Conquerors' Heritage

18

He hoped so. Nearly all of the Elders liked rainstorms, at least the quiet, civilized sort. The steady drumming of rain on the shrine; the gentle, almost tickling sensation of the drops that made it through the insect mesh to dribble onto their preserved fsss organs; the restless, capricious breezes whispering around the shrine's corners—it all made for a welcome change for them. A respite from the dreary routine and decreased sensory abilities that figured so strongly in an Elder's life.

He looked up at the sky again. On second thought, he amended, it would be better if the rain held off until next fullarc or at least much later this latearc. It would be a shame for the fleeting pleasures of a rainstorm to come when the Elders couldn't properly appreciate them. With virtually all of them clustered over in Cliffside Dales right now listening to the speakers at that Overclan-sponsored debate/discussion, the noise of a rainstorm would just be a distraction.

Across the path the other dome opened up, and a young Zhirrzh stepped outside. Thrr-aamr, freshly recruited to the position of protector of the Thrr family shrine. "Good latearc, Protector Thrr-tulkoj," he said, nodding politely at his superior. "You're here rather late."

"And going to be later still," Thrr-tulkoj told him. "I got a message a few hunbeats ago on the direct-link that Thrr-brov is ill, so I'll be taking his shift this latearc."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Thrr-aamr said. "Do you want me to call one of the Elders and have him track down a substitute?"

"Don't bother," Thrr-tulkoj said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "I'm not tired; and anyway, the Elders are all having a big argument over at Cliffside Dales. I wouldn't want to interrupt their fun."

Thrr-aamr grinned. "I understand. Anyway, I've finished the fullarc's statement and sent it across to your recorder for approval. I've also gone ahead and started the twenty-fullarc review of the current shrine population. Is there anything else I should be working on?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Thrr-tulkoj said, frowning at him. "Aren't we about two fullarcs early for a population review?"

Thrr-aamr shrugged. "I thought that, given how quiet it's likely to be this latearc, I might as well go ahead and get it started now."

Thrr-tulkoj smiled wryly. The kid might be young and fresh to the job, but already he'd caught on to the chief reason family shrines still bothered with protectors. Not to protect them, but to have someone on hand at all times for lonely Elders to talk to. "Point well taken," he said. "Sure, keep going with it."

"Yes, Protector."

Thrr-tulkoj glanced at the sky again. "On second thought, as long as you're already on your feet, why don't you go ahead and do a perimeter walk first. The initial section of a population review mostly runs itself, anyway."

"Yes, I know," Thrr-aamr said, reaching into the dome and picking up his laser rifle. "I'll be back soon," he added, slinging it over his shoulder and starting down the path toward the gate.

"No rush," Thrr-tulkoj said. "Might as well enjoy the air and make a really good check of the fence. As you said, it's going to be a quiet latearc."

"Sure thing," Thrr-aamr said.

Thrr-tulkoj stepped back into his dome and touched the door button. The curved wedge of material slid closed on its track and sealed; and as it did so, the dome abruptly seemed to vanish as the special ceramic turned one-way transparent. For a few beats he watched Thrr-aamr make his way toward the predator fence gate, now sealed for the latearc. Then, stretching once, he turned around and sat down on his couch, swiveled now to face the shrine. For a beat he gazed up at the brilliant white surface, growing dim as the sunlight faded out to the west. Then, dropping his attention to his desk, he activated his recorder and began reading Thrr-aamr's fullarc statement.

Across the darkened chambers came a quiet knock at the door. Frowning, the Prime looked up from his recorder. "Come in," he called.

The door opened. "Good latearc, Overclan Prime," Speaker Cvv-panav said as he stepped inside. "You're up late. I take it I'm not intruding?"

"Not particularly," the Prime said, not entirely truthfully. "Can I help you with something?"

"No," Cvv-panav said, closing the door behind him. "I just thought I'd stop by to tell you that it's started."

"What's started?"

"The retrieval of Thrr-pifix-a's fsss organ from her family shrine, of course," Cvv-panav said, settling himself down on the visitor's couch in front of the Prime's desk. "Surely you hadn't forgotten?"

