Twilight

CHAPTER 9

ROSEMARY WAS DOING HER DEAD LEVEL BEST TO keep from punching either the wall or her guard, and for the most part she was succeeding. But four days had ticked by—though the days here never got truly bright, there was a clear demarcation between night and day—and there was no sign of any movement.

She was naturally a headstrong woman, but she was also smart enough and experienced enough to know when to be calm and exercise patience and when to push.

She had been trying the former, but when the door opened and a protoss who was not her guard nor Selendis entered, she almost literally had to bite her tongue to keep from exploding at him.

"It is I, Vartanil," the protoss said, executing a deep bow. Rosemary still had difficulty distinguishing between individual protoss, but she was getting better at it. The fact that their mental "voices" were unique helped. Her impatience faded slightly as she realized she knew this protoss.

"You stood up for me when we came through the warp gate," she said, remembering. "You tried to convince the guards to open the gate back up so Jake could come through." He inclined his head, almost shyly. She smiled at him, the first genuine smile she'd had since setting foot on this obsessively blue planet. "Thanks."

"I only wish I had been more convincing."

"Well, you tried at least. And honestly, I suppose I can't blame them. To risk putting out a welcome mat for the zerg on a story they couldn't verify—I guess I understand."

She blinked as realization struck. "Hey.. .you're here. They let you out. What happened?"

"They assisted me in clearing the Sundrop from my system," Vartanil said. "Many sat with me, reached their minds to mine, and when I was able, comforted me via the Khala. You, Rosemary Dahl, had only Jacob and Zamara to aid you. You are strong indeed."

Rosemary was strong, and she knew it, and the knowing wasn't egotistical. She was always keenly aware of both her strengths and weaknesses; an honest understanding of both was simply smart. But somehow, Vartanil's praise made her feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well, maybe it didn't hit me as hard," she said. "I'm glad you're all right though. Did they believe you? About Jake and Zamara?"

He nodded. "Once I was purified of the drug, I spoke with Executor Selendis herself." His mental voice held tones of awe. "She also spoke with the others. We all verified your story. She believes us."

Rosemary's patience, stretched to the breaking point, now snapped. "Then where the hell is she? Why am I still in this damned prison?"

"It is not a prison."

"Where I come from, any place that you can't leave when you feel like it is a prison," Rosemary shot back.

"Selendis is the executor. She has a great deal of responsibility. When we linked in the Khala, I sensed part of her concern—over Jacob, over Ulrezaj, over the protoss left behind. There is much she needs to weigh, to consider, before she can make a wise decision."

Rosemary turned to him. She got the sensation that he was younger than many of the other protoss she had met, though she couldn't quite say why.

"Vartanil... Jake's sick. Really sick. Having Zamara inside him is killing him. And if he dies, she and all that information you protoss say is so valuable dies right along with him. This should be a top priority with your people."

Vartanil fidgeted, confirming Rosemary's theory that he was a younger individual. She'd never seen any of the other protoss fidget. They seemed totally disinclined to waste a single movement.

"When I was released," said Vartanil, "they said I was free to go. I came here. To you. I wanted to let you know as soon as possible what had happened. And.. .1 wish to pledge my service to you."

"Huh? To me?" She stared at him, baffled.

He nodded eagerly. "To you—and Jacob, and Zamara. Alzadar believed in you. I fear he is dead for that belief."

Rosemary thought about the slaughterfest she'd escaped back on Aiur and shared Vartanil's fear. Anyone who didn't get through the gate was likely dead. She was pretty sure Jake made it through—the guards did say that someone was redirected—but the thought that it might be too late for him, that it might have been too late when she stepped foot on Shakuras, made her throat tighten.

"Alzadar chose to stay behind," she said, and cleared her throat. "He helped buy us time."

