Twilight

CHAPTER 12

VARTANIL WAS SURPRISINGLY GOOD COMPANY. Rosemary hadn't been at all sure about him when he chose to stay with her. He was young and very eager, and usually that particular combination annoyed the hell out of her. She suspected she disliked it so intensely because it was usually the young and eager who were the first to die in any combat situation, and that kind of waste pissed her off. But Vartanil had the fact that he was a protoss going for him, and that mitigated his zeal somewhat.

Besides, stuck in her "quarters," there was really nothing else for her to do. So they talked.

Vartanil was scrupulous about reading her thoughts only when invited to do so. She'd felt him catch himself frequently at first, and she supposed that was to be expected. After all, it would be like her trying to have a conversation by writing when the tendency would be to speak. But he quickly got the hang of it, and recently hadn't mentally trespassed at all.

His life, as he'd indicated earlier, had been an uneventful and rather happy one until the coming of the zerg. Rosemary found herself smiling wistfully at his description of a family unit and a craftsman's trade. It had been a long, long time since she'd glimpsed that kind of peace. She supposed that was why she'd been so susceptible to the drugs—they gave her tranquility of a sort, even if it was a dearly-bought, short-lived lie.

When the conversation turned to her, she demurred. "Let's put it this way. Things were rough on me when I was younger, so as soon as I could, I made them rough on others."

He cocked his head, confused. Damn, she was starting to read their body language.

"You did not harm innocents though." He stated this so firmly she felt a twinge of guilt—another thing she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Sometimes I did. It was just—I did what I needed to to do the job." She shrugged her slender shoulders. It had always sounded logical. But now it sounded... well... wrong.

"I see." He didn't of course. And yet, he chose to stay with her. He chose to focus on the strength of will it had taken for her to kickthe Sundrop. He chose to focus on how she had helped Jake, rather than how she had been happily willing to turn him over for a handful of credits. Okay, more than a handful, never let it be said that Rosemary Dahl could be bought cheaply. But she sure as hell could be bought.

Jake was a lot like these guys. More than he realized. Rosemary didn't think she and Zamara would have gotten three steps if Zamara had entered her brain. The clash of natures would have made her head explode. That line of thinking, of course, made her remember that Jake was in reality going through something similar and not at all wryly humorous, and that soured her temper even more.

So it was that when Selendis entered, Rosemary snapped at her, "What the hell do you want? Come back to interrogate me some more?"

Selendis didn't bat an eye. "No," she said. "I have come to inform you that Hierarch Artanis is willing to grant you an audience."

Crap. Rosemary wondered how many times she'd stick her boot in her mouth with these people, and if she'd ever get used to the metaphoric taste.

"Oh. That's great. Uh, thank you for your efforts on my behalf." The words felt unnatural, but the feeling behind them was heartfelt. She was grateful.

Selendis inclined her head. It was then that Rosemary realized that the executor was clad more elaborately than the terran had ever seen her. Her armor, always meticulous, now seemed to gleam even brighter. Beneath the armor, she wore a flowing robe of dark blue inlaid with tiny gems, probably khaydarin crystal fragments if Rosemary had to guess. The fabric was thick and almost cried out to be touched, so heavy and lush was it. The overall effect was that Selendis appeared to be draped in the night sky, with her almost-radiant golden armor a bright sun. Atop her head she wore a jeweled band to hold back her nerve cords.

"You look great," Rosemary said. She glanced down at her own body. They'd given her robes of a sort to wear as well, and had cleaned and mended the familiar leather outfit Rosemary had spentwhat felt like half her life in.

"If you so desire, I can arrange for more formal robes to be brought to you," Selendis said, watching Rosemary's eyes as they examined first the protoss and then the folded clothing on the bed. "You will no doubt wish to present yourself properly to the Hierarchy."

"Wait—I thought I was going to see Artanis."

Selendis made a quick movement—a slight twist of the head and a shrug of the shoulders, and Rosemary recognized it as a sign of slight irritation. "I had assumed that the audience would be private as well. But I was mistaken. With so much potentially at stake, all the representatives from the various tribal bloodlines wished to evaluate the situation and decide on the solution."

"Oh that's just great. Now I get to deal with a committee of protoss." Selendis regarded her steadily and Rosemary sighed. "Well, let's get this party started."

"Do you wish more formal robes to be brought to you?"

Again Rosemary looked at the leather outfit. Sure, Selendis looked great in the night-sky robe with her perfectly polished armor. Rosemary had no doubt that she, too, would look stunning in such a dress. There had been times when she would have dressed well for a meeting. Rosemary was a mercenary, and she used all tools in her arsenal, including her body if she had to. But she knew that a female human body, attractive though it might be by her standards, wouldn't matter at all to a bunch of protoss. And in the end, that leather outfit represented the essence of who she was far better than any borrowed and tailored robe. She wasn't a protoss. She was a human female with a very dubious past. They knew that already. They knew everything already.