"Hardly," the Prime said, looking at his armwatch. "I'm a bit surprised at the timing, that's all. It won't even be fully dark out in Kee'rr territory yet."

"It's dark enough," Cvv-panav assured him. "Certainly for a theft from a couple of simple and unsuspecting shrine protectors." He paused. "And, of course, the slightly early timing should help in getting the jump on all the rest of it, too."

The Prime eyed him. "All the rest of what?"

Cvv-panav smiled tightly. "Come now, Overclan Prime. You didn't really think I was foolish enough to take your story at face value, did you? Thrr-pifix-a being a threat to the stability of Zhirrzh culture, and all that?"

"That wasn't just a story," the Prime said quietly. In the darkness behind Cvv-panav, he could make out the image of the Eighteenth, hovering there listening. "Thrr-pifix-a's attitude is a genuine threat to the legal and traditional bases of Eldership. One that has cropped up more than once in the past five hundred cyclics."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Cvv-panav agreed. "And I have no doubt that you see it as a danger of sorts. But we both know what you see as the real threat to your power."

The Prime flicked his tongue. "You?"

"Very good," Cvv-panav said approvingly. "No feigned surprise; no false astonishment. And all by itself it proves that I'm right."

The Eighteenth was still there, still listening. An emergency communication link that Cvv-panav didn't know about, should this whole thing go badly wrong. "You're wrong," the Prime told Cvv-panav. "I guessed only because I understand how you think. That you see yourself as one of the High Warriors of old, who will lead the Dhaa'rr to glorious domination of the eighteen worlds. The breakwater that all other Zhirrzh must throw themselves against, to destroy or else be destroyed by."

"All politics is warfare, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav said. "All of life is, for that matter. It's a battle of wills and of strength. Of course you're out to destroy me. That's the natural order of things."

"And where does cooperation come in?"

Cvv-panav sniffed contemptuously. "Cooperation was invented by people who didn't have enough strength to win what they really wanted. You and I are warriors, Overclan Prime. We're beyond such things."

The Prime flicked his tongue in disgust. "You've certainly recreated the attitude of the old High Warriors—I'll give you that much. Enough of this, and we won't need the Human-Conquerors to destroy our culture for us."

"I would say it's precisely that warrior attitude that we need right now," Cvv-panav countered. "You can bet the Human-Conquerors didn't grow to dominate all within their reach by making compromises with inferior peoples. Tell me about CIRCE."

The Prime felt his tail twitch. "CIRCE?" he asked as casually as he could. "What's that?"

"Don't play coy with me, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav warned. "You know perfectly well what CIRCE is. It's a Human-Conqueror weapon of great power. I want to know the details."

The Eighteenth was still there. "I don't know what you're talking about," the Prime said. "Where did you hear about this CIRCE?"

Cvv-panav snorted under his breath. "The High Warrior plays for time," he said, a note of disgust in his voice. "Fine; so be it. I have as much time as you do... and when your obvious little warrior net comes up empty, you'll tell me what I want to know. Or else I'll bring you down, and the entire Overclan along with you."

The Prime grimaced. So Cvv-panav knew all about the warrior net he'd set around the Thrr family shrine. "Perhaps," he said, his mouth and voice stiff. "We'll see. In the meantime, as you pointed out, it's rather late. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Certainly," Cvv-panav said, settling himself more comfortably on his couch. "Go right ahead. We have all latearc."

There was a flicker of light, just visible out of the corner of his eye, and with a frown Thrr-tulkoj looked up from his reader. Odd; the weather forecast hadn't made any mention of lightning. Letting his lowlight pupils widen, he scanned the sky beyond the shrine.

It was certainly cloudy enough in that direction, but they weren't the sort of clouds that generally spawned thunderstorms. Even as he studied them, though, there was another flicker of light, this one off to his right. He turned quickly, just in time to catch a third flash from over the hills that dotted the eastern horizon. And it had definitely not looked like lightning.

It had looked like laser fire.

Eyes still on the hills, he fumbled for the key that activated his direct-link to the other dome. "Thrr-aamr?" he called. "Take a look at the horizon due east."

There was no answer. "Thrr-aamr? Come on, look alive."

