Dragon and Judge

CHAPTER 19

The hallway was deserted, as was the stairway leading up toward the foyer. Somewhere along the way the faint voice sputtering in her ear fell silent. She continued on anyway, crossing toward the archway leading into the grand entry foyer.

And stopped short as two armed Brummgas stepped into her path. "Stand," one of them ordered quietly.

"I'm not one of the slaves," Alison told him, trying to sound like she actually belonged here. "I'm Alison Kayna, working with the Patri Chookoock and Colonel Frost and Mr. Arthur. I just want to go outside for a few minutes to get some fresh air."

"Slaves are not allowed outside the slave quarters," the first Brummga insisted.

"I'm not a slave," Alison repeated. "I came with Colonel Frost. You can check with him if you don't believe me."

The two guards exchanged stares, their typically molasses Brummgan minds apparently working overtime on this one. "Not here," the first said at last, pointing to Alison's left. "Through the kitchen—door that way."

The kitchen was large and well stocked, though not as impressive as some Alison had seen. Threading her way between work stations, she made her way to the door at the far end.

It opened easily enough from the inside, but a quick check showed the outside handle was locked. Digging under the left cuff of her shirt sleeve, she pulled out one of the strips of tape hidden there. She pulled off its backing and carefully flattened the tape over the door latch to hold it open.

A moment later she was outside in the crisp night air, the door closed behind her. "Can you call him?" Taneem murmured as Alison headed toward one of the formal garden areas she'd spotted on the drive in.

"No, this is only a receiver," Alison murmured back. "I was hoping he might repeat whatever it was he was saying. I guess

he's given up."

"But how would Jack know to come here to look for us?"

Taneem asked.

"No idea," Alison said, looking around. "Let's try getting a little closer to the wall. No more talking—there might be patrols around."

The estate was deathly quiet at this hour of the night. The only sounds Alison could hear as she walked were the rustling of the wind through the bushes and her own softly crunching footsteps. She passed through the near edge of the garden area, its vibrant colors muted beneath the dim starlight, and continued on across a stretch of aromatic grass. Ahead and to the right she could see what seemed to be some kind of sports area.

"Freeze," a voice said quietly from her left.

Alison stopped in midstep. "I'm not a slave," she said. "My name's Alison—"

"I know who you are, little girl," the voice said.

With a soft rustling, a muscular man with wide shoulders stepped out from concealment between a pair of sculpted bushes fifteen feet away. In the moonlight Alison could see his short, military-style hair and a hint of deep lines in his face.

She had no trouble at all seeing the snub-nosed laser rifle pointed at her stomach.

"Oh, yes, I know who you are," the man repeated. "My name's Gazen."

Alison tensed, Jack's stories about Gazen flooding over her like a wave of arctic water. Gazen was the Chookoock family's slavemaster, a vicious, brutal man who had made Jack's brief time here a living hell. "I've heard of you," she managed.

"From Jack Morgan?"

"Who? No, from some of the other slaves," Alison said, feeling a cold sweat break out on her forehead. Too late, she realized she should instead have denied all knowledge of the man. If he bothered to check with the slaves, he could expose her lie within half an hour. "But I see you came out here for some solitude," she went on, taking a careful sideways step back toward the house. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"I didn't come here for solitude," Gazen corrected mildly. "I came here to kill people."

Alison's mouth felt dry. "Anyone in particular?"

"Yes." Gazen lifted the laser to his shoulder. "You."

For an eternity Alison just stood there, her knees locked, her feet rooted to the ground, her mind sorting desperately through her options.

But there weren't any. She was in the middle of open ground, with no access to weapons or cover or escape. Gazen's weapon was already up and aimed, and he was too far away for her to try jumping him.

Her luck had finally run out. She was going to die.

Or was she?

She frowned. There was something odd about Gazen as he stood there. Something in his eyes or stance that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

And then, against her skin, she felt Taneem preparing to leap.

"No," she muttered urgently, putting a hand on her shoulder. The gap was too wide even for a K'da to cover. Gazen would shoot Taneem, then he would shoot Alison—

And then, abruptly, Alison's conscious mind caught up to what her subconscious had already noticed.

Gazen wasn't looking at her. He was still facing her, and his laser was still pointed at her chest. But his eyes were darting around, probing the starlit yard and the darker shadows of bushes and trees and flower beds around them.

He was waiting for something to happen. In fact, from the expression on his face, he was hoping for something to happen.

But nothing did. Alison stood as still as she could, holding her hand against Taneem's head and praying that the K'da would stay put.

And then, finally, Gazen lowered the muzzle of his weapon. "So he really isn't here," he muttered, looking around openly now.

"Who isn't here?" Alison asked.

Reluctantly, it seemed, Gazen dragged his attention back to her. "Jack Morgan, of course," he said, his voice going even darker. "He's coming back to free the rest of the slaves. Didn't you know?"

Alison felt her lip twitch. Jack had never mentioned that part of his plan. "He is?"

Gazen nodded toward the north end of the grounds. "That's what they say out there," he told her. "They say Morgan's coming back someday. Him and that—" His voice cracked, and even in the faint light Alison could see the sudden intensity in his eyes. "Crampatch and the Patri Chookoock don't believe it," he said, dragging his voice back under control. "But I know better. Morgan is coming back. And when he does—" He hefted the laser. "Some of us, at least, will be ready."

Alison swallowed. "I'm sure you will," she said. "Well, then. If you don't mind—"

"Go back to the house, little girl," Gazen said. Backing up a step, he settled himself again on a low bench between the two bushes, laying his laser across his knees. "Go back to sleep."

"Yes, sir," Alison said. Keeping an eye on him as long as she could, she made her escape.

Neither she nor Taneem spoke again until they were safely back in bed. "Draycos told me stories about this Gazen human," Taneem said softly.

"So did Jack," Alison said, shivering. In some ways, she knew, Gazen was no more evil or vicious than men like Frost and Neverlin. Neverlin, after all, had ordered the destruction of Draycos's advance team. Gazen, as far as she knew, hadn't even been present during that attack.

But Frost and Neverlin were also smart and calculating. They were in this for profit and power. Men like that Alison could understand, and could deal with.

Gazen, in contrast, was just plain crazy. She could see it in his eyes, and hear it in his voice. And she wasn't used to dealing with men like that. They scared her, right down to her core.

Distantly, she wished Draycos were here.

"Is there anything I can do?" Taneem asked anxiously, lifting her head a little from Alison's shoulder.

With a smile, Alison reached up to stroke her companion's smooth gray scales. No, Taneem was no poet-warrior of the K'da. But she was loyal, and she was willing, and she was doing the best she could. "No, that's all right," Alison assured her. "I'm fine."

She took a deep breath and tried to push Gazen from her mind. "Better get some sleep," she said, pulling the blankets a little tighter around her chin. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."