She thought about that time, seemingly ages ago, when she'd walked into her room at Ethan's compound wearing nothing but a robe to find Jake waiting for her. Jake was convinced Ethan was planning to betray them. And of course, he'd been right. She'd chosen the comfortable, somewhat battered leather uniform over asundress then. She would choose it over an exquisite protoss robe now. Much had happened between that decision and this one, but some things hadn't changed. Would never change.

She turned to face Selendis. "No thanks. I've got my familiar clothes here. That's who I am."

Rosemary felt a brush of admiration—reluctant, but real—touch her mind. She'd just risen a notch in the executor's esteem. An infinitesimal one, but a notch all the same.

As the two protoss left so she could dress in privacy, Rosemary thought she'd need every notch she could get.

A few moments later, Rosemary, clad in the supple leather that fit like a second skin, strode between two tall templar guards. They towered over her by more than half a meter, and they were dressed in no-non-sense armor.

"All this for little old me," she murmured to Vartanil.

"Do not flatter yourself, Rosemary," Selendis said, not even bothering to turn her head. She strode a few paces in front of Rosemary. "It is standard etiquette for a meeting of the Hierarchy."

"Whatever." They strode down a corridor, Rosemary hastening to keep up with the long-legged strides of her templar guards— whoops, it's etiquette, "escorts "—and up a ramp that led to a large oval door. It irised open to reveal a flight pad of sorts atop the building where Rosemary had been kept prisoner—whoops again, "guest." A small ship awaited them. Rosemary raised an eyebrow. Dark templar technology, it had to be. Protoss technology for sure— nothing humans made was so pretty, and while she didn't know much about what the zerg did, she was willing to bet it wasn't aesthetically pleasing—but there were no blues or golds here, just dark hues and a soft green glow. Perhaps the constant twilight hue of the planet made it seem darker than it was, but it was definitely a craft that had been made by a people who spent time in the shadows.

Rosemary had spent a lot of time in the shadows herself. She respected that.

She climbed in and sat down, watching the pilots as best she could, wishing that this was her vessel and that she and Jake were about to head somewhere and—

She blinked. Since when had her fantasies about open space and a ship to fly it in included Professor Jacob Jefferson Ramsey? It was an alarming thought.

Rosemary distracted herself by peering out the window. She could make out dim shapes in the purple-blue below her, spires and towers and smaller, shorter buildings in a variety of shapes and sizes. They were darker blue, with tiny dots of illumination flickering to show that living beings dwelt there. At one point, she passed over something looming and huge that did not resemble any of the architecture she'd seen before. Even she, who was seldom moved by art or architecture, found herself barely breathing, pressing her face to the window to gaze at the thing. It looked like an ancient pyramid, or ziggurat, made of several levels that climbed skyward. Each level was limned with glowing, pale blue and purple light. Khaydarin crystals. At the top, visible even from this distance, an enormous crystal hovered. It was very similar to the one she'd seen in the chambers beneath the surface of Aiur.

"That is the temple," Vartanil said reverently. He, too, was gazing almost hungrily out the window at the mammoth structure that was slowly moving out of their field of vision.

"Oh? Like what Jake found?"

"Yes and no," said Selendis. "Both bear the mark of the Ihan-ril's, the xel'naga's, guidance. But the temple which you and Jacob explored is something quite different from this. Such a thing is more —organic. Wild." Something in the tone of Selendis's mental voice indicated she did not approve of wildness. "The temple you see below you is mathematically precise and orderly."

"Like the Golden Mean. One to one point six."

A flicker of surprise from Selendis. "You know of the ara'dor? The perfect ratio?"

"Jake did. That's how he found Zamara in the first place—she'd left a note, which of course we couldn't read, and sealed herself inside the temple somehow. So Jake was at even more of a disadvantage than a protoss would have been. But he made the connection. He.. .doesn't think like other people do."

"Obviously."

The temple and its flickering, oddly haunting lights was gone. Rosemary leaned back in the chair. "Selendis—can you tell me what I'll be facing when I go in there? I'm not really a people person, in case you hadn't noticed."

At that, Selendis ducked her head and half closed her eyes and laughed more heartily than Rosemary would have given her credit for. "Yes, Rosemary Dahl, this thing I had noticed." She sobered slightly. "Yes. I will prepare you, because I believe in this cause, if not the messenger of it."

That stung more than Rosemary expected, but she brushed it aside. "All I want is for us to find and help Jake and Zamara."

"I know this now. And—they will know that as well. Be prepared to have your mind read immediately upon entering the hall. By everyone present. For the entire duration."

Rosemary's fists clenched and she almost literally growled.

"Rosemary...do you know about Matriarch Raszagal?"