Again, no answer. Of course: Thrr-aamr was probably still walking the perimeter. Peering out at the predator fence half a thoustride away, Thrr-tulkoj keyed off the direct-link and reached instead for the control to the loudspeaker he used to summon Elders. The noise would cut into their debate over in Cliffside Dales, of course, but that couldn't be helped. Anyway, it wouldn't be any worse for them than if he stepped outside the dome and shouted.

He paused, his fingers resting on the switch. Thrr-aamr wasn't walking along the predator fence, at least not any part of it Thrr-tulkoj could see. In fact, the younger protector was nowhere to be seen.

Thrr-tulkoj looked around the fence again, an unpleasant tingle running through him. No; no mistake. Thrr-aamr had vanished.

Unless he was back in his dome and the direct-link had simply malfunctioned. Sure; that was probably what had happened. All Thrr-tulkoj had to do was step outside, tap on Thrr-aamr's dome, and the two of them together could then have a nice calm discussion about what kind of phenomenon could produce lightning that looked like laser fire.

Thrr-tulkoj's hand was still resting on the loudspeaker switch. He let it go, inactivated, moving his hand instead to the laser rifle propped against the dome beside the door. Sliding off his couch, he punched the door release and slipped outside.

The sun was long gone beneath the horizon, and the shifting breezes had turned chilly. For a few beats Thrr-tulkoj crouched beside the dome, laser rifle held ready, ear slits straining for any unusual sounds. Nothing. His lowlight pupils were already fully open, and now that he was outside the darklight-blocking effect of the dome, he let his darklight pupils widen as well. The landscape around him took on tinges of heat-radiant glow; carefully, methodically, he began a slow sweep of the parts of the shrine enclosure he could see.

Nothing.

Swearing under his breath, he moved a quarter of the way around the side of his dome and started the search again. This was stupid. It really was. Chances were good Thrr-aamr was sitting inside his dome right now, either completely oblivious to Thrr-tulkoj's antics out here or else watching in bemusement as his superior made a fool of himself. He ought to just go over and pound on the door—

He froze. There, across by the bluff overview, something was lying on the ground beside the predator fence. About the size of an adult Zhirrzh.

Not moving.

"Of course it was obvious to me from the start what you really had in mind when you suggested this operation," Cvv-panav commented. "People close to me, I believe you specified when we talked; people I could implicitly trust. People whose very identity would indict me along with them when your net of warriors caught them with a stolen fsss organ in hand."

"I had nothing of the sort in mind," the Prime said. "The Overclan warriors are surrounding the Thrr shrine solely to provide your people with cover. To make sure no one wanders into the area at an awkward time."

"Ah," Cvv-panav said. "So you admit that there are warriors there?"

"It wouldn't do much good to deny it," the Prime pointed out. "You've obviously already had word from your own people that they're there. My question is, what are you doing to them?"

"The High Warrior worried about his warriors?"

The Prime locked eyes with him. "The Overclan Prime concerned about those under his authority," he bit out. "What are you doing to them?"

Cvv-panav's mouth twitched. "It depends on how peacefully they surrender," he said, some of the arrogance gone from his voice. "Assuming the idea of Eldership holds no great fascination for any of them, they should all be lying on the ground by now with laser rifles held against their fsss scars. Unhurt."

"And if they decided instead to fight?"

Cvv-panav shrugged. "I sincerely hope that's not the case. I have no particular desire to raise any of them to Eldership."

"I'm pleased to hear that," the Prime said bitterly. "I don't suppose any of that altruism might come from the fact that raising them to Eldership would put them in instant contact with the Elder community and flash the alarm all across Oaccanv."

Cvv-panav shrugged again. "My people know what they're doing. Tell me about CIRCE."

"I trust your people will also remember that the Overclan warriors standing by near Reeds Village are there to arrest Thrr-pifix-a after her fsss has been delivered to her," the Prime said, ignoring the other's question. "If they're delayed too long, she'll have time to destroy it."

"Ending any chance of burying the incident without a public trial," Cvv-panav nodded. "Don't worry, Overclan Prime. I'm watching over the Dhaa'rr clan's interests here. All of our interests. Now, are you going to tell me about CIRCE? Or shall I instruct the Dhaa'rr Elders to begin spreading the word about this mysterious Human-Conqueror weapon that has the Mrachanis so frightened?"

