Chtilian rubbed his aching temples and tried again to make sense of the words coming out of the box. This "English" was difficult, and the Devian translations were in such a strange dialect he could barely make them out. Still, the Lady had asked him to learn it and so he applied himself earnestly to the task. To ignore the request of a crystalwitch, no matter how courteously worded, was to invite more trouble than a slave could handle. Fortunately, Danner seemed pleased with his progress. His exact words had been -- Cthilian struggled to form the thoughts in English -- "fuckin' incredible."
His praise was one of the few bright points of this strange exile. The iri'dan's opinion was almost as important to Cthilian as the Lady's.
"Cthili!"
The door burst open and Djan raced in, pale hair flying. His eyes sparkled as he flung himself against Cthilian and pushed something into the student's hands. Djan was having little trouble adjusting to the danship. He found it all very exciting.
"What is this, little lord?"
Djan's own progress in English was considerable. He had a child's facility for it, and was already forming whole sentences.
"A toy truck!" The child took it back and rolled it across the table, cackling with delight when it fell off. "Danner gave it to me!"
"English, little lord. We must speak English." Cthilian bent and retrieved the toy before it rolled away. "And the iri'dan is very kind."
"The iri'dan is just following orders."
Cthilian was on his feet at once. The tall human grinned and shook his head. Hair like liquid night rippled across his shoulders. Leaning negligently against the door frame, he drawled: "So, Cthilian - what's that on your wrist?"
"There are -- is -- nothing on my wrist, iri'd -- Danner."
"Uh-huh. And around your neck?"
Cthilian reddened and sat. Danner's grin widened.
"What is an iri'dan anyway? The Dev word for blackstone?"
"Not precisely. We are both ir'dan." Cthilian stressed the first syllable carefully. "But only you are iri'dan -- bound to the Lady."
"Bound? Me?" Inexplicably, Danner seemed angry.
"It is a high honor for ir'dan." Cthilian floundered, knocked off balance by the sudden idea that here, in this strange place, things might be that different. "You do not agree?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"You are free," Cthilian pointed out reasonably. "You command men. People listen to you. She listens to you. Are you not honored by these things?"
The iri'dan frowned, suddenly thoughtful. He looked as if he would speak, but a beeping from his pocket phone drew his attention. No sooner had he plucked it out when the air filled with horrible shrieking. Cthilian's heart nearly jumped from his mouth. Djan, truck clutched to his chest, threw himself against the alorin's legs.
"Alarms!" shouted Danner, unmoved. "The door to your world just opened again. I've got to go."
"No!"
Danner paused at the door. His eyes narrowed.
"The Sher'dana, Benara. She may be waiting!"
"Who?"
Cthilian tried to find the translation. "Queen. A dana, like the Lady Palas, only very old and very, very powerful!"
"You're being chased by a queen?" Danner shook his head. "Listen. We'll talk about this when I get back, OK? It's about time you leveled with us, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, sir -- Danner."
"Good. Stay here, out of the way. Understand?"
Cthilian nodded and the iri'dan was gone, running down the crowded corridor. The young alorin returned to his chair and started rewinding the language tape. The alarms finally stopped, but his heart continued to pound, and the fear he had been ignoring for two days came rushing back.
Everyone in this strange world had been more than kind. The Lady had delayed the inevitable interrogation to allow him time to recover from his wounds and his blind grief. There was food, freely given and of good quality. He and Djan wore new clothing. They had been assigned comfortable quarters. When people spoke to him, even those of high rank, they spoke with courtesy. Most wonderful of all, Danner had ordered the doctors to remove Raynig's ownership marks -- all of them -- and threw them away. Cthilian looked at his wrists and was transfixed by the sight of bare flesh, the faint scars already gone.
Yet each moment he and Djan stayed here, the danger to his hosts grew. In Devia, everyone must now know that the Sil iri'dan was missing; perhaps moved closer to civil war. The time had come to lay all he knew before the Lady. That she was of the High Danae, he understood by the strength of her presence. But she was not Dev, and the power that surrounded her was nebulous, less easily seen or quantified by his ir'dan's inner eye.
"Hello?"