"Raszagal...Jake met her through Zamara's memories. She was just an adolescent when she left Aiur. She's still alive?"

"No. And let me tell you why."

Jake stared at Zeratul. "You...you killed her?" Zamara—why did you bring me to this guy? He betrayed his world and killed his leader! We 're supposed to put my life and the fate of this secret of yours in those kind of hands?

Patience, Jacob. To know all is to understand all.

Jake's voice revealed his shock, abhorrence, and trepidation. Zeratul did not cringe from it. He stood straight and nodded confirmation.

"Yes. By my own hand, I murdered our beloved matriarch." "In God's name, why?" "Because she asked it of me."

Jake's mind continued to reel, and Zamara continued to be silent. Jake thought about why someone might ask such a thing. "She... was she ill? Wounded beyond healing?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Raszagal... our beloved matriarch.. .powerful and wise.. .was being used. Used to betray herown people. Used by one so cunning and unscrupulous that to this day, I cannot fathom the depths of that mind."

Jake thought he'd gotten it. "Ulrezaj!"

"No." Glowing eyes bored into blue ones. "Though I am intrigued as to how you know that name. But that question is for another time. No, I do not refer to Ulrezaj, but to Sarah Kerrigan. The Queen of Blades. She who had once been human and is now the leader of the zerg."

Jake grimaced slightly. "Zamara and I were once discussing her. From what I understand, the zerg turned her into one of them."

Zeratul nodded. "They infested her, but somehow did not destroy her individuality. Kerrigan came to us seemingly in good faith, proposing a plan that would aid the protoss and Kerrigan both. But even before she arrived on our world, Kerrigan had gotten to Raszagal and perverted her to her will."

The words were flooding out of Zeratul now, as if a dam of some sort had been broken. Jake listened intently.

"It was all a trick. A ploy. Kerrigan planned to turn on us the moment she had gotten what she needed. We would never have listened to her at all, no matter how reasonable she sounded, had not our own matriarch urged us to do so. Kerrigan knew that was the only way to get what she wanted from us. She kidnapped Raszagal, and I managed to rescue her."

He looked away for a moment. Protoss facial muscles did not reveal much. It was through their thoughts, so much more nuanced and subtle than human thoughts, and the movements of their graceful and powerful bodies, that they communicated. While Zeratul's expression did not change, the pain and outrage of his thoughts and the slight hunching of his powerful form told Jake as much as—more than—if he had been a human speaking. Zeratul was in torment.

"It was only my matriarch's powerful will that enabled her to speak as herself in that moment," Zeratul continued. "In that moment...as she died. Kerrigan knew that I believed I could free her from the zerg queen's influence. And...so I had hoped, too."

He turned back to Jake. "But in the end, I was mistaken. I could not liberate her—at least, not that way. Death was the only freedom I could grant to one I respected with all my heart. And in that moment, she thanked me."

He bowed his head and shuttered his thoughts from Jake. But not, it would seem, from Zamara.

"’You have freed me from her vile control at last,'" Zamara said softly, gently, and Jake knew she was quoting the ill-fated Raszagal's last words. '"You have always served me with honor... Thus I must ask you—"'

"No!" Zeratul cried violently, spinning around to face Jake and Zamara. "You will not say those words!"

Oh crap, what the hell did Raszagal say? Jake thought, panicked that in his outrage and hurt Zeratul might forget that he wasn't supposed to kill preservers and throttle Jake right on the spot.

Zamara ignored him and implacably continued. "Thus I must ask you to watch over my tribe.. .Zeratul. ..into your hands I give the future.' That's what she asked of you."

The anger seemed to bleed out of Zeratul and he turned away again, hunching over, looking much smaller and more vulnerable.

"I thought Kerrigan would kill me. I expected it. I., .planned on it. Instead, she praised me, calling me a worthy warrior." His eyes narrowed, and the anger—no, not anger, it was deeper, larger than that—the offense returned to him. "She said she had already taken my honor. She was going to let me live because my every waking moment would be torture. Because she knew that I would never be able to forgive myself for what she forced me to do. That, Kerrigan said, would be the best revenge she could imagine."

"You shouldn't let her win like that," Jake said softly.

The lambent eyes focused their full outrage on him. "Watch what you say, human."

"Kerrigan was wrong. She didn't take your honor," Jake continued, wondering where in the world this sudden rather reckless courage was coming from. "You let her take it."

Jacob—

Zamara was warning him to back off. Jake ignored her. "Kerrigan didn't force you to do what you did. Sure, she set up the situation, and it was a horrible one. But you decided what to do about it. You chose to kill Raszagal. Don't blame Kerrigan for that."

Jacob, I would advise you to cease this line of conversation.

Zamara, I don't have a lot of time left to me if we don't convince Zeratul to get off his ass and help us. He's wallowing in self-pity right now.