The Prime grimaced. So that was how Cvv-panav had found out about CIRCE. Bad; but not as bad as it might have been. The Mrachanis who'd landed at the Dorcas beachhead had said little more than CIRCE's name before Warrior Command had been able to stifle that line of discussion. It was too bad that one of the Elders in attendance had leaked the name to Cvv-panav, but at least he didn't have the whole story.

But even with just a name he had enough of a lever to do some serious prying with. And if he chose to have this out in public in the Overclan Seating, nothing about CIRCE would stay a secret for long.

So it all hung on what happened in the next couple of tentharcs out in Kee'rr territory—on his people's skill, and on the accuracy of his own perception of how Cvv-panav saw the universe and his own place in it.

"I have nothing to say right now about CIRCE," he told Cvv-panav. "Except that it's something that must be kept secret."

Cvv-panav smiled. "In other words, you still have hopes that your warriors will prevail out there and bring me down. Very well; I can wait. When word comes that my people have completed their mission and successfully vanished into the darkness of latearc, perhaps you'll recognize that your choices are between a private briefing or a public battle."

"Perhaps," the Prime said. "Or perhaps an entirely different word will come to you. Shall we wait here together and see?"

Cvv-panav eyed him, the first hint of uncertainty flicking across his face. "Certainly," he said. "Why not."

It was Thrr-aamr, all right, lying there in a crumpled heap at the base of the predator fence. Unconscious, a swelling lump already forming at the base of his skull where he'd been hit. Beside him was a neat cut in the mesh of the fence, just big enough for a Zhirrzh to crawl through, directly over the steepest part of the bluff.

Someone had penetrated the enclosure.

Thrr-tulkoj swore again, this time meaning it, as he dropped flat on the ground beside Thrr-aamr and swung his laser rifle around to firing position. He couldn't see anything moving or radiating near the shrine, but that didn't prove much. He—or they—could be around on the far side of the shrine right now, out of Thrr-tulkoj's sight. Besides, intruders clever enough to breach the fence at the one spot no protector would ever expect trouble would certainly be clever enough to be wearing darklight-suppressing combat suits while they did it.

They would also be clever enough to crawl across the ground, lest someone watching from the protectors' domes spotted them. Which would take time. Which meant that unless Thrr-aamr had happened to have the misfortune of catching them on their way out, the intruders were most likely still here.

Pressed against the ground, his tail spinning rapidly, Thrr-tulkoj peered across the open ground and wondered what in the eighteen worlds he was going to do. The simplest, most straightforward thing would be to shout as loud as he could and hope that at least some of the Elders on this side of the shrine would hear him. If he could get a warning into the Elder community, the whole planet could be aroused in a matter of hunbeats.

But there was no guarantee that his voice would carry well enough against the latearc breezes for anyone to hear him. Except maybe the intruders. And if they were armed—and they almost certainly were—then at the first sign of trouble from him they would do their best to raise him to Eldership.

Thrr-tulkoj wasn't afraid of Eldership. The threat of premature raising was supposed to come with this job. But if he was raised now, it would leave the Elders and the shrine completely defenseless.

Steady, he told himself firmly, pressing closer against Thrr-aamr. Think it through. You're a trained protector, and you're a long way from being helpless here. Think it through.

He should have used the loudspeaker right at the beginning, of course. In backsight that was painfully clear. But the procedures stated explicitly that the Elders were not to be alerted in cases of suspected intrusion, probably because every such incident for the past hundred cyclics had turned out to be a false alarm. Thrr-tulkoj had hit the direct-link emergency signal mounted to the side of the dome before heading over here; the fact that there hadn't yet been a response from Cliffside Dales implied that the intruders must have cut the cable somewhere before breaking in. Either that, or the system had simply fallen apart from disuse.

The best thing would be if he could get back to the dome. The loudspeaker would let him sound the alarm, not to mention the laser protection the one-way ceramic would afford him if it came down to a battle.

Unfortunately, nearly half a thoustride of open ground lay between him and the domes right now. Worse, he hadn't been particularly surreptitious on his way over to the fence. If the intruders had spotted him, they were undoubtedly watching and waiting for his next move. Probably with lasers already pointed his direction.

