Dragon and Judge

CHAPTER 14

The doctor—a Compfrin, Alison noted with interest, not a Brummga—was quick, efficient, and quiet. Fifteen minutes after arriving, Alison was on her way out again. A tall, wiry Wistawk wearing green and purple and a red cross-chest sash led the way, with Dumbarton and Mrishpaw plodding along beside her.

The room Neverlin had assigned her to was in the first basement level down, with an entrance off the main kitchen area. The slaves working in the kitchen seemed to not even notice them, but Alison caught enough sideways glances to know that everyone was indeed aware of the strangers passing through their midst.

After the luxury of the shipboard stateroom, her new room was a severe letdown. It was small and cramped, equipped with a bed, a rough wooden dresser, a chair and small table, an intercom that doubled as a clock, a single overhead light, and a small sink. "No shower?" she asked, looking around.

"The bathroom is at the end of the hall," the Wistawk said. "It is shared by all the slaves on this floor."

Alison looked at Dumbarton. "Slaves?" she demanded.

Dumbarton shrugged. "Had a problem a while back," he said. "The Patri Chookoock ordered that all visitors stay down here where it's more secure."

Jack, again. How many times, Alison wondered sourly, was she going to trip over him while she was here? "That mean all the rest of you are down here, too?"

Dumbarton gave her an indulgent smile. "We're not visitors, kiddo. We're allies."

"But you will not have to eat with the other slaves," the Wistawk offered helpfully. "Your meal will be served here in two hours."

"And I'm sure it'll be delicious," Dumbarton said as he and Mrishpaw left the room. "Enjoy."

The Wistawk left as well, closing the door behind him. Taneem stirred against Alison's skin, but Alison laid a warning hand on her shoulder. Once again, it was time to check for microphones.

To her mild surprise, there weren't any. Perhaps no one thought the slaves were worth the bother of monitoring.

Unfortunately, they were probably right. A lifetime of slavery usually left the victims in grave-sized mental and emotional ruts, with all the spark and fire and hope brutally crushed out of them.

The Chookoock family was especially good at that. Two months ago, when Jack had gone to the slaves and offered them freedom, only twenty-six had taken him up on it.

"Okay, it's safe," Alison told Taneem when she was finished. Sitting down on the bed, she held out her arm.

The K'da missed the cue, coming out instead from the back of Alison's collar. "I was so afraid in the hospital," she said, landing on the floor and turning her head back and forth as she looked around. "I thought they would discover me for certain. I thought we would have to fight."

"Not this time," Alison soothed her.

A shiver shook Taneem's body. "I wish we were not here."

"Pretty much everyone in a slave colony feels that way," Alison said, opening her makeup kit. "Let's see what kind of reception we can get down here."

She got out her mascara tube and unscrewed the end. A quick adjustment with her fingernail to shift its frequency and it was ready. "What are you doing?" Taneem asked.

"Usually this earphone works with the rest of the tube for listening to the inner workings of safes," Alison explained, inserting the end into her ear. "I've changed its frequency to pick up the bug I planted in the papers from Virgil Morgan's lockbox. Quiet now—let me listen."

But it was quickly clear that there was nothing to listen to. She could hear faint sounds, but they were distant and muffled. "Hasn't even opened the bag yet, I guess," Alison said, pulling the earpiece back out. "Probably busy debriefing Frost about the trip in."

"I wonder how much truth Frost will tell him."

"Not nearly as much truth as there actually is," Alison said, hiding a smile. Alison's grasp of English was remarkably good, especially given how little time she'd had to work on it. But some of her phrases and sentence constructions were still rather entertaining. "For starters, you can bet money that he won't say word one about me opening those safes."

"It's so very strange," Taneem murmured, her tail tip curving in an arch. "They are friends, like you and Jack. Yet they keep secrets from each other."

Alison felt a twinge of conscience. "That's because Frost and Neverlin aren't really friends," she said. "They're working together, but only because neither can get what he wants alone. But I doubt either trusts the other any farther than he can throw him."

"What do you mean?" Taneem asked, her tail curving into an even tighter arch. "They throw each other?"

"No, that's just a figure of speech," Alison said. "A sort of word picture. The point is that they don't trust each other, not like Jack and Draycos do."