"You didn't lose your honor. You kept it. Raszagal was at peace with what you did."

Zeratul had been stunned into mental silence at Jake's words, but the mention of Raszagal startled him into erupting. "You did not know my matriarch! How dare you speak for her!"

"But I did know her, in a way." The words were spilling out of him now, as they earlier had from Zeratul himself. "I was Vetraas, and Vetraas knew Raszagal, and that girl, that gutsy little spitfire, was proud of who she was and what she believed in. I bet that didn't change when she got older and became the leader of the dark templar. I bet she just got smarter and wiser and stronger, developed a rational head to go along with that passionate heart. I bet she was a terrific matriarch and loathed every nanosecond of being under Kerrigan's control. You didn't kill your matriarch, Zeratul. Kerrigan did that the minute she forced her way into Raszagal's brain and used her as a puppet to betray her own people. All you did was cut the strings. Raszagal died free. If you don't think there's honor in helping her do that, then I gotta say, you are not the protoss Raszagal thought you were."

Zeratul jerked as if slapped.

"Her last words were a duty you're failing to discharge. You're letting her down, big time. She asked you to watch over her tribe. She put the future in your hands, and right now, you're just sitting on them. My individual future and that of your people—hell, if Zamara's hints are right, the entire universe—is ticking past while you sit here on this out-of-the-way planet and feel sorry for yourself. You want that to be Raszagal's legacy?"

Zeratul moved so fast that Jake didn't realize he'd gone just that extra smidge too far until he was flat on his back with the protoss's hands on his throat. Zamara took over at once, forcing herself into Jake's body and fighting back, flipping Zeratul over, wriggling free, and dropping into a crouching stance.

When she had done this before, Jake's body had been able to defeat a master assassin in hand-to-hand combat. He didn't underestimate Zamara's prowess—she knew every fighting technique every protoss had ever known, after all—but he knew the limits of his own body, and there was no way a human could win this particular fight. Not even a human with a protoss at the wheel.

After all this, I didn 't think I'd die at the hands of a protoss, Jake sent wildly to Zamara.

But he didn't.

Exerting a mental control Jake could only marvel at, Zeratul regained his composure. Calm draped him like a cloak. That stillness, so profound as to be almost unreal, settled over him and he rose to his full intimidating height.

"Leave. Now. And do not return."

Rosemary whistled, soft and low. "Wow. So a human woman warped the matriarch of all the dark templar into serving her will and ultimately forced a loyal subject to kill her. Okay, I see your point. I'm surprised that this Hierarchy of yours is even willing to talk to me after that. I'd heard some about Kerrigan. But not that."

"You do have a great prejudice to overcome," Selendis agreed. "The amount of pain Kerrigan has caused my people cannot be underestimated. Bear in mind also that protoss are unfamiliar with your culture. It may well have been that all females of your species are untrustworthy, and only the males are capable of actions of merit and compassion."

"Well, that's not true. We're all individuals."

"Your past does not exactly lend itself to our believing that."

Rosemary sighed. "I know. But there's nothing I can do about it. I can't and won't deny it or pretend it didn't happen."

Selendis eyed her, and yet again Rosemary felt her measure was being taken. The protoss continued.

"As I said, your thoughts will all be read. That is one thing you must be prepared for. The other thing is, they will do their best to unsettle you, to keep you off balance. Do not permit yourself to be intimidated, and if you do, in Tassadar's name do not become adversarial. Yet also, do not be overly meek. If you win their respect, they will be more likely to give credence to your request."

"Great. Diplomacy. I'm not good at it."

"They will know that too. There are those who will be ready to take your side and those who will be ready to oppose you. We are... not quite yet the united people Adun and Tassadar had hoped we would become." The executor's thoughts were laced with just the barest hint of pain and regret, quickly covered. "But even the dark templar respect preservers. You have an advantage in that the truth of what you say can be verified. Engage them, do not alienate them, and I am hopeful of the outcome."

Engage, but don't alienate. Rosemary made a wry face. Much, much easier said—or in this case thought—than done. She settled back in the overlarge chair, still facing the window but no longer seeing the images that passed below her.

She'd been before the Heir Apparent to the Terran Dominion and stood her ground. She'd killed—or at least thought she'd killed—a man she'd loved in cold blood. She'd lobbed grenades at zerg, piloted a ship under attack, and done any number of other things that required nerves of paristeel.

Why, then, did anticipating this audience make her stomach knot?

She realized it was because before, the only thing that had been at stake was herself. Her life, her fortunes, her feelings. But this time, more—much more—than that rested on how she'd impress this High Muckety-Muck Hierarchy. This time, maybe the whole universe rested on her shoulders.

And even more than that.. Jake's life rested on that.

"Fighting zerg was easier," she muttered.