Cthilian started, got to his feet, reflex winning out again.
A slender young man stood in the doorway, a quizzical smile on his face. He was dressed oddly, even for a human, and his red-gold curls looked as if they had been tossed about by a stiff wind. Tucked under his arm was a large, red crystal.
"Sorry to intrude, but I'm looking for Danner Renwolf, or maybe Captain McAllister. Someone told me Danner might be here." He broke off and looked more closely at Cthilian. "Are you Devian?"
Cthilian's heart missed a beat. "Yes, sir."
There were those on the ship who did not much care for his people. Danner had warned him not to stray too far from their quarters, but this man did not look censorious, only interested.
"Really? Were you on the ship? Oh, I'm sorry. I'm the Doctor. May I come in?"
Cthilian was confronted by a friendly, outstretched hand -- human greeting ritual. Then, overwhelmed by the stranger's restless, good-natured energy, he pointed mutely to a chair. Djan risked leaving the protection of Cthilian's legs and fixed the newcomer with open curiosity.
"I'm Cthilian, and this is Djan. We came through the . . . " he struggled, "the Tee Dee Eff."
"Danner found us," Djan added helpfully.
The Doctor tilted a smile at the boy and agreed: "He's very clever, Danner is. How did he find you?"
"He climbed over the rocks. Cthili was sick. My uncle was chasing us with dogs. He pushed my momma off the tower. She's in heaven now. We thought this was heaven, but Cthili says it isn't."
The Doctor's jaw sagged at these artless confidences. Cthilian was shocked back into speechlessness. Djan had said not a word to anyone, even himself. That the boy knew any of this left him shaken.
"That's quite a story, young man. Is this your papa?"
Djan giggled. "No, silly. My papa is a great lord!"
Green eyes lifted to Cthilian's face. "Is this true?"
"Yes, sir."
The man regarded him thoughtfully. "You both came through this TDF alone?"
"Yes, sir. That's where Danner had gone There has been another one."
"I thought the materialization was a little rough." The Doctor stood up, carefully retrieving the crystal. Djan, who had been sneaking curious fingers toward it, quickly withdrew his hand and looked innocent. Grinning, the Doctor made a grab for his truck. The boy giggled and held it behind his back.
Someone was coming, and coming fast. The Doctor heard it, too. He straightened, hugging the crystal defensively, and turned as the door burst open. One of the Lady's men, a Horde Rider, stood outside, breathless and unsmiling.
"Captain McAllister wants you at the protoship now, Dev!"
Then the man saw the Doctor. "Who are you? Do you have clearance to be in the high security section?"
"I'm afraid not," the Doctor confessed. "You'd better take me to Captain McAllister immediately."
A much subdued Djan stayed close to Cthilian as they were hustled from the safety of their rooms into the huge, human-crowded danship. There were a lot of men in uniforms gathered around the transmat as they approached. Cthilian recognized Consortium security, sinister in their black leather, among the green and brown of the Lady's Riders. One man, the Lady's personal Protector, was arguing with a black-clad soldier as Cthilian and his companions reached the platform.
"Nelson! Miles Nelson!" cried the Doctor unexpectedly.
The tall, forbidding officer turned and his mouth dropped. Around the Protector, the Consortium men scowled. "Doctor! What the hell? No one told me you were coming!"
"No one knew. Where's Palas?"
"At the event. Something's gone wrong. We haven't got com-link to the protoship because the TDF blows the frequencies all to hell and whatever's going on, she's not communicating. I'm getting ready to go in."
"I'll come."
"Good. And I want the Dev, too. It's his world on the other side. He may have some information."
"Not the boy," objected the Doctor. "There's no reason to take him into this situation!"
"Martin!"
A ruddy faced Rider loped over.
"Take the kid back to his quarters and keep an eye on 'im."
"Sure. Hey, kid? You like baseball?"
Cthilian bit his lip, watching Djan trailing reluctantly after the Rider, hugging his truck.
"Martin's got six kids of his own," Nelson said, seeing his face. "The brat'll be OK."
There was not much to be done about it. Soldiers were everywhere, hemming them in. Together, he and the Doctor stepped up onto the transmat.