"And he died freely, a templar to the end. Rosemary Dahl—I am not a templar. I am of Furinax lineage, a member of the Khalai caste. Before the zerg came, I was a craftsman. I carved wooden objects. I was and am proud of my skills, but I deeply regret that I am not trained in warfare, to serve you better now. But what I can do, I will."

Yep, he was young all right, with that dreadful earnestness that only the young possessed. Still, it was oddly touching. Rosemary had had her share of admirers, but they usually all wanted something from her. What they wanted varied—money, position, or something more intimate—but it was still the same story. But this protoss—his thoughts were perhaps the purest thing she'd ever known. She shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the adulation, and decided that since it probably really wasn't directed at her but at Jake and even more so Zamara, it was okay.

"Uh... thanks."

He beamed at her, and she smiled back. They stood in silence, and then Rosemary said, "So...you just going to hang around then?"

"Until we depart to find Jacob and Zamara, yes."

She couldn't censor her thoughts well enough and he cocked his head. "You do not wish my company?"

"It's not that, it's just—I'm ready to be going. To be doing something. Do you have any idea when Selendis will make her decision?"

"I already have," came the thought, before the door even opened to admit the executor. She looked every bit as poised and in control as she had before. Rosemary squared her shoulders and regarded theprotoss steadily.

"And it is?"

Selendis cocked her head and returned Rosemary's gaze. "The protoss who accompanied you have verified your story in the Khala. Even those who are not overly fond of you."

It was meant as a sort of rebuke, but it had the opposite effect. Rosemary grinned suddenly. She was used to being disliked, and somehow, it gave her hope.

"Well, that's good. So when do we leave?"

"I do not know if we will depart at all. We must convince Artanis and the others that this is a worthy mission, worth taking the risk."

Rosemary had thought that all she needed was to get this female on her side. But apparently, convincing Selendis was just the first step. Out of God knew how many.

"I regret if you got that impression," said Selendis, answering what hadn't even been asked yet. "The final decision on such a thing involves many more than I."

"Stop doing that!" Rosemary snapped. "Let me say my thoughts out loud, don't just barge in and read them!"

"I apologize," the executor said unexpectedly. "I am unused to not being able to freely peruse surface thoughts. I shall not intrude uninvited again, unless I feel the need warrants it."

"Uh...okay. Thanks." It was something, anyway. Rosemary composed herself. "I'm.. .glad you believe me." Beside her, Vartanil, who had no compunctions about his thoughts being read, was delighted.

"I have asked for an audience," Selendis continued. "I have hopes they will grant it." "Can I get out of here?"

"They would prefer that you remain here, as our guest, until such time as you are given an audience." "I'm a prisoner, not a guest."

"If you choose to view it as such, that is your prerogative."

And Rosemary had thought that Zamara was maddening. This implacable protoss, with her proud bearing, unblinking gaze, and graceful armor, seemed to her even more frustrating.

"Do you not get what is going on here? While you observe the protocols, Jake could be dying—could be dead! And Zamara and her precious secret right along with him. I don't get this. Do you simply not care? Is this what has happened to the protoss? Have you all devolved into a bunch of damned bureaucrats?"

"Rosemary!" Vartanil said, for her mind only. "She is the executor! You should not show such disrespect!"

"She and the others shouldn't show such disrespect to Zamara and Jake," Rosemary thought back.

For a long, tense moment, Selendis did not answer. She stayed silent, unmoving, her thoughts shielded from Rosemary. After a few moments, Rosemary shifted her weight. Was the executor ever going to say something?

"Four years ago, my world was beautiful, verdant, and safe. Tassadar was the executor of the templar, and I was his liaison with Artanis. We had order, harmony, a system that supported everyone and placed each where his or her talents, skills, and temperament best served the whole. The dark templar were little more to us than a part of our past, a cancer that we had vigorously cut out in order to protect everything it meant to be protoss. Our culture thrived. We were happy, and we were ignorant.