"Or like you and Jack?"

"And that probably goes double for the Patri Chookoock or whoever's calling the shots for the Brummgas," Alison said, passing over the K'da's question. "Probably why we're here, in fact. After Draycos ran roughshod over the Patri's people, I'm guessing he insisted the safes be put under his control to make sure Neverlin and Frost didn't just throw him to the wolves. That's another word picture," she added.

"I understand," Taneem said, her glowing silver eyes steady on Alison's face. "You do not answer my question."

Alison sighed to herself. Taneem was definitely the persistent type. "What question?"

"The question about trust," Taneem said. "You do trust Jack, don't you?"

Alison thought about it. With the question going only that direction, she could actually give an honest answer. "Yes, I think I can trust him," she said. "Well, mostly trust him, anyway. We don't know each other well enough yet to really trust each other."

"And he trusts you, as well?"

"You'd have to ask him about that," Alison said evasively. Actually, she was pretty sure Jack didn't trust her. Not that she could blame him. "My point is that a group like Neverlin, Frost, and the Chookoocks is inherently unstable," she went on. "That means a fairly small push can make it fall apart."

"Because they don't trust each other?"

"And because they're in it purely for the profit," Alison explained. "The minute any of them sees an advantage to himself in betraying the others, he'll do it. Part of our job here is to play along and watch for a chance to give it that push."

Taneem seemed to ponder that. "Is that why you agreed to open the vault and safe aboard the ship?"

"Partially," Alison said. "Besides proving to Frost that I could do it."

Taneem seemed to straighten up. "I cannot help very much with your work," she said. Her voice was trembling a little, but there was a firmness of will beneath it. "But if the time for battle should come, I will be there for you. You may trust me, just as you would trust Jack and Draycos."

Something stirred deep within Alison. It had been a long time since she'd had someone close at hand who she could genuinely trust. So very long a time. "I know," she managed. "Thank you." She took a deep breath. "But first things first. Dinner, sleep, and then I need to prove to Neverlin that I can open his safes."

"Yes," Taneem said, her voice thoughtful. "I wonder why the K'da safes are so difficult."

"No idea," Alison said soberly. "I wish I'd asked Draycos about it when I'd had the chance. It never even occurred to me."

"You will figure it out," Taneem assured her. "I have faith in you."

"Thanks," Alison said. "In the meantime, I'm going to go see if this bathroom has a tub and some hot water. Will you be okay here alone for a few minutes?"

"There is room to hide beneath the bed if necessary," Taneem said. "Go and enjoy."

The bathroom had a tub, plenty of hot water, and—best of all—a little privacy. Alison enjoyed the bath as long as she dared, then dried and dressed. She returned to her room, to find that in her absence her dinner had been delivered.

And that the waiter was still there.

"You are the human Alison Kayna?" he asked politely. He was a Wistawk, tall and spindly and rather young.

"I am," Alison said, glancing around. There was no sign of Taneem. She must have made it under the bed in time. "Thank you for the dinner."

She sat down at the table and picked up the fork. The tray was military style, molded metal with five compartments for food. All five were filled with the proper nutritional range of meat, vegetables, bread, fruit, and even what appeared to be a sort of pudding.

The room itself might be insultingly simple, but at least Neverlin wasn't going to make her eat slaves' food, too.

She looked up, to find the Wistawk still standing there. "Was there something else?" she asked.

He hesitated. "My name is Shoofteelee," he said. "May I ask a question?"

"I suppose," Alison said cautiously.

Shoofteelee seemed to brace himself. "Are you a friend of Jack Morgan, who came to us as Jack McCoy?"

Alison stared at him. Was this some kind of trap? "What makes you think that?" she countered.

"Because they dislike and distrust you, as they did him,'' Shoofteelee said, the words coming out in a rush now that he'd committed himself to this line of conversation. "Yet they treat you specially, as they did him. You have the same air of nobility about you as he had." He looked furtively around the room and lowered his voice to a whisper. "As also did the dragon."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alison saw something gray twitch under the bed. "I'd be careful about trying to see nobility in people's faces," she warned. "It usually doesn't work."

"Then—?" He broke off, frowning. "What then are you saying?"

