"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik said. "But they may have missed a bet. My cutting's a bit subsized, and I didn't have much time to look over the transport before they flew out of range. But I did get a chance to look at the floater engines, which turned out to be quite warm. Best guess is that they floated in at ground level for the last thoustride or so."

"Which you're probably going to say is why the Overclan warriors didn't spot them," Thrr-gilag sighed. "They're sure not making this easy to prove, are they?"

"I'm sure that's their goal," Thrr't-rokik agreed. "Whoever 'they' are, and whatever 'they' were doing. But you miss my point. As I said, the floater engines were warm. Warm enough to give off a fair amount of darklight." He smiled grimly. "Enough darklight, as it happens, for me to read the manufactural identification numbers."

Thrr-gilag felt his midlight pupils narrow. "You got the numbers?" he breathed. "Well, then—well, then, we're in. We've got them. We've got them by their tongues."

"Easy, son, easy," Thrr't-rokik said, holding up a hand. "It's not going to be that easy. We can't just announce the numbers and call for a public explanation. As you said, someone important is likely involved in this, and political power almost always comes with importance. We can't risk a countermove that crushes our entire family beneath it."

"So what do we do?" Thrr-gilag demanded. "Keep quiet and let them get away with it?"

"Of course not," Thrr't-rokik said. "All I'm saying is that the obvious, public way isn't going to work here. For right now Thrr-pifix-a is all right: she's shamed, but for whatever reasons, whoever's behind all this doesn't seem to want it made public. That means we have time. So what I'll do is—"

He broke off. Across the house there was a quiet knock at the door.

For a beat Thrr-gilag just looked at Thrr't-rokik, wondering if he'd imagined the sound. The knock came again; and Thrr't-rokik flickered and was gone.

He was back two beats later. "I don't know," he hissed to Thrr-gilag. "One Zhirrzh, male, middle-aged. He looks very familiar, somehow, but I can't place him."

There was a third knock, a more insistent one this time. "Keep watch," Thrr-gilag told his father, crossing the kitchen to the door. Bracing himself, trying to prepare himself mentally for anything, he pulled it open.

"Hello, Searcher," the Overclan Prime said. "I'm glad you were able to find your way out here. May I come in?"

Thrr-gilag swallowed. This was not anywhere on his impromptu mental list of possibilities. "Certainly, Overclan Prime," he said, moving back out of the way.

"Thank you." The Prime stepped inside; and as he passed, Thrr-gilag noticed the irritating pulsating tone that followed along with him. A hummer, already activated. Whatever was about to happen, the Prime was obviously determined that it be confidential.

But even if Thrr't-rokik couldn't hear, he would certainly be watching. It was a comforting thought.

"I'm sorry I had to twist you around the way I did in order to get you here," the Prime said, turning back around to face Thrr-gilag as the latter closed the door. "But I needed to talk to you in private."

"Is it about my mother?" Thrr-gilag asked.

"It concerns the war," the Prime said. "And your theory that there may be a biochemical basis for Human-Conqueror aggression."

Thrr-gilag suppressed a grimace. All the way out here; and for this? "That theory is hardly a deep secret, Overclan Prime," he pointed out impatiently. "I've already filed a note about it. We could have discussed this back at the Overclan complex."

"Perhaps," the Prime said calmly. "But we could hardly have discussed the unauthorized cutting you and Klnn-dawan-a took of Prr't-zevisti's fsss organ. Could we."

Thrr-gilag stared at him, his mind freezing in shock. So they knew. They'd known all along. Klnn-dawan-a was probably at this very beat being hauled into a detention cell on Shamanv, her family shamed as his now was.... "No," he heard his voice say through a suddenly stiff mouth. "I suppose we couldn't have."

The Prime smiled faintly. "Relax, Searcher, it's not as bad as you're obviously thinking. Though you may change your mind about that in a hunbeat or two. For right now, at least, no one outside your little conspiracy knows anything about this."

With an effort Thrr-gilag forced his mind to start working again. The Prime could be lying, of course. But Thrr-gilag couldn't see what that would gain him. Either way, at this point he had little choice but to play this out and see where it led. "May I ask how you found out?" he asked.

