Timothy Zahn - Conquerors' Legacy

"I obey," Thrr't-rokik said automatically, and flicked back along his anchorline. One of the Human-Conquerors was still sitting on the couch, while the other was still working on the door. The third, though, was now walking slowly along one wall, hands and eyes systematically examining a horizontal crack that ran around the entire room. As unobtrusively as possible, Thrr't-rokik completed the checks Nzz-oonaz had asked for, then flicked back to the ship.

Another Elder was in the room with Nzz-oonaz when he returned, and a second was just leaving. "I've ordered the warriors put on full alert," Nzz-oonaz told Thrr't-rokik. "What did you find?"

"It does appear to be a lock," Thrr't-rokik said, "The Human-Conquerors also don't seem to be armed, though two of them are wearing what seem to be holsters that would accommodate small hand weapons."

"That would fit if they were Mrach prisoners," the Elder rumbled thoughtfully. "Warriors merely playing a role, on the other side, would more likely retain their weapons."

"Unless their warriors behave differently than ours would," Nzz-oonaz said. "No, that's wrong. Pheylan Cavanagh was a warrior, and he was carrying a small hand weapon when he was captured."

"Pheylan Cavanagh?" Thrr't-rokik murmured, half to himself, as the name jogged his memory.

"You have something?" Nzz-oonaz asked.

"It may mean nothing," Thrr't-rokik said slowly, "but I heard one of the Human-Conqueror prisoners call one of the others Cavanagh. Could he be related to Pheylan Cavanagh?"

"It's possible," Nzz-oonaz said, frowning. "Cavanagh would be the family name, and they frequently use those alone as identification." He gestured to the other Elder. "Open a pathway to Thrr-gilag on Dorcas. Maybe he knows more about Pheylan Cavanagh's family."

"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.

"I didn't mean for you to go to this much trouble," Thrr't-rokik said, feeling more than a little awkward.

"It's no trouble," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "Actually, you've got me curious now, too."

Thrr't-rokik grimaced. "I suppose I should also say that I'm not trying to damage any of the diplomatic work you've been doing here. There may be some completely innocent explanation for why the Mrachanis haven't told you about those prisoners."

"Trust me, Thrr't-rokik," Nzz-oonaz said grimly. "To some of us the Mrachanis are looking less and less innocent all the time."

The Elder flicked back. "I'm sorry, Searcher Nzz-oonaz, but normal communications with the ground-warrior beachhead on Dorcas have been suspended. Only pathways going through specifically designated Elders are being allowed."

"What designated Elders?" Nzz-oonaz demanded. "Who ordered this?"

"I don't know," the Elder said. "But I noticed that both of the allowed Elders carry Dhaa'rr-clan names. And the Elder I talked with hinted the order had come down from the Speaker for Dhaa'rr himself."

Thrr't-rokik looked at Nzz-oonaz, found the other looking back at him. "I don't like this, Thrr't-rokik," the young searcher said quietly. "Not at all."

"Perhaps you should speak to the Overclan Prime," Thrr't-rokik suggested, trying to suppress his own apprehension. "He'll know what's going on."

"Maybe," Nzz-oonaz countered. "The problem is that all our direct communication pathways to Warrior Command and the Overclan Prime are under the accuracy-control monitoring of Dhaa'rr Elders."

"I object to your inferences, Searcher Nzz-oonaz," the other Elder said stiffly. "My communicators are all former warriors themselves, completely professional in the performance of their duties. They would not allow clan politics to interfere."

"I'm sure that under most circumstances that would be true," Nzz-oonaz said. "But I'm beginning to wonder whether the circumstances here are normal anymore. Can you guarantee—really and thoroughly guarantee—that none of the Dhaa'rr Elders aboard the Closed Mouth would pass the content of a private conversation to Speaker Cvv-panav? Especially if the Speaker was the target of that conversation?"

The Elder flicked his tongue. "No," he conceded. "I cannot positively guarantee that."

Nzz-oonaz looked at Thrr't-rokik, the frustration in his expression suddenly turned to something else. "Wait a beat. Thrr't-rokik, where's your fsss?"

"You mean my cutting?" Thrr't-rokik asked cautiously.

"No, your main fsss. Is it anywhere near Unity City?"

"Not really," Thrr't-rokik said. "It's at the Thrr-family shrine near Cliffside Dales, about forty-three hundred thoustrides away."

Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue. "No more than a couple of tentharcs' flight away, though. This could work. Is there anyone there you can trust? I mean really trust."

"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said. "Thrr-tulkoj. He was chief protector for the shrine, and a close personal friend of Thrr-gilag's. I've already trusted him with my family's honor, and he hasn't failed me."

Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue again. "We'll have to risk it. Go tell him to get to somewhere where he can't be easily overheard. As soon as he's in position, come back so I can talk to him. Have you ever done communicator work before?"

"Not really," Thrr't-rokik said.

"You'll pick it up," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "Get going."

"It's really quite simple," the taller of the two Zhirrzh said, his voice quiet and almost courteous. "We've been authorized by the Overclan Seating to search for evidence of criminal activity here. Until that search has been completed, we're in command on Dorcas. You can either accept that and cooperate, or you can join Commander Thrr-mezaz in detention inside the Human-Conqueror transport."

"Most considerate of them to provide it for us," the second Zhirrzh added. He was over in the corner, contemplating the thick-walled metal safe where Prr't-zevisti's fsss cutting had been hidden barely a tentharc ago. "A solid metal aircraft means we can isolate him from the Elders, too."

"Your authorization makes no mention of locking him away," Thrr-gilag argued, trying hard to keep his tail calm and knowing full well he wasn't succeeding.

"Our authorization allows us to do our job any way we see fit," the taller Zhirrzh said, his voice hardening. "We see Commander Thrr-mezaz as a troublemaker, and he'll remain out of communication until we've found what we're looking for."

Not if they found it; when they found it. They knew about the cutting, all right. "But it's dangerous," Thrr-gilag protested. "He's also isolated from his fsss in there. If the Humans launch another attack, he could die."

"That's a danger, all right," the taller Zhirrzh nodded. "Let's hope we find what we're looking for quickly."

An Elder appeared. "We've finished searching the transport," he reported. "They haven't found"—he glanced at Thrr-gilag—"anything unusual."

"As expected," the taller Zhirrzh said equably. "Shift those Elders to a search of the ground beneath the route the transport came in on. They may have thrown it outside when they saw our ship."

The Elder grimaced—highly offended, no doubt, by the suggestion that a fsss cutting might have been treated with such horrendous disrespect. "I obey," he growled, and vanished.

"Or are we wasting our time?" the second Zhirrzh suggested, eyeing Thrr-gilag. "Have you hidden it somewhere out of the Elders' range?"

"At the Human-Conqueror stronghold, for instance?" the other put in. "Was that the real reason you went there?"

"I went there because the new prisoner needs a healer," Thrr-gilag said, forcing some firmness into his voice. They were drifting uncomfortably close to the truth here. "He needs treatment, and I need him alive if I'm to complete my studies. You've searched the healer; can't you now let her treat him?"