Janet Morris Silistra 03 Wind from the Abyss

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brightened. Reaching out, he traced the band of restraint at my neck. "If the
first is true, what assurance have I that he isn't 'monitoring' us now?"
"None," I said. "He might be."
He grinned. I met his humor solemn-eyed. A shiver ran perceptibly over his
flesh. "I'm going to start over. Do you know anything about Silistran
politics?"
"You asked me that before," I reminded him. His flat palm stopped in
mid-strike, the wind of it buffeting my cheek. "No." I cowered, startled. "Not
much, anyway."
"That's better," he said. "Now tell me how a bunch of anachronistic savages
managed to destroy two brand-new, unmentionably expensive M-class Aggressives.
I know you were involved." His scowl, brought ominously close, was terrifying.
"At the battle of Amarsa, you mean? It was only a peripheral effect. The
energy I was using to fight Raet as Uritheria threw a whole section of
Silistra out of sequential time " And he did slap me resoundingly. I put my
hand to my stinging cheek.
"Try again," he spat, thrusting his face close once more. The veins at his
temple pulsed his outrage. "What caused the destruction of those ships?"
"Please, I have told you the truth," I whimpered. "Would you make me lie?"
A long time he questioned me, over and over again the same words. And I
answered him as best I could, trying to keep my answers consistent. But he
wanted other knowledge than the truths I had for him. Unaccepting of my
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replies, he sought for those he had preconceived. My throat was dry and
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Janet E. Morris sore and my mind spinning when he finally desisted, truimphant
at having extracted from me an admission that the old weapons of prehistoric
Siiistran wars still existed.
"Somewhere" I had stumbled over my tongue my eagerness to please him "they
are, in the hides. But they are old, so old, and long untended. It is not our
custom to cherish such things. Thousands of years they have lain there. I
would doubt that any are still functional." Huddled opposite him, I fell
silent. I could retreat no farther, my back already pressed against the wall
that spawned the slab. I thought of Chayin's threat to exhume those weapons,
when the M'ksakkans tried to treat with the Parset Lands.
"That," he said, crouched menacingly above me, "makes more sense." His bearing
blared his triumph, that he had found truth that suited his preconception.
"That's the whole key to it, isn't it! Old weapons, from a more sophisticated
culture." He grinned widely. "I'd be willing to bet that some of them are
still functional," he mimicked nastily. "Functional enough to blow a hole in
the B.F. budget, that's sure."
I lowered my gaze to the brown velvet of the slab. My fingers made light
strips running against the nap. Let him, by his own will, be misinformed. When
Khys blasted his M'ksakkan moon from time and space, M'tras would learn,
"Whatever the source," I offered, hesitant, "would it not serve you to avoid a
confrontation with weapons against which you have no defense? Return me to the
dharen. I have some little influence." I lied then, but he could not know it.
"I will see to it that there are no reprisals."
"No chance," he grunted. "As close as I can, I'm going to stick to my first
conception. I'm going to hold you. He'll deal. If he could have just snatched
you, he would have done so by now. If he were
WIND FROM THE ABYSS
167
sure, he would've arrested Dellin." he added, crossing his legs under him. He
watched me attentively, waiting. I only stared.
"What are you thinking?" he demanded.
"That you had better ask these questions of your friend the belt. Its answers
suit you better than mine. But you are a fool to so shortchange the dharen. He
will, when it suits him, do exactly as he wishes with all of us." I wondered
why I bothered, rubbing my bruised cheek. Shifting off one aching thigh, I was
reminded of the coarseness with which he had set about demoralizing me. "I
was" I raised my eyes to him, chin high "once, very powerful. Suspend for a
moment your disbelief. Grant me my blood right. It was I, not Khys, whose
power destroyed your ships, offhandly, while about a much greater undertaking.
With gods did I contend. My father is greatest among the Shapers, those who
created this apparent time and space in which we live. And I fell to Khys.
Totally and completely did he denude me of my strengths, until I could be
taken by even the likes of you. That fact alone should warn you." I broke off,
for he no longer listened. His belt, upon his lap, spoke in its strange
language. He sat very still, attentive. After a time he straightened up,
pulled spread fingers through his black hair. His discontent lay upon him like
a sneer.
"Get dressed," he snapped, rising to take his own orders.
Obediently I wrapped my silk short-length about me. It seemed skimpy,
insufficient covering for this place. It was quickly done, and I stood,
uncertain, awaiting him as he layer by layer donned his fitted gear. When all
that could be seen of his flesh was above the neck and below the wrist, I
ventured to ask it.
"Is it a point of economics that concerns you? Is
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Janet E. Morris it recompense for what you lost at our hands that brought you
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