voice inside his head, even as he brought the gun to position.
No ! his voice screamed again, destroying his contentment; his satisfaction.
His hands shook; he thrust the voice away; found his focus; and sighted.
“NO! That’s Miri!”
He brought the rifle down; he lifted it—and hurled it away, sobbing—
* * *
There was silence in the tent, save for his brother’s ragged breathing. Rys used the kerchief again, gently, pity warring with guilt.
“ Now ,” Silain whispered.
Val Con screamed, every muscle rigid—and collapsed, boneless as a cat. The anguished grip of his fingers relaxed, though he did not entirely relinquish Rys’ hand.
He drew a breath, deep and unsteady. Another. And another.
His form blurred, and Rys raised the cloth to wipe his own eyes.
“He has chosen,” Silain said, and touched the switch at last.
* * *
Duty was gone; purpose deserted him.
He was alone in a darkness so complete he could not see his own soul.
Gasping, he thrashed, a drowning man flailing after the lifesaving rope. He threw himself—forward, backward—knowing that it must be near; knowing that she would not leave him alone. Her strength would rescue him; he needed only to find the link…
But it remained outside of his grasp.
* * *
Silain leaned forward, carefully removed the mesh crown from his head, and draped it over the box.
“ Wake ,” she said, the full power of the luthia’s will resonating in her voice. “Wake, Val Con yos’Phelium, and greet your brother!”
There came another breath; a twitch of dark brows; the gleam of green eyes behind thick, sheltering lashes.
“Gone.” His voice was a ragged whisper. “ Gone .”
He flung himself into Rys’ arms, weeping.
Chapter Nine
Blair Road
Surebleak
“Can’t say he sounds like the sharpest knife in the kit,” Cheever McFarland commented, after Liz’s tape had run out.
“’Course, you’d want that, with this kind o’job.”
Natesa laughed, and shook her head.
“But, why?” Pat Rin asked. “Where is the gain?”
“To disrupt the port, and throw those who maintain order into disarray? If it had been well-planned, there would have been much for…someone to gain. Including the overthrow of the Council, eventually.”
“Clearly, however, it was not well-planned.”
“Might be a rock thrown over our heads,” Mr. McFarland said. “Fair warning, so to speak. Might just be somebody out for simple mischief.”
“It might,” Natesa said, “be a test.”
Pat Rin looked at her.
“A test of whom? Or what?”
“Security,” Cheever said. “How good are these guys?”
“Possibly,” Natesa agreed. “Someone may also have wished to ascertain how good Hazenthull is, specifically.”
Pat Rin frowned.
“You mean a strike at Korval.”
She moved her hand in the pilot’s sign for maybe/maybe not .
“In this case, multiple strikes could be delivered with one blow: Hazenthull, her partner, Security, Korval, and the Council of Bosses. Or it could have been something simpler.
“A test, as Cheever suggests, to find how Hazenthull comports herself—or to mark any weakness in the working relationship between the partners, which might be exploited.”
She sighed and shook her head.
“Again, had they been more organized—” She threw Cheever a half-smile—“or chosen a sharper blade—they might have created a situation that pulled other Security teams away from the real target. As it is…Chief Lizardi is a canny woman. She will already have put her officers on alert. I am in the port this morning and can easily stop by and talk with her regarding potential targets.”
Pat Rin sighed, irritated.
“Ifs and maybes.”
“’S’what keeps life inneresting,” Cheever said. “What do you want to do with this Kipler, Boss?”
“There is a council meeting tomorrow evening. Mr. Kipler may continue to enjoy the hospitality of the Whosegow until he may be brought before all of the Bosses to explain himself. We will
No ! his voice screamed again, destroying his contentment; his satisfaction.
His hands shook; he thrust the voice away; found his focus; and sighted.
“NO! That’s Miri!”
He brought the rifle down; he lifted it—and hurled it away, sobbing—
* * *
There was silence in the tent, save for his brother’s ragged breathing. Rys used the kerchief again, gently, pity warring with guilt.
“ Now ,” Silain whispered.
Val Con screamed, every muscle rigid—and collapsed, boneless as a cat. The anguished grip of his fingers relaxed, though he did not entirely relinquish Rys’ hand.
He drew a breath, deep and unsteady. Another. And another.
His form blurred, and Rys raised the cloth to wipe his own eyes.
“He has chosen,” Silain said, and touched the switch at last.
* * *
Duty was gone; purpose deserted him.
He was alone in a darkness so complete he could not see his own soul.
Gasping, he thrashed, a drowning man flailing after the lifesaving rope. He threw himself—forward, backward—knowing that it must be near; knowing that she would not leave him alone. Her strength would rescue him; he needed only to find the link…
But it remained outside of his grasp.
* * *
Silain leaned forward, carefully removed the mesh crown from his head, and draped it over the box.
“ Wake ,” she said, the full power of the luthia’s will resonating in her voice. “Wake, Val Con yos’Phelium, and greet your brother!”
There came another breath; a twitch of dark brows; the gleam of green eyes behind thick, sheltering lashes.
“Gone.” His voice was a ragged whisper. “ Gone .”
He flung himself into Rys’ arms, weeping.
Chapter Nine
Blair Road
Surebleak
“Can’t say he sounds like the sharpest knife in the kit,” Cheever McFarland commented, after Liz’s tape had run out.
“’Course, you’d want that, with this kind o’job.”
Natesa laughed, and shook her head.
“But, why?” Pat Rin asked. “Where is the gain?”
“To disrupt the port, and throw those who maintain order into disarray? If it had been well-planned, there would have been much for…someone to gain. Including the overthrow of the Council, eventually.”
“Clearly, however, it was not well-planned.”
“Might be a rock thrown over our heads,” Mr. McFarland said. “Fair warning, so to speak. Might just be somebody out for simple mischief.”
“It might,” Natesa said, “be a test.”
Pat Rin looked at her.
“A test of whom? Or what?”
“Security,” Cheever said. “How good are these guys?”
“Possibly,” Natesa agreed. “Someone may also have wished to ascertain how good Hazenthull is, specifically.”
Pat Rin frowned.
“You mean a strike at Korval.”
She moved her hand in the pilot’s sign for maybe/maybe not .
“In this case, multiple strikes could be delivered with one blow: Hazenthull, her partner, Security, Korval, and the Council of Bosses. Or it could have been something simpler.
“A test, as Cheever suggests, to find how Hazenthull comports herself—or to mark any weakness in the working relationship between the partners, which might be exploited.”
She sighed and shook her head.
“Again, had they been more organized—” She threw Cheever a half-smile—“or chosen a sharper blade—they might have created a situation that pulled other Security teams away from the real target. As it is…Chief Lizardi is a canny woman. She will already have put her officers on alert. I am in the port this morning and can easily stop by and talk with her regarding potential targets.”
Pat Rin sighed, irritated.
“Ifs and maybes.”
“’S’what keeps life inneresting,” Cheever said. “What do you want to do with this Kipler, Boss?”
“There is a council meeting tomorrow evening. Mr. Kipler may continue to enjoy the hospitality of the Whosegow until he may be brought before all of the Bosses to explain himself. We will
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