Norton, Andre - Brother To Shadows

"Why—take—" He wanted to scream that demand; he had to school himself to shape it in mind, to throttle himself into set control so that the Jat's fear would lessen enough to allow him contact. He certainly had no desire to send the small one back into the locking nonlife which had gripped it on Tssek.

"Power—" It seemed that the creature found it impossible to advance beyond that thought. Zurzal took a hand now.

"What do you have?"

Jofre tensed but the Zacathan had every right to ask that. With the issha oath-bound to him there could be no concealment. But what did he have? He could not honestly say. Now he tried to sort out his thoughts in some form. There might well be the chance that Taynad knew more about this than he did—what would happen if it fell into her hands and she did know how to put it to use? It heightened issha powers—it had kept him alive during his early captivity on the Tssekian ship. He felt warm, good, confident when he held it. But what was it?

"I do not know," he responded with the exact truth. "It is a finding, brought to me by chance, as I once told you. I only know that it sharpens issha powers—it is perhaps a protection of sorts."

"Where did it come from?"

"Out of Qaw-en-itter—a dead Lair—just as I said." Again Jofre gave him the truth. "I nighted there through a mountain storm—and found it by chance—"

He had heard the sharp inhale of breath from Taynad. The names of all the dead Lairs were commonly known and he had doubly damned himself by admitting he had sheltered within such disaster-darkened walls.

Now the Zacathan looked toward the girl. "What is it?"

Jofre awaited her answer eagerly. He believed he could separate false from true if she tried to evade a flat answer.

"It—it seems a Lair stone—or a part of one," she answered in a strange voice, as if she inwardly did doubt the truth of her own words. "It—is Assha—"

Jofre's hand jerked, almost the glowing stone slipped between his fingers. If she spoke the truth, and surely she did as she saw it, then—then what was he? All knew that Assha power was a fortune-gift and that it came after long searching. When a Lair Master died and the stone of that still lived it was the stone itself that selected the next Master—the one it warmed to would be its voice. But that was also a dangerous trial—would-be Assha had been known to be blasted, fire-seared, when they assayed that chance.

This Could only be a fraction of the Lair stone that had been. Perhaps its power was lessened by the lack of size, the fact it was not properly set in place. Yet he could not truthfully deny to himself now that what he felt when he held it was a welcoming, not condemnation of some reckless and overambitious action.

"May I?" Zurzal held out his one hand.

For a moment Jofre hesitated. It was as if the thing clung to him. But he allowed it to slip from his hold into the Zacathan's. The glow which it had shown faded as might fire sinking into ash. Zurzal held it closer to his eyes. His frill lifted and his dark tongue flickered out almost as if he wished to taste what he held.

"Radiation, yes." He turned it around slowly. "Of what kind—who can tell? Part of a Lair stone—"

"Part of a Lair stone," Jofre repeated firmly and glanced again at Taynad. "Did they lay oath on you—against me— to bring that back? The Shagga are jealous of the stones— they cannot use them—only the Masters can—and no Shagga can be assha—they walk another road. I do not claim to be a Master—nor Assha. But, see you!" He plucked the stone away from Zurzal and it glowed again. "Would you?"

Now he deliberately held it out to Taynad. She shook her head. "It is a thing of ill fortune out of a place accursed. I do not know why it should answer to any true issha—"

"Ah, but if you have listened to the Shagga, to the story I myself told you, Shadow Sister, you would know that I am not deemed true issha—my rights have been stripped from me—"

He had spread his palm, the stone resting flat upon it. It was as if the heart of its dull red there held a sturdy core of fire—not blazing as it had when the Jat laid paw on it, but alive as it had not been in the Zacathan's hold.

"What task have they laid on you?" Jofre swept swiftly back to his original demand. "My death—the taking of this? And this little one—Yan is your tool?"

"No!" She shook her head and that tightly braided hair loosened somewhat. "I did not set Yan on you this night! It tried to tell me that you have some power; I think it wished to prove it to me. Yes, the Shagga would hunt you down. They have out their nets." She raised one hand and pulled at the fore of her braid loop, freeing the twigs. "They have given orders—"

Jofre stepped back a pace. He crooked his finger and Yan obeyed. Into the Jat's forepaws he dropped the stone.

"I take no advantage," he said. "What would you? Knives by choice?"

It had come so suddenly—though, yes, he had had his suspicions of her. But somehow he had never guessed that it would end in blade against blade. They were probably evenly matched enough—since they must keep to the single weapon agreed upon—and she was issha-trained. Also the knife was the first weapon for the Sisters, even as the sword or spear might be for the Brothers.

"Stop!" Zurzal was between them. "You are oathed to me," he added sharply to Jofre. "While that oath holds you are not allowed to seek a private quarrel. Is that not part of the oathing?"

"For issha—yes," Jofre returned slowly. "But now it is said I am not issha—otherwise the Sister would not take mission against me."

"I refuse to accept such a quibble," Zurzal hissed. His frill, flushing darkly, was a fan behind his head. "You are my oathed. And you," he looked now to Taynad, "I did not oath you but you accepted a bargain—were you already then playing another game? Had you taken oath to bring down this man?"

Slowly the girl shook her head. "No, Learned One, when I said I would come with you they had not sent any message to me. It was only afterward—"

"I have heard much of issha honor on Asborgan," Zurzal continued. "No, I did not formally oath you to my service, Taynad. But you accepted my offer freely. Does one need a ritual to keep full faith?"

Jofre saw her tongue tip show between her set lips. The heavy lids nearly veiled her eyes and for a moment she was silent as one who weighs one matter against another.

"Learned One, what I accepted I shall keep to for as long as this venture lasts—"

Jofre's hand moved away from the hilt of his knife. So until another day this would go unsettled. But he also knew well that issha word was unbending; she would hold only to a truce and that for the time the Zacathan would set.

"We had better settle down," Zurzal said, "before some of our companions grow interested and come to see what we are doing. I think none of us would want them to know about that." And he pointed to what blazed brightly in the Jat's hold. Swiftly Jofre recovered his treasure and tucked it away into hiding.

"I take the watch," he said, knowing that he could not sleep now, not until he had thought, weighed, and decided all he could about the days ahead.

HOWEVER, MORNING LIGHT FOUND HIM WITH NO TRUE decision. What he could foresee was only what concerned his own actions; he could not know what Taynad might think or do. Realizing this, Jofre forced the whole matter to the back of his mind. What lay before them now was another kind of action. He had mistrusted this ragged land from the start and to work their way across it might well be beyond what any living thing—without wings—could do.