The familiarity of the protoship hit Cthilian hard as the transmat dumped them at their destination. This place was of his world, the carving familiar, the shape of the passageways comfortably predictable. Never mind that until a few days earlier, the Exile had all been myth. There was shouting somewhere up ahead and the high, deadly whine of the las-rod. Cthilian's heart was in his mouth.
"Move," barked Nelson.
With the increasing sense of things racing out of control, Cthilian hurried alongside the Doctor toward the noise and light.
"It's closing!" shouted the Doctor suddenly, and sprinted ahead.
Nelson cursed and ran after the man, jerking Cthilian along with him. They rounded a corner and skidded to a stop. Nelson shouted, pushing the young Dev to one side. Las-fire impacted against the wall just over their heads. Cthilian had a brief, bewildering view of mountains and sky and Protectors -- Dev Protectors! There was a vivid flash, a dull, subsonic thud, and the corrider was gone.
Picking himself up, Cthilian saw a blank wall ten feet ahead and a number of Horde Riders. Among them was the Lady, bloody streak across her cheek, fiery hair falling into her eyes. She was very pale. Stomach sinking, Cthilian looked past her, but there was no sign of Danner.
"Doctor!"
For a moment, her face was unguarded. The Dev caught his breath at what he saw there. Then she was High dana again, cool, self-possessed -- and angry.
"What happened?" the Doctor demanded, bypassing expected courtesies.
"That's what I'd like to know." She looked over his shoulder at Cthilian and her face darkened. "Some sort of Dev military unit was waiting out there. Danner was on point again -- as fucking usual, the idiot -- when they struck. We lost a man, got most of the others back all right."
"Danner?" Cthilian asked.
"Missing," she replied shortly. "And now, Dev, I think it's time we had a little talk."
* * *
The first blast killed Charley, but the others made it back through before the TDF closed. Danner, his ears ringing, made sure of that before allowing himself to collapse face first in the sharp-edged grass. Shadows fell over him; the men in the dark blue uniforms.
Hands in his hair, pulling him up. Something cold against his neck. There was a moment of intense disorientation, then his muscles contracted with such agonizing violence that for a moment, he could not breathe. When the pain passed, however, he could move again.
They were shouting at him, but he did not understand a word of it. A blow came out of nowhere and knocked him into someone's unwelcoming arms. A clear, feminine voice rang above the buzzing in his ears and, abruptly, he was standing on his own again. Wiping blood from his mouth, the blackstone looked up as the circle of indigo parted to admit a woman astride something resembling a large, short-antlered deer.
She was pretty, plump and graceful. What caught his interest, however, was the design tattooed in a narrow band across her forehead. Directly between her eyes, the design became more elaborate, framing what appeared to be a white diamond. His heart took a sudden, precipitous dive. Biocrystal.
She was young -- his mind ticked on under
the fear - her crystal still had only a few facets. Was she an ordinary
dana, or something on the level of his own lovely ladies? The girl
met his open curiosity with disbelief at first, then growing annoyance.
In an imperious voice, she demanded something of him. Danner
had been sitting in on Cthilian's English
lessons. He had picked up a bit of Devish in the process, enough
to recognize the term for 'danger' in there somewhere.
"Hey. Sorry. I'm not from around here."
He smiled placatingly at the girl, which seemed only to offend her further. She said something in a waspish voice and at once, a young man appeared beside her, taking the reins of her beast. For all his fine clothing, the Norm had the same on-the-edge look as Cthilian, and wore elaborately enameled shackles at his wrists, throat and ankles.
Who the hell were these jokers? He and Palas had been damned stupid not to get information out of Cthilian immediately Trying not to be obvious, Danner looked around. Charley's corpse lay nearby, a silent reproach. Danner looked away, throat constricting.
The dana dismounted and approached, one of her men falling in behind her. She stopped directly in front of the blackstone while her escort strode past to stand at his back. Apprehension prickled along Danner's spine. He sensed movement behind him, bent and turned, driving his elbow into the guard's midriff. The man gasped and doubled over. Still turning, Danner brought the edge of his hand down on the exposed neck. The snap of shattering vertebrae was all but inaudible beneath the singing wind, but she heard it. Her mouth opened, and she shrieked faintly as the guard pitched lifelessly to the grass. All Danner needed was that instant of distraction. In that moment he had her, neck trapped in the crook of his arm, a deft twist away from a similar fate.
