“I jus’ got word t’at there’s a problem,” Poertena lied. “So, me, I’m not really pay attention to tee game. We need to stop. Soon.”
“I can quit,” Tratan said. There was half a hand left, but he flashed his cards. “We just throw them down, tot up the score like it’s real, and deal a hand of poker. And pretend to play until you have to move.” He looked casually around for any immediate threats. “We need to get our spears?”
“What?” Cranla said. “I don’t—”
“Shut up,” Denat said mildly. “Just do it.”
“Oh.” The young Mardukan finally caught the drift and tossed his cards into the middle of the table with a shrug. “Not a great hand, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Tratan said. “I think it was a lousy hand we were just dealt.”
“Okay, Lady,” Poertena said. “What you message?” He deliberately kept his eyes on the table and addressed the apparent nonsense syllables to Tratan.
“I think I caught a bit of that,” the tribesman said in return, glancing involuntarily at the female and then down at the table. “So it wasn’t one of your mystical radio communications?”
“There is one who needs to talk to your leaders,” the female sang, dusting the walls beside the table now. “One who must meet with your leaders.”
“T’at will be hard,” Poertena said, but he glanced up at Cord’s nephews. “Cranla, go get tee Sergeant Major?”
“Okay,” the Mardukan said, using the actual Standard, and got up and trotted towards the stairs.
“I will meet you near the fireplace downstairs, in a little while,” the female sang, sweeping her way towards the door. “In the time a candle takes to burn a finger’s breadth.”
Poertena thought about it but decided against trying to get her to stay put. She was obviously working to a game plan, and if the humans wanted to use it, they had to have some idea what it was.
“All right,” he answered, picking up the poker hand. “A half-hour.” He glanced at his cards and grimaced. “A full house on deal. Jus’ my luck.”
“Not really,” Tratan said soothingly. “I just didn’t want you to be distracted trying to decide what to draw.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
“You’re sure about this, Poertena?” Lieutenant Jasco asked dubiously.
The blazing fireplace made the kitchen an inferno which was normally empty, but for Matsugae and the mahout’s wives who helped him with meals. Now, however, it was crowded with the sergeant major, the lieutenant, Poertena, and Denat, along with Julian and one of his fire teams. Matsugae and his current assistant continued preparing the evening meal, stepping around the Marines and Mardukans crowding the room, but it wasn’t exactly easy.
“T’is is where she said, Sir.”
“She’s late, then,” the lieutenant said.
“The time is ambiguous,” Pahner said over the radio. “A ‘finger’s breadth’ on a candle. Human or Mardukan, and what kind of candle?” The captain, Roger, and O’Casey were attending the assembly through the suit cameras from Despreaux’s squad.
“But it still should have been about half an hour, Sir,” Jasco argued. “This is a fool’s errand,” he added with a glance at the armorer.
“So you think we should have dismissed it, Sir?” Kosutic asked.
“I think,” the lieutenant replied as the wall behind him swung silently open, “that we should all get ready to be hit. We don’t know what might be coming at us,” he finished as the female menial, moving in a much less menial fashion and accompanied by a familiar face, stepped out of the secret passage.
“Shit,” Kosutic said mildly, and flipped her helmet sensors to deep-sonar. The view of the “visitors’ quarters” in that frequency was interesting. “Captain, we got us a honeycomb here.”
Jasco looked at her very strangely, then noticed where everyone else was staring, looked over his shoulder, and jumped half out of his chameleon suit, then backed hastily over to join the other humans.
Julian wrinkled his nose and chuckled.
“Well, if it isn’t the tinker!”
Kheder Bijan nodded as the female, no longer looking either meek or unintelligent, padded across the room to secure the door.
“Please pardon my deception on your approach. It was necessary to prevent your destruction.”
“What do you mean?” Jasco’s natural suspicions had not been particularly eased by having someone step out of a “solid” wall behind him. “Trust me, nobody would be destroying
“You can be killed,” Bijan replied. “You were badly hurt at Voitan. You lost, I believe, some thirty out of your total of ninety.”
“Slightly off,” Kosutic told him with a thin smile. “You must have had someone counting wounded they assumed would die, but we’re tougher than that.”
Bijan clapped his hands quietly in agreement.
“Yes, my own count showed that the numbers were off. Thank you for that explanation. Nonetheless, if you hadn’t come to Marshad, you would have been destroyed on the road to Pasule. Even if Radj Hoomas had needed his entire army to accomplish it, you would have been destroyed.”
“Why?” Jasco demanded. “What the hell did we do?”
“Not what we did, Sir,” Julian said. “What we are. We’re his ticket to power.”
“Exactly.” Bijan nodded at the sergeant. “You are his ‘ticket’ to control of the
“That’s more or less what we figured,” Pahner said to Kosutic and Jasco. He was using a discrete frequency to avoid having the rest of the company listening in; this was not a morale-boosting conversation. “And we can’t afford the time. He has a plan, so ask him what it is.”
“What’s the plan?” Kosutic asked, cutting Jasco off.
“Let Kosutic take the lead, Lieutenant,” Pahner coached when the lieutenant looked sharply at the noncom. “It’s customary to let a lower-level person take point. That way if you decide to hang somebody out to dry, it’s the Sergeant Major, not you.”
“You have to have a reason to contact us,” the sergeant major continued, suppressing a smile. The captain would be hard pressed to ever “hang somebody out to dry,” but it certainly made a good excuse to let the grown- ups do the planning.
“You have a schedule to keep,” the spy told her with a Mardukan grunt of humor. “Yes, I know even that about you. You have to reach this far distant coast within a set time frame. You can’t afford to spend a year here campaigning.”
“How in the hell—!” Jasco exclaimed.
“Nice piece of information,” Kosutic said. “But you still haven’t mentioned the plan.”
“There are those who don’t look with favor upon Radj Hoomas, obviously,” the tinker said. “There are many such in Marshad. Perhaps even more, at least among those with power and funds, in Pasule.”
“And you are what? A friend of these people? A believer?”
“Call me a friend,” the spy said. “Or a humble servant.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, humble servant, what’s the plan of this anonymous group of people?”
“They simply wish to change the status quo,” the spy said unctuously. “To create a better Marshad for all its inhabitants. And, among those in the group who are from Pasule, to save themselves from conquest by a madman.”
“And why should we help them?” Kosutic asked. “Given that we might be ‘monarchy: like it or die’ types.”
