Jo Clayton - Shadowkill

Her face filling the center cell, Tasylyn twitched her scarred ear. “Got ’em all, they couldn’t light a match.”

Anyagan the Szajes showed her teeth. “Good work, cousin.”

“You want us to go in? Wouldn’t take us ten minutes to fetch ours out.”

“Down, kit. We want ours alive, not dead. We’ll take the long road first. Ta.” She blanked the hexa, swung to face Miralys. “You ready, Toerfeles?”

Miralys settled into the co-seat. “Get them.”

The sweaty, furious face of a man filled the central hexa. His thick gold hair straggled about his ears; his eye paint was smudged and his lip rouge rolled into crumbs at the corner of his mouth, a mouth working in a futile frenzy, futile because the sound was off.

Anyagyn sniffed, the small sound heavy with distaste. “You want to hear that, Toerfeles?”

“No. Can that hear me?”

“When you want.”

“Do it.”

“Done.”

The man blinked and started yelling more furiously, waving his arms, hands appearing and vanishing as they swung in and out of the viewcone.

Miralys dug her claws into the padding on the chairarms. “Shut your mouth, fool, listen to me.” Her ears twitched, her lips curled up and back in the Dyslaera threat grin.

There was a flicker of fear in the man’s eyes, understanding immediately suppressed. His face smoothed out, acquired a sudden patina of grooming. He smiled, bowed his head, spoke briefly, then waited.

“I am Miralys vey Voallts tol Daravazhalts, Toerfeles of Voallts Korlach. You have blood kin of mine prisoner in that abomination of yours. I want them, without delay and intact.” She turned to Anyagyn. “Let me hear that.”

The man smoothed nervous fingers over his hair, pressing it into a semblance of order. “What are you talking about, Toerfeles?” His voice was pleasantly rough, more interesting and attractive than his surgically enhanced face. “There are no Dyslaera here. Someone’s been lying to you.”

“Who are you? Would you know?”

“I am Pinjaro da Tinggal.” He was almost purring now that he knew what he dealt with, sure of his ability to defuse the situation. “I am Pengurra of this House. I know what happens here.”

Miralys’ ears went back against her skull. “Anyagyn Szajes, do it.”

“Hannys, Sugnam, Tasylyn. Go.”

Three Capture Landers left the disk, swooped down and blew away a section of Black House, went spiraling back to their places. A breath and a half and the attack was over.

Tinggal yelped and vanished from the screen.

He reappeared a moment later. “There were people in those suites. Important people. You killed them.”

Miralys snorted. “Turn about, worm. How many dead…” She broke off. “That doesn’t matter. You have ten minutes. After that we will remove another sector and another, one every ten minutes.”

He started to speak, then snapped his mouth shut and vanished once again.

Miralys turned to Anyagyn, ears up and quivering. Anyagyn wiggled her nose. “They can’t hear for the moment.”

“Any chance the worm can come up with a defense?”

“If Digby’s right, no.”

“Hmm. Get Hannys.”

“You sure? Her Mum raised crazy kits.”

“We need craziness right now.”

A side hexa pulsed awake. Hannys was a red Dyslaerin with bright yellow eyes and a round face. Her eyes sparkled and her lips were curled in a friendly grin, teeth carefully covered. “Toerfeles,” she said. “Can we bite ’em? Hey-hey, can we do it?”

“Maybe, cousin. I want you ready go in and snatch ours if the worm down there starts trying to argue with me.”

“Forget him. Let’s do it.”

“Cool your blood, cousin, you don’t move till I give the word, you hear?”

“Aaah.”

“Not a whisker, or I’ll snatch you naked and feed you to the nearest Ri-tors.”

Tinggal slid back into view. “I must apologize, Toerfeles,” he said easily, with a quick charming smile to underline what he intended to be a rueful sincerity. “We have two young guests who appear to be Dyslaera. It seems one of my subordinates was overzealous in his attempts to please our clients and acted without authorization. Be sure he will be dealt with. This will not occur again.

“Only two?”

“If you doubt my word, Toerfeles, ask them yourself.” He stepped aside.

Azram and Kinefray moved into the viewcone; they were thin and strained, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

Miralys sucked in a breath, then said quietly, “Azoe, Azram, Kinefray.”

Kinefray stared down at his feet; Azram answered her. “Azoisha, Toerfeles.” There was a touch of mischief in his reddened eyes.

“Worm says there’s only the two of you.”

Azram’s ears crinkled forward, his eyes glazed over, spilled tears despite his effort to stay calm. “True,” he managed. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his fist. “Rest ’re dead. ’Cept the Ciocan,” he added hastily. “That other lot kept him.” He looked to one side, nodded, then he and Kinefray shifted out of sight and Tinggal was back.

“As you hear, Toerfeles.”

“As I do see, slime. You’re not thinking nonsense like hostages, are you?”

“Certainly not, Toerfeles. Purely as a matter of curiosity though, say we were?”

“We take our own by force, then Black House and everything in it will be slagged to bedrock.”

“And if there is no further fuss?”

“We collect ours and leave. My word on it.”

“And what is your word worth?”

“More than anything you’ve got within your walls.”

“Very well. We will send the young Dyslaera out immediately. The main entrance. There is sufficient room in the garden there for one of your landers to alight.”

Miralys watched tensely as the Hannys’ lander touched down, collected Azram and Kinefray, zipped up, and leapt off for the circling disk of landers.

As soon as Hannys was in place, the landers swirled up in a grand helix, reached the transports, and were swallowed by them.

The transports went arcing onward, going deeper into the dark.

Mimishay

Savant 4: (Answering the com) The Grand Chom is elsewhere at the moment. I speak for the Council. What is the problem?

Tinggal: Problem? I’ll tell you the problem. We’ve got a fleet of Dyslaera hanging over us. Someone talked. They know about the subjects you passed to us.

Savant 4: Fleet?

Tinggal: (speaking with a growing impatience) Three armed transports and I didn’t bother to count the landers. Armed! Better than a lot of governments. Took out our defenses before they bothered to say a word. Knew just where to hit, too. Someone talked. Yes, someone talked. Burned down four suites, killed everyone inside and what we’re going to tell their families I don’t know.

Savant 4: And?

Tinggal: (with obvious satisfaction) Better look to your own defenses. The Toerfeles has given us ten minutes to produce her kin and turn them over. We’ll do that, we’ve got no choice. Which means less than half an hour from now she’s on her way to you.

Savant 4: Ward Master, I want that Dyslaera brought to the Question Chamber. (His voice took on a shrill note despite the distorter he was wearing.) I want him there so fast the air smokes around him. You hear?

Ward Master: Yes, Savant. Anything special you want, tools, personnel, whatever?

Savant 4: Prepare for full hostile Probe.

Ward Master: The Chom…

Savant 4: The Chom isn’t here, he’s not going to be here any time soon. This is an emergency, fool, the Dyslaera are on their way here now.