Her other guards started forward angrily, raising their weapons - pikes and small tubes with glowing ends. He tightened his arm and she choked something that sent them stumbling back.
Danner's resistance was, of course, a waste of time and effort. The next moment, she had recovered from her surprise and he was lying flat on his back, looking up into a pale, pink sky, breath squeezed from his lungs and black spots before his eyes. This time, when they brought him up, they locked his wrists in heavy manacles behind his back. Whatever nerve stimulant they used the first time was injected again. After the cramping eased, he tried to get to his feet, a nasty taste on the back of his tongue. The guards slammed him back to his knees. One of them slid a noose of braided leather thongs around his neck and pulled it tight.
Eyes like ice chips, the dana took his head in her hands. Belatedly, the blackstone flung all his strength into his mental shields. Long hours of sparring with Palas paid off and he held her back, although just barely.
There was a sharp crack of pain and his concentration faltered. For a fraction of eternity, she was with him in his own mind, seeing what she would. Terror and fury gave him the strength to fling her out. Licking blood from his lips, he tried again to get to his feet, but the man holding his leash pulled him back hard. When Danner could see straight again, she was leaning heavily on the arm of her slave, pale, breathless from the effort. Danner thought uneasily about Devian relapse.
"Do you understand me now, iri'dan?"
There were new twists in his thoughts. Even his quick response had not been enough to keep her from implanting. Her name was there among the alien entries - Shaela of the High Clan Mistal. He looked away bitterly and was given another warning jerk.
"Who are you? What are you doing on the sacred mountain? Where is the Sil iri'dan?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." His tongue twisted awkwardly around sounds his mind knew, but his mouth did not.
"It is customary to address High Danae as Lady."
Danner said nothing, returning her irritation with blank indifference. She hit him again. They stopped talking to him after that. The dana called imperiously for her "asha" and the slave quickly reappeared, leading the deer-horse. Danner was hustled up and through the surrounding wall of blue-clad bodies. There were more of the riding beasts gathered in a low spot along the cliff. Banners fluttered from pikes driven into the ground beside them. Danner's leash was looped through the saddle ring of an asha as its rider mounted. The blackstone braced himself for more abuse, but the guard -- aside from giving him a speculative glance -- ignored him.
They had always acknowledged the danger of ambush. Someone had been hunting Cthilian and the kid. But energy weapons? Jesus Christ! Cthilian was mystified by a tape recorder while his folk had blasters?
The animal was nudged forward, yanking the leash and pulling Danner with it. Keeping his balance was going to take all his attention as the entire troop started moving, away from the temple and the only way back to reality.
The blue-clad soldiers went slowly, keeping within sight of the cliff's edge. They were a disciplined bunch, speaking little, keeping to a tight formation. He was reminded of the Consortium's gestapo, and the comparison did nothing to ease his mind.
It was late afternoon in Devia. The sun was beginning to slide over the peaks that formed the western horizon. Already, long shadows stretched across the plateau. Glimpses of the river far below showed it in early twilight, its rainbow canopy extinguished. The wind had changed direction, as well, blowing down from the mountains, picking up speed and strength. Grateful for his leather jacket, Danner hunched his shoulders against it and kept grimly on.
The dana was watching him covertly. Whatever she had expected to find at the temple, he was not it. He sensed her bewildered, uneasy gaze on him whenever he looked away. There were a couple more attempts to breach his shields, but he held her off easily. She was not a particularly powerful dana, but she sure as hell had the power to make his life miserable.
The shadows lengthened and the bite in the wind grew sharper. The ashas lowered their heads, stolidly shaking stunted antlers as it raced unopposed across the open plateau. On they rode as the afternoon darkened, the pink sky deepening to rose, then mauve. Danner's shoulders began to ache and his neck burned where the leather was chafing it raw.
