Mutineer's Moon

Dahak’s orders. That’s one reason I insisted on doing it myself,” he said, and felt a rush of relief when she nodded thoughtfully rather than flying into a rage.

“Aye, so much I well can see,” she said softly. “ ’Twas in thy mind that so be we knew thou hadst named thine own successor, then were we treason-minded we had slain thee and had done?”

“That’s about it,” he admitted uncomfortably. “I don’t dare contact Dahak again, and he can’t pick up my implants on passive instrumentation. If I’d been wrong about you and you’d known, you could have offed me and told him I bought it from the southerners.” He met her eyes much more pleadingly than he had MacMahan’s. “I didn’t really think you’d do it, but with the Achuultani coming and everything else going to hell, I couldn’t take the chance.”

“ ’Twas wiser in thee than e’er I thought to find,” she said, and he blinked in surprise as she smiled in white-toothed approval. “God’s Teeth, Colin—’twould seem we yet may make a spook o’ thee!”

“You do understand!”

“I ha’ not played mistress to Nergal’s spies these many years wi’out the gaining o’ some small wit,” she said dryly. “ ’Twas but prudence on thy part. Yet still a question plagueth me. Whyfor choose me to second thee? And if thou must make that choice, whyfor tell me not e’en now? Surely there can be naught but trust betwixt us wi’ all that’s passed sin then?”

“Well…” He felt himself flushing again. “I wasn’t certain how you’d take it,” he said finally. “We weren’t exactly … on the best of terms, you know.”

“ ’Tis true,” she admitted, and this time she blushed. It was her turn to glance sidelong at MacMahan, who, to his eternal credit, looked back with only the slightest twinkle in his eyes. “Yet knowing that, thou wouldst still ha’ seen me in thy shoon?”

“I didn’t intend to give my ‘shoon’ to anyone,” he said testily, “and I wouldn’t’ve been around to see it if it happened! But, yes, if it had to be someone, I picked you.” He shrugged. “You were the best one for the job.”

“ ’Tis hard to credit,” she murmured, “and ’twas lunacy or greater wit than I myself possess to gi’ such a gift to one who hated thee so sore.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice suddenly gentle. He met her gaze squarely, forgetting MacMahan’s presence for a moment. “You can understand the precautions I felt I had to take—is it so hard to accept that I might understand the reasons you hated me, ’Tanni? Or not blame you for them?”

“Isis spake those self-same words unto me,” Jiltanith said slowly, “and told me they did come from thee, yet no mind was I to hear her.” She shook her head and smiled, the first truly gentle smile he had seen from her. “Thy heart is larger far than mine, good Colin.”

“Sure,” he said uncomfortably, trying to sound light. “Just call me Albert Schweitzer.” Her smile turned into a grin, but gentleness lingered in her dark eyes. “Anyway,” he added, “we’re all friends now, aren’t we?”

“Aye,” she said firmly.

“Then there’s an end to’t, as you’d say. And the reason you can’t fly the lead in Stalking-Horse. We can’t risk losing you.”

“Not so,” she said instantly, her eyes shrewd. “Thou art not dead nor like to be, and ’twould be most unlike thee not to ha’ named some other to follow me. Tamman, I’ll warrant, or some other o’ the children?”

He refused to answer, but she saw it in his eyes.

“Well, then, sobeit. Tamman is most unlike myself, good Colin. Thou knowest—far more than most—how well my heart can hate, but my hate burneth cold, not hot. Not so for him. He needeth still some time ere he may clear his mind, and Stalking-Horse can be no task for one beclouded.”

“But—”

“She’s right,” MacMahan said quietly, and Colin glared reproachfullly at him. The colonel shrugged. “I should’ve seen it myself. Tamman hasn’t left sickbay since he carried Amanda into it. He’d go, but he needs time to settle down before he goes back out. And ’Tanni is our best pilot—you know that better than most, too. There’s not supposed to be any fighting, but if there is, she’s best equipped to handle it. We’ll give her Rohantha for a weaponeer. They’ll actually make a better team than Geb and Tamman.”

“But—”

“ ’Tis closed, Colin. ’Hantha and I will take the lead.”

“Damn it, I don’t want her up there in a goddamned pinnace, Hector!”

“That doesn’t matter. ’Tanni and I are in charge of this operation—not you—and she’s right. So shut up and soldier … sir!”

The admittance chime to Ganhar’s private study sounded, and he looked up from the holo map he’d been updating as he ordered the hatch to open. It was late, and he half-expected to see Shirhansu, but it wasn’t she, and his eyes narrowed in surprise as his caller stepped inside.

“Ramman?” He leaned back in his chair. “What can I do for you?”

“I…” The other man’s eyes darted about like those of a trapped animal, and Ganhar found it hard not to wrinkle his face in distaste as Ramman’s unwashed odor wafted to him.

“Well?” he prompted when the other’s hesitation stretched out.

“Are … are your quarters secure?” Ramman asked hesitantly, and Ganhar frowned in fresh surprise. Ramman sounded serious, yet also oddly as if he were playing for time while he reached some inner decision.

“They are,” he said slowly. “I have them swept every morning.”

“Good.” Ramman paused again.

“Look,” Ganhar said finally, “if you’ve got something to say, why not say it?”

“I’m afraid,” Ramman admitted after another maddening pause. “But I have to tell someone. And—” he managed a lopsided, sickly smile “—I’m even more afraid of Jantu than I am of you.”

“Why?” Ganhar asked tightly.

“Because I’m a traitor,” Ramman whispered.

“What?!” Ramman flinched as if Ganhar had struck him, yet it also seemed he’d crossed some inner Rubicon. When he spoke again, his flat, hurried voice was louder.

“I’m a traitor. I—I’ve been in contact with … with Horus and his daughter, Jiltanith, for years.”

“You’ve been talking to them?!”

“Yes. Yes! I was afraid of Anu, damn it! I wanted … I wanted to defect, but they wouldn’t let me! They made me stay, made me spy for them!”

“You fool,” Ganhar said softly. “You poor, damned fool! No wonder Jantu scares the shit out of you.” Then, as the shock faded, his eyes narrowed again. “But if that’s true, why tell me? Why tell anyone?”

“Because … because they’re going to attack the enclave.”

“Preposterous! They could never crack the shield!”

“They don’t plan to.” Ramman bent towards Ganhar, and his voice took on an urgent cadence. “They’re coming in through the access points.”

“They can’t—they don’t have the admittance code!”

“I know. Don’t you see? They want me to steal it for them!”

“That’s stupid,” Ganhar objected, staring at the dirty, cringing Ramman. “They must know Anu doesn’t trust you—or did you lie to them about that?”

“No, I didn’t,” Ramman said tightly. “And even if I hadn’t told them, they’d know from how long I’ve been left outside.”

“Then they must also know Jantu plans to change the code as soon as all the ‘untrustworthy elements’ are back outside.”

“I know, damn it! Listen to me, for Maker’s sake! They don’t want me to bring it out. I’m supposed to plant it for someone else. One of the degenerates!”

“Breaker!” Ganhar whispered. Maker damn it, but it made sense! If they’d gotten one of their own degen-people inside, it made audacious, possibly foolhardy sense, but sense. They were terribly outnumbered, but with surprise on their side… And it made their whole offensive make sense, too. Drive them into the enclave … steal the code … smuggle it out and hit them before Anu and Jantu changed it… It was brilliant!

“Why tell me now?” he demanded.