Which left him really only one option. He would have to slip through the hole the intruders had made in the fence, make his way down the bluff and over to the rail stop near the gate, and use the direct-link installed there to sound the alert. It would be a tricky climb, and it would mean leaving the shrine undefended, but there was nothing he could do about that. Keeping a close eye on the area around the shrine, he started to ease his way around Thrr-aamr—

And froze, listening. A new sound was drifting in to him over the latearc breezes. A transport, somewhere in the near distance.

The reinforcements from Cliffside Dales had arrived.

Moving his head as little as possible, Thrr-tulkoj searched the sky for the craft, a fresh surge of excitement rippling through him. Protector laser rifles were infinitely adjustable, in both intensity and spread angle, and there was a specified procedure for tuning the power and muzzle-coning down far enough to make the weapon into a safe flash-code signaler. A signaler, moreover, whose beam would be easily visible to the transport pilot and yet wouldn't sizzle the atmospheric water enough to produce emissions visible in any other direction. He could start with a simple three-two-three distress signal....

He frowned, his hands pausing midway through the necessary adjustments. The hum of the transport's engines had choked suddenly, dissolving into the sharp crackle characteristic of a misfiring transkilmer. Was the transport in trouble? He looked around the sky again, but he couldn't spot any running lights in the direction the sound was coming from. Odd. Had the transport's optronics failed, too? No; of course, the warriors would be trying to make an invisible approach. The hum returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again—

And then, in the middle of the last crackle, he abruptly understood. The noise wasn't coming from engine failure, at least not from unintentional engine failure. It had been deliberately created, designed for a very specific purpose.

To cover up the sound of a fsss-niche cover being opened.

For a beat Thrr-tulkoj's mind flashed back four fullarcs to that attempt by Thrr-gilag's mother to steal back her fsss. Thrr-pifix-a herself couldn't have climbed the bluff, certainly, but she might have found friends or relatives to do it for her.

He glanced down at Thrr-aamr's unconscious form. No. He knew Thrr-pifix-a and her family, and none of them would ever have condoned violence of this sort against one of her shrine's protectors.

But then who? And why?

The transport's engines had settled down again to their normal hum, and from the sound of it, the vehicle was veering off. Apparently its sole job had been to cover the noise of the intruders opening their target niche.

Thrr-tulkoj gripped his rifle harder, the brief flicker of hope giving way again to frustrated indecision. The intruders had one of the niches open now, with free access to the fsss organ inside. But surely the owner would have felt their touch by now and come back to investigate.

But no Elder had yet appeared. Were they dealing with the fsss of someone who was still a physical, then?

Again Thrr-tulkoj's thoughts flicked to Thrr-pifix-a. But again he rejected the idea that she could possibly be behind this. This was something vicious, like the bitter living-death feuds of nine hundred cyclics ago.

He winced at the thought. Living death: the deliberate destruction of an enemy physical's fsss. The exquisite torture of leaving him to live out his physical life with the knowledge that nothing but certain death awaited him at the end of it. Such feuds had once been widespread on Oaccanv, ultimately precipitating the Second Eldership War. If someone was trying to resurrect the abominations of that era...

He stiffened. Over at the shrine a figure had raised itself up from the ground. For a beat it stood there, silhouetted against the white ceramic. Then, crouching low, it headed across the enclosure.

Directly toward Thrr-tulkoj.

Thrr-tulkoj pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth, quickly readjusting his laser rifle back to full power. The figure was still coming, blatantly arrogant in his presumption that no protector would dare fire on him with a shrine at his back. Lifting his laser rifle a fraction, Thrr-tulkoj peered through its sights. Right or wrong, it was time to make a move. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he settled his thumbs against the rifle's triggers.

His only warning was a whisper of sound from above him... and by then it was too late. Too late to react; too late to move; too late to do anything but realize to his shame and chagrin that the enemy had outmaneuvered him one final time. Against the sudden hum of the returning transport came the faint flopping sound of something semirigid flying through the air toward him—

And suddenly he was hammered flat against the ground as the black stickiness of a tar slab slammed into him.