Ahead, twin pillars of stone reared up along the brink of the precipice. As they approached, Danner saw that these were not natural formations but very old, very worn columns covered with a fine landscape of carving -- sentinels marking the top of a road that descended steeply toward the distant river. Danner was forced to mind his balance or go tumbling.
The squad passed into darkness as the cliff's shadow swallowed them. Along the orderly line of riders lanterns appeared. Far to the east, Danner saw four fine, fingernail moons rising.
It was another half-hour to the base of the cliff. By now, the blackstone was stumbling with weariness. His neck and arms had become separate miseries taking more of his attention. He was exhausted with the effort of keeping his mind closed to the infrequent attempts of the dana. When the riders stopped again, he sank immediately to his haunches and huddled in the shelter of the beasts around him.
They had reached the river. A pier jutted into the swift current, torches set along it. Through the shifting legs of the ashas, he saw dancing yellow light reflected across the water. There were long boats tied along the pier, and more soldiers in them.
His guard dismounted. "On your feet, iri'dan!"
A tug on his raw neck sent him lurching to his feet, swearing. The soldier pulled him through the press of men and animals to the river bank. The dana's slave was settling a fur-edged cloak around her slim shoulders.
"You would do well to open your mind now," Shaela warned. "In a few minutes you'll face the Lady Ilyava."
There was an expectation that this should upset him. He shrugged. "I'll think about it."
"And don't think your impertinence will go unpunished, iri'dan," she said coldly. "Arn! Crantan!"
Two more soldiers grabbed him and hustled him away from her, out onto the pier and into one of the boats. Four more men climbed in around him. Taking no chances with his desperate self, it seemed.
One by one, the boats slid out into the stream. Danner had expected oars, but they appeared to move under their own power. At the helm, a soldier directed its movements by passing his hand back and forth over a light set into the hull beside him.
The dana was in the craft behind them as they skimmed across the water toward the opposite shore. Another pier came up around the bend, torchlit like the first. More men waited there to haul Danner up and out, hustle him along the planking into a camp set up along the riverbank. He heard dogs barking, smelled smoke and stable.
His captors kept him moving through the tents, arriving at one larger and more luxurious than the others. It was heavily guarded, and the rest of the camp was held back by a fence of post and chain. Swaying with weariness, Danner waited as one of the men ducked through the door, returning a moment later.
"Take him in."
After the bite of the night wind, the tent's interior was blissfully warm. A gently luminescent globe hung from the roof, exuding warmth and subtle, spicy incense. The furnishings were exquisite, yet practical. Tent poles were carved to resemble saplings, tapestries of unusual design held the warmth inside.
There were several people within. Standing in the center of the tent was a slight, handsome man. He wore the indigo of the Dev guards, and a long, pale braid that fell carelessly across one shoulder. Further back, beyond the globe's illumination were two more danae. Their tattooed faces were expressionless.
A hard shove between his shoulders sent Danner to the thick carpets. Lady Mistal stopped just inside the door, eyes going immediately to the other two. She said nothing, nor did they, but from the expressions that came and went on their faces, he knew they were talking and talking hard. The small man cleared his throat delicately.
"Lady Mistal? Captain Toric? An interesting afternoon, I gather? Who is this ir'dan?"
The unheard conversation broke off.
"Unknown, milord Ksirin," she replied. "But he has Protector skills."
"An ir'dan?" The cultured voice was politely disbelieving.
"There is no doubt, sir." Captain Toric's voice quivered with outrage. "He killed one of my men and even attempted the life of Lady Mistal!"
The officer lifted a carefully plucked brow. "His hair, his dress...I've never heard of any such Protector sects -- not even among the heretics in the North."
"There are many questions to answer, Ksirin, but one thing we know for certain. He was taken where the Sil iri'dan was last seen, and there were armed men with him."
"Intriguing, milady. You've found nothing in his mind?"
"He has been trained to resist." This came out resentfully.
Danner winked at her and a mottled flush crept up her neck.
"An iri'dan trained to shut out the danae! And trained as a Protector? He becomes more fascinating by the moment."
There was something unsettling about this man. Danner's flesh crawled at the look in Ksirin's eyes as they rested on him.
"Perhaps," Ksirin said silkily, "I should interrogate him."
