F. Wilson - The Tery

"Wait here, Jon. Get ready to open this thing as soon as you see me. I don't know what I'm going to find up here and I may want to get back down there in a big hurry."

"I will wait."

Dalt walked to where the alley merged with a narrow thoroughfare and looked about. Not much traffic this time of day. The civilians from the village down the hill had sold their wares or done their assigned tasks and were gradually filtering out of the fortress and returning to their homes. All were to be out of the fortress by sunset.

He watched two peasant types pass by and fell in behind them, dredging up his mannerism training and putting it to use.

Like most Cultural Survey Service operatives, he had been put through in-depth training in human behavior and mannerisms, the rationale being that humans will behave like humans no matter how long they have been separated from the rest of the race. There would always be exceptions, of course, but in general the CS theory had been proven correct on many a cut-off splinter world. Dalt had been taught to utilize an array of subtle, non-specific behavioral cues to give him an aura of belonging in any milieu. Calling on that training now as he walked the streets of Overlord Mekk's fortress, he appeared to be a civilian who was used to traveling within these walls and who knew exactly where he was going.

But he had no idea where he was going. He knew he did not want to go through the gate and down to the village, which was where the two men he was following were headed. He turned off at an intersection and went hunting for barracks or any other place where the troops might gather this time of day.

Near sunset he found a group of them clustered about the door to a tavern of sorts, sipping mugs of ale and laughing. Probably just off the day watch. Dalt approached and stood slightly off to one side, affecting an air of humble deference to their positions as defenders of the Overlord.

Finally someone deigned to notice him.

"What are you standing there for?" a trooper asked in a surly tone.

He was dark, middle-aged, with a big belly and no hint of kindness or mirth in his laughter.

Dalt avoided eye contact and said, "Sir, I —"

"Looking for a drink?"

The trooper casually flipped the dregs of his mug at Dalt who could have easily dodged the flying liquid, but chose instead to let it spatter across his jerkin.

He carefully brushed himself off while the troopers roared and slapped the fat one on the back. Adjusting his clothes, he checked on the position of the blaster tucked inside his belt. CSS regulations forbade carrying one, but he knew Mekk's troops were selected for their brutality and, regulations or no regulations, he had no intention of letting some barbarian swine stick a dirk between his ribs just for fun.

"I'm searching for Captain Ghentren," he said when the laughter had quieted enough for him to be heard.

"You won't find him here," the fat one said, more kindly disposed now toward a man he had embarrassed and degraded.

"I bring some of his personal effects from Lord Kitru's realm. He is awaiting them."

"Well then you'd better rush off and find him, little man!" the fat one roared and went to refill his mug.

Dalt took a gamble. "I'll find him sooner or later, and I'm sure he'll be glad to learn of all the help I received in carrying out his errand."

This brought a sudden change in mood to the group of troopers. Their laughter died and the fat enlisted man turned and studied Dalt. The gamble had paid off — Ghentren was not known as one of the more easy-going officers.

"He's quartered in the red building over there," he said, pointing. "But he's overseeing wall patrol now. Should be back right after sunset."

Dalt turned to see which building he meant, then walked the other way, leaving an uneasy knot of troopers behind him. Along the way he drew a mental map, picking out easy landmarks for Jon to follow in the darkness. A bell sounded from the direction of the gate — the warning signal for all civilians to leave the fortress.

He quickened his pace.

Jon found waiting for Tlad an agonizing experience. If Tlad was captured by the troopers for being inside the fortress without a pass, he would be dealt with harshly — perhaps lethally — and it would be the tery's fault.

And it had all been a bluff.

If Tlad had held firm and refused to go up into the fortress, Jon knew he would have had no choice but to place the bomb as he’d originally promised. But his intransigent posture, fueled by his genuine craving for revenge, had fooled Tlad.

As he watched the sky darken through the grate, he became increasingly apprehensive. He was about to promise himself that if Tlad returned unharmed he would abandon all plans to kill Ghentren and forget restoring the balance in exchange for Tlad's well-being, when he heard footsteps approaching. Tlad's voice whispered above him.

"Open up! Quick!"

Bursting with relief, Jon strained and pushed the grate upward until Tlad could slip under it, then let it down. For a few heartbeats both huddled in silence in the damp drainage pipe, then returned to the ventilation shaft and descended to the observation corridor.

"You found him?"

Jon’s resolution of a moment before was a quickly-fading memory. Knowledge that the debt incurred by the slaughter of the two beings in the world he had loved most was soon to be settled vibrated through his body, blotting out all other considerations.

Tlad nodded in the dim glow that washed through the wall from the Hole.

"Found him. But I'm warning you — don't do it. You won't be the same man when you come back."

"Tell me where he is." The tery's mind was on a single course now.

With obvious reluctance, Tlad knelt and drew a map in the dust on the floor, showing Jon which way to best travel without being seen.

"He's in a red building here. Just where in that particular building he'll be, I don't know." He looked up and caught the tery's eyes. "It's too risky for you, Jon. Don't go."

"I won't be long."

He turned away from Tlad's troubled face and glided smoothly up the ladder into the growing darkness above. He waited in the storm drain until dusk faded into night, then slipped up into the alley.

A terrible urgency consumed Jon as he moved from shadow to shadow along the narrow, ill-lit streets. He had to find the captain. The end of Ghentren consumed him, obsessed him, inflamed him. Everything would be put right when that man was dead — the sun would move more smoothly across the sky, the breeze would blow cleaner, the world would have brighter days. Ghentren had become a blot on all Creation, a defect that had to be removed.

Then…only then would everything again be as it should be.

He spotted the red building dead ahead, but it lay across a wide courtyard lined with off-duty troopers. Jon had to detour through three back alleys to reach the building from the side. Once there he stole from window to window, listening for a voice, looking for a face when he dared.

He found the captain in a corner room. He was seated on his cot. A woman stood before him.

"Pay me first," she said, giggling as she lifted the hem of her skirt. "That was our agreement."

"I could have you arrested for being within the walls after dark, you little sow," Ghentren said with a playful smile as he reached into the coin pouch at his belt.

"My sisters and I have been an exception to that rule, long before you ever came here."

A table with a lamp and a low wooden stool completed the furnishings of the room. The door to the left was closed and bolted.

Jon was through the window and standing in the middle of the tiny room before either of them noticed him. Ghentren shot to his feet as the girl began to scream but the tery was faster than either of them. With a single motion he shoved the girl back into the corner of the room where she huddled stunned and gasping for breath, then he ripped the captain's reaching arm away from the hilt of his sword. Wrapping the fingers of his right hand around the man's throat, he lifted him clear of the floor and held him there.