"Through one of the Elders in Prr't-casst-a's supposedly secure pathway, of course," the Prime said. "As it happens, I already had an order in place that all of your communications were to be routed through an Overclan Elder. Prr't-casst-a's selection of Elders made it difficult, but not impossible. But that's not really the point. The point is that you probably want to go to Dorcas with Searcher Klnn-dawan-a. Fine; because I want you to go there, too."

Thrr-gilag frowned. Was he serious? "I don't understand."

"It's very simple," the Prime said. "The Dorcas beachhead has just taken three prisoners. Or possibly ambassadors; we're not really sure. One of them is a Human-Conqueror warrior." He gazed hard at Thrr-gilag. "The other two are Mrachanis."

Thrr-gilag felt his midlight pupils narrow. Mrachanis. "I should tell you, Overclan Prime, that I don't really trust the Mrachanis."

"Yes, I know," the Prime said. "Which is precisely why I want you to be the one to go talk to them. Especially since there's a Human-Conqueror prisoner there for you to do your biochemical tests on."

"I see," Thrr-gilag said, eying the Prime closely. "Do I take it that all of this is... somewhat unauthorized?"

The Prime locked gazes with him. "I'm authorizing it, Searcher. That's all the authorization you need."

"Yes, I understand that. What I meant—"

"I know what you meant," the Prime cut him off. "And I have neither the time nor the inclination to detail for you the full range of political realities involved. Your qualifications are simple: you're good at what you do, and you're not overly intimidated by authority or tradition when you see something that has to be done. The question is equally simple: will you go, or won't you?"

"Of course I'll go," Thrr-gilag said. "When?"

"Immediately," the Prime said, a flicker of something that might have been relief touching his face. "There's a spacecraft waiting for you at the private field the transport dropped you off at. You can leave the runabout there to be picked up later."

"All right," Thrr-gilag said. "I don't have any luggage or equipment, though."

"There are changes of clothing for you already aboard the spacecraft," the Prime said. "You'll be making a stop at Base World Nine along the way; chances are most of the equipment you'll need can be picked up there. Have the spacecraft commander send me a list of whatever you want, and it'll be assigned to you. Anything Base World Nine doesn't have on hand will be sent to Dorcas from here. Acceptable?"

"Very much so," Thrr-gilag said, nodding. "Thank you."

"You'd best be on your way, then," the Prime said. "One other thing before you go. Commander Thrr-mezaz has reported the fact that the Human-Conquerors on Dorcas have made possibly two separate attempts to enter the region north of the Zhirrzh beachhead."

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said, shivering. "He told me."

"The commander was of course at a loss to explain their motivations." The Prime's expression hardened. "You and I, however, don't have to wonder."

"No," Thrr-gilag murmured. No, they didn't have to wonder at all. "CIRCE."

"Yes," the Prime agreed soberly. "And if one of its components is in fact hidden out there, there's no chance the Human-Conquerors will let it just sit there. If it becomes necessary, you're authorized to tell your brother everything you know about the device. And to do whatever it takes to make sure the Human-Conquerors don't retrieve it. Understood?"

Thrr-gilag nodded. "Understood."

"Good," the Prime said. "Then you'd better get going. Not a word or hint of any of this, of course. To anyone."

"Not to anyone," Thrr-gilag confirmed, moving toward the door.

"And," the Prime added softly, "good luck to you."

He managed a few words to his father before the runabout moved beyond Thrr't-rokik's range. Nothing beyond the fact that he was leaving Oaccanv, and that there was nothing to worry about.

Not that Thrr-gilag was entirely convinced of that himself. This whole thing could easily be a trap, for one thing. A trap to catch him and Klnn-dawan-a with the stolen fsss cutting, perhaps, with the purpose of bringing disastrous shame onto both of their families and clans. For arcane political reasons he could only guess at.

Or the target could be Thrr-mezaz. This could be a plot to catch him in collusion with dubious and technically unauthorized civilian experiments on an enemy prisoner, providing a quick and easy reason to relieve him of his command.

Or it could be something even simpler. A scheme to get Thrr-gilag out of the way while the two Zhirrzh who had framed Thrr-pifix-a quietly buried themselves away beyond all possibility of finding or identifying them.

But it could also be completely legitimate. And if it was—and if there was even a chance that going to Dorcas might help the Zhirrzh win this war—then it was a risk that Thrr-gilag had to be willing to take.