There was a short burst of laughter from Lady Mistal. At the back of the tent one of the other danae said with some distaste: "Not this one, Lord Ksirin. First we find out what he knows about the child, then he is sent to Sidhain'tan. We have been in contact with the Sher'dana on this matter. He is no ordinary prisoner."
"I see that quite clearly, milady Ilvaya."
Lord Ksirin, still smiling, seized the blackstone's chin, lifting it. With a gentle touch, he traced the line of Danner's jaw.
"What a lovely, exotic creature. Don't damage him too much, my dear."
He left, softly laughing, leaving only Danner and the three women. The human was not reassured.
From the shadows stepped the dana who had sent Ksirin packing. Her crystal was multi-faceted, but her face was as clear and unlined as Lady Mistal's. They were rolling out the big guns.
"You will save yourself a great deal of distress, ir'dan, to simply tell us what we need to know. Where is the Sil iri'dan?"
"Never heard of it. Sorry."
"Not as sorry as you will be, fool."
It was all he could do not to cringe as she laid a hand on his head. The first touch against his mind was tentative. He held it back easily. Clenching bound fists, Danner braced himself for the onslaught as her fingers tightened in his hair.
It came fast and hard, slamming against his shields with the force of an explosion. His vision shattered. He hung on grimly, refusing to be distracted by the growing discomfort. Failure meant more deaths. Surrender was not just personal defeat, it was betraying his friends and his world. Pain was an old friend, familiar. He could endure it.
With a hiss, she was gone. Rigid muscles spasmed and Danner could think again. Surprised, feeling like he'd been hit by a tank, he looked up. If this was the best they could muster, maybe he should just answer their damn questions. Palas and Anna would roll over these two like they were bumps in the road. Her expression almost made the ordeal worthwhile. The third dana glided silently to Ilyava's side and slid a hand under the other dana's arm.
"Iri'dan!" spat Ilyava, surprised and angry. "What Clan claims you?"
"The Clan McAllister," he said, straight-faced.
"There is no such Clan!" She shook off the solicitous hands. "Perhaps I will allow Ksirin to question you, after all He did seem more than eager for the sport."
Lost this round, didn'cha?
Which was almost funny considering he was beat up, chained, and a prisoner on an alien world. Sinking back on his heels, he waited wearily for the surprise attack, but it did not come. Supported by her silent companion, the Lady Ilyava retreated. The Lady Mistal threw him a glance of amused malice, then she followed the other two out.
Ksirin returned shortly, two burly Protectors with him. Showing considerably more respect, they hauled Danner back to his feet and marched him from the tent. Ksirin, aside from a few speculative glances, said nothing, only watched him pass. A group of Protectors with their mounts stood nearby. They opened ranks to admit Danner and his escorts.
His wrists were unchained. Impatient hands threw the blackstone unceremoniously onto an asha. The others quickly mounted, moving their steeds to hem him in. He plucked up the reins awkwardly, hoping these animals were easier to ride than horses.
"Where are we going?" he asked, expecting to be ignored.
The Protector closest to him spat expertly on the ground and grinned unpleasantly.
It was not much of an answer.
* * *
The conference room was hastily readied. A wide-eyed boy in Rider brown and green busied himself at the credenza with a coffee service and some sandwiches. The Doctor settled into one of the comfortable chairs and smiled encouragingly at Cthilian. No fool, the young Dev returned a white-faced stare. Djan was safely back in their quarters, still under the Rider's indulgent care. Cthilian had insisted on seeing that for himself.
The Doctor folded long, fine-boned hands on the table before him and hoped Palas was not panicking. Outside this artificial oasis of calm, controlled pandemonium reigned. Captain McAllister was moving troops up from the surface, pulling them from the Consortium, from Deet and her own Horde. She had reacted to his news of the Timelords impending arrival with ominous indifference. Danner's absence terrified her in a way nothing else could. In her current state, an arrogant Gallifreyen envoy was likely to meet a welcome beyond their wildest nightmares. The Doctor was doing his best to keep an optimistic attitude, but the possible confrontation scared him.