"Now my world is broken. What Aiur once was, what it stood for, is no more. Zerg wander its wounded surface. A darkness almost unimaginable has taken root in the sacred caverns that were created by the xel'naga. It has harmed my people, subjected them to the chains of addiction, and warped and twisted their minds. Where it failed to do so, it has slain them.

"I stand no longer in a verdant jungle world, with sun and moonlight on my skin, content in my naivete. I stand now with all I know in turmoil and in question, on a world of blue sand and eternal twilight, united with the dark templar I once believed with every fiber of my being to be evil and corrupt. It is because of their mercy that I and my fellow protoss are even alive. And yet they threaten a heritage that I once vowed to preserve. You have heard our battle cry, Rosemary Dahl: My life for Aiur. I was not permitted to give my life for Aiur. I came with Artanis, and I stand by him still, and I protect what it means to be protoss. But I am not sure what that looks like anymore. Too much rested on my decision for me to decide lightly. I have chosen to champion you, a terran female, to those who are now the leaders of my people. The choice of what to do next rests in their hands. I cannot do more for you at this juncture."

Rosemary blinked. Anger flickered and died—a reaction born of a thousand moments before this, when she had been thwarted in one way or another from getting what she wanted. Selendis's words... shamed her. She had no right to be angry at the executor. Selendis was on her side. It was foolish—hell, it was wrong, Jake would be the first to say that—to lash out at someone who was trying to help.

"I'm sorry," Rosemary said. "I'm worried for my friend."

Selendis inclined her head. "I will continue to push for an audience soon. I am Artanis's protegee; I believe he will listen to me. Do not lose heart, Rosemary."

Selendis nodded to Vartanil, who bowed deeply, then turned and left. Rosemary gazed after her.

Do not lose heart.

An odd thing to say to someone who had frequently been accused of not having one.

Hang on, Jake. We 're doing the best we can here.

Jake was still reeling the following morning. They'd made camp in a meadow next to a copse of trees by a small stream. Zamara was uncharacteristically silent when he asked her what they should do next, so he'd headed off on his own to forage. He'd found a tree that yielded a strange fruit that was at once utterly peculiar and quite satisfying. White, breadlike flesh was covered with small green scales that one could peel off. Jake sat in the pink-hued sunshine, scales the size of his thumbnail falling into his lap as he "shelled" the fruit, then took a bite of the creamy flesh.

We will return to Zeratul once you have eaten and cleansed yourself.

Jake almost choked. What? He made it quite clear that he didn't want the company of either of us.

Indeed. But nevertheless, we shall return until he orders us away again. And then return the next day, and the day after that, until such time as he will listen to what I say.

Jake took another bite of the creamy-bready-strange fruit. What if he snaps? He didn't strike me as someone who really had his act together.

He will not "snap," as you phrase it. He is quite sane, Jacob. He is Just lost in the maze of his own despair and guilt. Over what exactly, he would not permit me to see. But I glimpsed enough. Zeratul would never harm a preserver. We simply must continue to approach him. We have come this far. I have endured so very much to get here—and you, perhaps even more, for this was not your battle.

If this secret is as dire as you keep making it sound, then it is my battle. And—Jake hesitated. And even if it wasn't...I've come to respect and like your people. I'll do what I can to help.

Jake knew protoss could weep, after a fashion, anyway. He just...never thought Zamara did. But at the rush of commingled emotions that swept over him—gratitude, surprise, regret, guilt, apprehension—he realized that if Zamara had still been in her living body, she would be hunching over, her skin mottling with grief. If he could have hugged her, he would.

It is not self-pity, Jacob.

I know that.

But this information must be passed on. It must be preserved. And you must survive.

In that order, he thought wryly, but he agreed with it. He trusted Zamara, even though that information had yet to be shared with him.

It would have been so much easier had I not been killed. Well, yeah, I'd think so too.

Jake finished the fruit, his hunger sated, and turned his face up to the rosy sun. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the quiet moment of warmth on his face, then sighed and said, "All right. Let's go try and talk to that dark templar."