He dropped his weapon, turning half-over and pushing upward against the sticky, semisolid blackness. It molded itself around his hands, the sides folding gradually but inexorably in toward his body. He tried pulling his hands sideways in opposite directions, hoping to tear a hole in it. But the slab was too thick, the material too resilient, and he succeeded only in lowering the roof of the slowly shrinking cave he and Thrr-aamr were in. Desperately, he let go with one hand and grabbed for his laser rifle, swiveling it awkwardly in the cramped space and managing to get it jammed up into the tar like a tent pole. Mentally pleading for good luck, he pressed the triggers.

The entire tar slab didn't burst into flame, as he'd feared it might. Instead, a small section around the muzzle flashed into vapor. The slab dropped inward around the new hole; holding it back with one hand, Thrr-tulkoj repositioned the rifle to another spot and fired again.

It seemed to take forever but was probably no more than fifteen hunbeats before he had enough of the tar slab vaporized to pull himself out from under it. Breathing heavily, his tail going double time with the body heat he hadn't been able to get rid of in there, he got shakily to his feet and looked around.

Not that there was any need to do so. The intruders and their transport were long gone, having accomplished whatever it was they'd come there to do.

Swearing dully, he reached down and pulled Thrr-aamr partway out of the tar, making sure his face and tail were clear. Then, retrieving his rifle, he headed across the enclosure toward the dome. It was far too late to give the alarm now—whatever the damage, it was already done. But it was still part of his job to do so.

Very likely the last part of this job he would ever do.

"Yes, I'm coming," Thrr-pifix-a called as the insistent knock came a second time on her door. She'd spent much of the postmidarc in her garden, and her legs had now stiffened up as she sat fussing with her decorative edgework. "I'll be there in just a hunbeat."

Whoever was out there apparently heard her, because the knocking stopped. She made her way across the conversation room to the foyer, her legs thankfully loosening up somewhat in the process. Reaching the door, she opened it.

There was no one there.

Frowning, she took a half step outside, letting her lowlight and darklight pupils widen as she looked around in the darkness. No one. Some child, perhaps, up late pulling pranks? She took another half step outside, shivering in the chilly latearc air—

Her foot kicked something solid. Frowning some more, she looked down.

It was a small pouch, of the sort she liked to practice her edgework on, just lying there in the dirt. Bending over with some difficulty—her back had stiffened up, too—she retrieved it and stepped back into the foyer. Pulling the fastening strip open, she looked inside.

And froze, her hands going suddenly rigid.

It was a fsss organ.

She hurried outside again, this time going all the way to the roadway. But Korthe and Dornt were nowhere to be seen. They must have just set the pouch and fsss down and run.

Something in the back of Thrr-pifix-a's mind found that disturbing. But for right now it didn't seem to matter. What mattered was that they'd kept their pledge to her.

She had her fsss.

Slowly, she retraced her steps back into the house, closing and locking the door behind her. She had her fsss. Here, in her hands. Her own fsss. To destroy, if she so chose.

The question was, did she now so choose?

She groped her way to the kitchen table and sat down, staring into the open pouch as she did so, her mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions and questions. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Of course it was. She had her future—her life—here in her hands. All she had to do—

And suddenly, without challenge or warning of any sort, her door slammed open.

She spun around in her chair, the pouch somehow getting away from startled fingers. Three Zhirrzh were already in her house—big Zhirrzh, wearing the sort of warrior fighting suits she'd seen in pictures and dramas—with more of them piling in through the door behind them. All were carrying short, vicious-looking weapons; all were wearing grim expressions.

Weapons and expressions that were pointed directly at her.

"What's going on?" she demanded. Or rather, tried to demand. Even in her own ear slits, her voice sounded as weak and thin as that of a sickly child. "What do you want?"

The lead warrior didn't bother to answer. Stepping into the kitchen, he reached a long arm down to the floor and retrieved the pouch she'd dropped. "Is this yours?" he asked, his voice as cold as the latearc air as he held it up.

For the first time Thrr-pifix-a focused on the pouch itself. To find, to her utter amazement, that it was indeed hers. There was her edgework, plain as a sunny fullarc, edgework she'd completed not five fullarcs ago.