Across the room, the wide double-doors opened. The Doctor brightened as Anna came in, folders tucked under her arm. She had the look of someone roused from her bed, but her eyes lit up when she saw the Timelord.
"Doctor!" She took the chair next to him. "Palas said you were here! I'm so glad. Danner's as good as retrieved!"
Blue eyes moved to Cthilian, who was watching her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "This is our new Dev?"
"Cthilian, meet Anna. Anna, Cthilian."
"Lady," whispered Cthilian.
"Is Alan coming?" the Doctor asked.
"Left for Santa Cruz this morning." Anna bounced back up and went to the refreshment table. "Palas sent someone after him, but who knows?"
She returned with a cup of coffee and a sandwich. As she set them down, the doors banged open again. Palas was first in, followed by an irate Lieutenant Nelson.
"I don't want to hear it, Miles! I'm going!"
"That's lunacy! What if these Timelords come? And there's that Council bullshit in Deet. These probes coming in every few days -- hell of a time for you to go, damn it!"
"Anna said she'd cover for me, didn't you, Anna?"
"That I did," agreed the psychologist amiably. "Relax, Miles."
"Right!" The tall Rider flung himself into a chair near the head of the table and scowled absently at Cthilian. "Going blind into unknown enemy territory with only the Doctor. Which is another thing . . ."
Palas poured some coffee and sat down beside Miles. "We're taking the crystal out of their reach. That's the best we can do until we get Danner back."
"Bullshit!"
"And what if the Timelords do come, Miles?" she demanded. "What if I have to expend all my energy defending the ship against them and there's no Danner to recharge me?"
"That won't be necessary," the Doctor interjected, but she ignored him.
"What did you do before?" Miles countered.
The Doctor, outraged, jumped to his feet, but Palas was faster. "No," she said flatly, and as Miles opened his mouth, she made a sudden, sharp, chopping movement with her hand. The lieutenant wisely shut up.
"We won't be going in blind," she resumed after a moment, "because Cthilian's going to fill us in, aren't you? Who was that out there anyway? This Raynig lord of yours?"
"I -- I don't know. I -- those were High Protectors, so I think it was the Sher'dana."
"And the Sher'dana is?" There was a note of exaggerated courtesy in her voice. Cthilian heard it and ducked his head.
"She is the most powerful dana in the world," he hesitated, swallowed, and plowed doggedly on. "Lady, it is Djan they want, and me. When the probe comes again, send us back. They will leave you alone after that."
"Touchingly naive," sneered Nelson. "They know we're here now. They'll be back. I sure as hell would be, and with reinforcements!"
"How old are you?" Anna interrupted, the sandwich halfway to her mouth.
"Twenty-four, lady," he replied.
"And this child, Djan?"
"Five."
She pursed her lips and sat back, food forgotten. "Tell us how you two came to be in this predicament, Cthilian."
"Anna, we don't have time . . . " began Palas.
"I want to know," Anna said mildly. "Do you mind?"
Palas made an impatient sound, but nodded.
With this gentle encouragement, Cthilian told them the tale of Katha Mzara, a sweet-faced young dana bride sent to the grim fortress of Raynig and the arms of a wild, dissolute youth. Bitter at a fate which made his elder brother heir, Kel Raynig used the delicate girl brutally when it suited him, ignored or tormented her otherwise. At last, alone and in desperation, she had turned to the ir'dan slave who worshiped her.
Cthilian told them about Djan's birth, eagerly awaited by both High Clans because it was said he would be the long-awaited Sil iri'dan. He explained Raynig's greed and desire for the prestige and wealth that come to the Clan who lays claim to the Sher'dana's consort.
The Doctor interrupted the tale. "What is this Sil iri'dan? Is Djan destined to be king?"
Cthilian shook his head. "Consort, sir. The Sil iri'dan has power, but only indirectly. The Duke of Visandri rules at the side of the Sher'dana."
"Secular and religious power-sharing," mused the Timelord. "Go on."
"Lady Katha began to fear for her life," the Dev continued, "and indeed, Lady, there were 'accidents.' When they told us she had thrown herself from the battlements, no one believed it. But she knew, Lady, and there was no help. She petitioned the Temple in Visandri, but they would not hear her. Her Clan has the power to challenge Raynig, but they refused her entreaties! In the end I was all she had and I could do nothing!"