Alison hesitated. Still, if it was a trap, she was already in it. "I'm saying don't assume I'm a noble person," she said. "But as it happens, I do know Jack Morgan. And the dragon."

Shoofteelee's mouth curled open in a relieved smile. "I knew it," he breathed.

"The question is, what do you know about them?" Alison asked.

"I was here when—"

"And you might as well sit down," Alison said, waving him toward the bed.

"Thank you," Shoofteelee said, a little uncertainly. Stepping to the bed, he folded his lanky body onto it. "Thank you."

"You were telling me how you know Jack," Alison prompted.

"I was here when Jack Morgan came and offered us freedom," Shoofteelee said. "He and the black dragon defeated many of the Brummgas and led nearly thirty slaves to freedom, including six from the household itself."

"The bla—?" Alison caught herself just in time. Of course the story would be about a black dragon. K'da in combat mode turned black, no matter what their usual color. "But you weren't invited?"

Shoofteelee's eyes closed, waves of subtle color rippling across his skin reflecting his deep emotional pain. "I was afraid," he said softly. "And I did not believe."

"Not really your fault," Alison said, feeling an obscure desire to soothe the other's ache. "If I hadn't seen some of the things the dragon can do, I wouldn't have believed him either."

"You seek to quiet my shame," Shoofteelee said. "But the shame is far distant to the agony of having been left behind."

"I understand," Alison said gently. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry," the Wistawk said, the emotion clearing abruptly from his face. "For with you I have now a second chance. And this time I will not let it pass by."

"Whoa," Alison said, holding out her hands palm outward toward him. "Slow down a minute. I'm sorry, but that's not why I'm here."

Shoofteelee's face fell. "But we have waited for this chance. For Jack and the dragon." He lowered his eyes. "And we have hoped. We have hoped so much."

"I'm sorry," Alison said again. Under the edge of the bed she could see Taneem shifting restlessly, and it didn't take a genius to tell she was starting to feel all noble and guilty.

Shoofteelee took a deep breath and stood up. "But I keep you from your meal," he said, heading for the door. "My apologies."

"That's all right," Alison assured him, standing up as well. "Did the humans say anything else of interest?"

Shoofteelee eyed her a moment, perhaps wondering if she was even worth talking to anymore. "The older one—Mr. Arthur—told the other that he had heard that a Judge-Paladin had arrived at a place called Semaline. He seemed concerned about it."

"What did the other one say?" Alison asked.

Shoofteelee shrugged. "He seemed unconcerned," he said. "Perhaps even amused."

Alison nodded. Which implied whatever was going on with Semaline wasn't connected to their plot against the K'da and Shontine. Something from Neverlin's personal past, then?

She hoped so. At this stage, anything that distracted Neverlin worked to her advantage.

On the other hand, Semaline was where Jack and Draycos had disappeared. Having Neverlin's attention dragged that direction might not be such a good thing after all. "Thank you," she said. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know anything else you hear from them."

An ember of hope seemed to touch Shoofteelee's eyes. "I will do so, Alison Kayna, friend of Jack Morgan and the dragon," he said. "Farewell."

"Go in peace and merriment," Alison said.

The other frowned. "What?"

"I said go in peace and merriment," Alison said, suddenly feeling foolish. "It's a traditional Wistawk farewell."

There was another flicker of emotional coloring, a softer one this time. "I would not know of such things," he said. Turning again, he left the room.

With a sigh, Alison sat down again. "You hungry?" she asked Taneem.

One eye emerged from beneath the bed. "Not right now," she said, and then disappeared again.

Gone off for a private sulk, apparently. Shaking her head in mild disgust, Alison sliced off a corner of the meat with the edge of her fork. Sulking, because Alison wasn't ready to jump on a white horse and charge through an army of Brummgas she couldn't stop, toward a gate she couldn't open, for a bunch of slaves who probably wouldn't follow her anyway.

Fine. Let her sulk. Sooner or later, like it or not, she'd have no choice but admit there wasn't a thing the two of them could do for these people.

Until then, Alison would just enjoy the silence.

Carefully dividing the food in each of the tray's sections in half for when the K'da did decide she was hungry, Alison settled down to her meal.