But how in the eighteen worlds had it wound up at her door?

The warrior was still waiting for an answer. "Yes," she murmured, still staring at the pouch. Korthe or Dornt must have stolen it. That was the only explanation. They must have stolen it while they were here last fullarc. Without her even noticing.

"And this," the warrior said, holding it open for her inspection. "You want to tell us what you're doing with this?"

Thrr-pifix-a stared up at his face, a horrible twisting sensation knifing through her. Suddenly, suddenly, it was clear. She'd been set up. For whatever reason, she'd been set up. "I didn't take it," she whispered. "It was two young male Zhirrzh. Korthe and Dornt, they called themselves. They said they were members of an organization called Freedom of Decision for All."

"Uh-huh," the first warrior grunted, handing the pouch to another warrior. "Korthe and Dornt, from Freedom of Decision for All. Right."

"It's true," Thrr-pifix-a insisted. "Really. They said they'd get my fsss for me. And they did."

"And did they happen to mention to you that fsss theft is a grand-first felony?" another warrior put in harshly.

"That's enough," the first warrior said before Thrr-pifix-a could stammer an answer. "We'll check it out. In the meantime—" He fixed Thrr-pifix-a with cold eyes. "Thrr-pifix-a; Kee'rr, you're hereby charged with grand-first theft and placed under detention. By authority of the Overclan."

Thrr-pifix-a squeezed her eyes shut. She made no comment, offered no resistance, as they helped her up and took her out into the cold latearc air.

The messenger turned and left the chambers, closing the door behind her. "Well?" the Prime asked as Cvv-panav opened the message. Though he was pretty sure he already knew what was in it.

He was right. "As expected," Cvv-panav said, tossing the message casually onto the desk in front of the Prime. "My people have completed their mission." He eyed the Prime, his expression just short of gloating. "Without any successful interference from either the Thrr protectors or your warriors."

"As I've already told you, my warriors weren't there to interfere," the Prime reminded him.

"Of course they weren't," Cvv-panav said. "Well. According to this, my people observed your warriors enter Thrr-pifix-a's house and take her away in a transport. You should be getting a report on that yourself before long."

"No doubt," the Prime agreed. In actual fact the report had already come in, transmitted via the direct-link to his reader nearly ten hunbeats ago. But Cvv-panav didn't have to know that. "I presume that finishes the latearc's excitement. You'll be going home now, I expect."

Cvv-panav eyed him. "Unless you're ready to tell me about the weapon called CIRCE."

The Prime flicked his tongue in a negative. "CIRCE is a warrior secret, Speaker. As I've already told you."

"And as I've already told you, you'll tell me or you'll tell the entire Overclan Seating," Cvv-panav countered. "And all the Elders who'll be listening. I'm not bluffing."

"You'd threaten to bring down the entire Overclan system in the middle of a war?" the Prime asked.

"Why not?" Cvv-panav shot back. "You were prepared this latearc to destroy me and alienate the entire Dhaa'rr clan from the Overclan."

"The warriors were not there—"

"Spare me," Cvv-panav cut him off, standing up. "You've got until the Overclan Seating session next postmidarc to tell me about CIRCE. After that what happens will be on your own shoulders, Overclan Prime."

Without waiting for a reply he turned and stalked out of the chambers, slamming the door behind him.

"Well," the Eighteenth commented in the sudden silence. "That seemed to go well."

"Or at least as expected," the Prime said, unclenching his hands.

The Eighteenth peered at him. "You're not worried, are you?" he asked. "Everything's worked out exactly as planned."

"Except for how he's going to react," the Prime said, gesturing in the direction Cvv-panav had gone. "He's got enough pride and stubbornness for any six Zhirrzh. What if he doesn't fold?"

"He will," the Eighteenth assured him. "He'll fold because he's also ambitious. Ambitious Zhirrzh do not bring the target of their ambitions down in flames around them. Not if there are any other options still remaining."

"He won't forget this, though," the Prime said. "There'll be more trouble with him down the line."

"We have the Human-Conquerors arrayed against us," the Eighteenth reminded him grimly. "Under the circumstances I think one vindictive Clan Speaker will be the least of our worries."