"You rescued her son," Anna reminded him, "and at the possible cost of your own life. Why?"
"I swore I would do so, Lady."
"Yes, but the one to whom you swore is dead. Why risk both your lives?
"I loved her," he said simply.
Anna's eyes drifted to the file folders before her.
"Never mind, Cthilian," she said. "Consider it a cynical human question. You kept your oath and brought Djan to safety."
"But was it the right thing to do - to bring him *here*?" Cthilian shook his head. "Our presence has endangered you and perhaps cost Danner his life!"
"We don't know that," the Doctor said quietly. "These probes have been occurring - how long now?"
"Three weeks. Long before we found these two," Palas agreed. To the Dev, she said: "There were energy weapons fired and men in blue uniforms, long braids. Tell me about these."
"Protectors," he nodded. "A powerful Guild. They guard the dana and some of the more powerful High Clan lords."
"And their weapons?"
"Las-rods. Only Protectors may carry them."
Palas sighed. "Doctor, you said there was a pattern to these probes. When do you think the next one will be here?"
"Nineteen hours, give or take a few minutes."
"Suppose this Raynig has Danner," Palas addressed Cthilian again. "Where would they take him?"
"Lady, it is far more likely that, if he is still alive, he has been taken by the Sher'dana. And if it is Raynig, or any of the High Clans, they would take him to Sidhain'tan, too. The disappearance of the Sil is that important to my people."
"And where is Sidhain'tan in relation to the probe's entrance point?"
The Dev hesitated. "Three hundred miles southeast."
"What sort of transport would they be using?"
"Asha - riding beasts."
"Riding? You have energy weapons but no mechanized transport?"
Cthilian looked at her blankly; she had lost him again. Miles was steadily unhappier.
"Three hundred miles into enemy territory. Palas, this is insane! Shit, Danner may be dead for all we know."
"He's not." Her flat statement brooked no contradiction.
Nelson swore, banging his fist down on the table. With the facility of long practice, his Captain rescued her coffee and ignored him.
"Lady?" Cthilian looked up. ""I know the way. If you will see Djan safely to the Mzara, I will do what I can to get you to Sidhain'tan. I -- grew up there. I know every inch of the Sher."
"You may have a deal, Cthilian," she replied bluntly. "I keep thinking about those blasters, wondering what other surprises are out there."
"Are you sure taking Djan back now is a good idea?" the Doctor asked. "Why not tell his people at Mzara where to come to get him. Surely it would be safer that way?"
Cthilian was shaking his head and, to the Doctor's surprise, so was Anna.
"Djan should stay with Cthilian," she said resolutely, and the young Dev gave her a grateful smile. "And speaking of the boy, maybe you'd better go check on him, Cthilian. He looked fast on his way to twisting Sergeant Forest around his sweet little fingers. Lord only knows what the two of them will get up to!"
The Doctor was aware of a whisper along the edge of his thoughts as something passed between Anna and Palas.
"Go," Palas said simply. "Get some things packed. Be ready to make the crossing in nineteen hours. And, Cthilian?"
"Lady?"
"Whatever supplies you think we'll need -- ask for them."
"Yes, Lady." Cthilian bowed and withdrew quickly. He left a deep silence in his wake.
"What was all that about?" Miles looked irritably between Anna and the redhead. "Damn, I hate when you two do that!"
"I have no idea," admitted the Captain. "Anna?"
The blond woman opened one of the files and
looked uncertainly at the top page. "This may not be important,
but, these are the results of the medical tests done on the two Dev when
they were brought in."
She peeled off the top paper and pushed it
across the table toward Palas. The other woman looked at it without
comprehension. The Doctor, however, saw instantly and lifted started
eyes to Anna.
"This might as well be in Martian," Palas admitted. "What does it say?"
"These are DNA tests," the Doctor said slowly, pulling the paper in front of him. "Human and Dev are very nearly identical genetically. We can reasonably apply human results to them in most respects." He hesitated a moment, then: "And, according to this data, whether he knows it or not, Cthilian is Djan's biological father."