Mong shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Rusco, with your juvenile antics. It almost makes no sense to me.”
I looked over at Zan, crouched in a ball, cowed against the wall. Why’d I listen to that shaven-headed idiot?
“Sometimes I think there is some genius to your moves but mixed with these dumb, rat-brain schemes makes me pause. How are you even still alive? Did you actually think you’d be able to make it past a battalion of trained men not a mile away? I thought you a man of some resource, that you’d devise something more innovative?” He frowned, a heavy sigh pulling down his lips.
I shrugged. “Well, desperate times demand desperate measures, don’t you think, Master Mong? You would know something of that.” I grinned, spat out a chipped tooth and a thin spray of blood. I remember regurgitating some dumb line like that back on Bantam when Noss’s hand had been chewed up.
Mong clicked his tongue. “It saddens me to think you’ve corrupted innocent minds into committing arson. Brother Zan is a loyal member of our Brotherhood.”
I broke out in a laugh. “Brother Zan would cut your heart out and eat it if he had the chance.”
Mong stared at the rebel who sat crouched, scowling with a sullen gleam in his black eyes. “Perhaps. The truth will be ironed out in time. I am confident in Zan’s loyalty despite your claim.”
I shrugged. “You can keep on believing your fantasies.”
“I see my tests have failed,” he cut in. “I expected you to try to escape—I was wondering when and how. Surely not some lackwit effort from the master of mayhem, Jet Rusco.”
“Well, now that we know the truth, it’s cause for celebration. Just a dumb grifter in need of Sister Kazoo’s teachings.”
“Get them out of my sight,” he barked. “Take this wiseass to the Chamber of Redemption. Zan too.”
Chapter 21
They dragged us to the Temple of Light, several doors down the hall from where Blest and Lady Volia were held prisoners. I guessed Mong kept all his subversives here.
Before a lofty iron-bound door, Zan and I slumped with armed guards on either side. Balt and Hadruk were among them.
After a time, Mong arrived in a black mood, murmuring curses through his teeth. He stared at me, as I looked up at him, sullen and red eyed.
“You disappoint me, Jet Rusco. I told you about my rules—no escape. What do you do? Try to escape.” He exhaled a caustic breath. “I’ve been far too lenient with you. It’s been an expensive mistake. I fear I’ve done you a karmic disservice by not counseling you properly.”
I grinned in a crazy daze of unreality. What the hell was he talking about? I contemplated his words in my hazed, beaten-up condition as Balt kicked the grin off my face and a new level of pain tingled through my nerve centers.
“A few prayers first.” Mong declared, beckoning us curtly into the main chamber of the Temple of Light.
Rough hands hauled Zan and I forth through marble halls, high-ceilinged as a basilica’s. In truth, an odd and surreal display of opulence not generally known in these depressed times. As if I saw it for the first time, the Temple of Light’s apse loomed before me. Seen from another angle, graced with dreamy, multi-colored light filtering through the stained-glass windows, to illuminate the altar screen gilded of only purest gold inset with pearls. Paintings were strewn lazily on its walls of war scenes, inspired by works of art from long ago Earth.
Before the altar, Mong muttered a few desultory words at the macabre tanks. “I must clear my mind of this fiasco. Balt, Hadruk, be my witnesses. Bow and meditate, Rusco, all of you. Pay obeisance to the old gods!” He bowed his head in silence. Minutes passed. At last, marching footsteps drifted to our ears behind us and a massive, square-shouldered man dressed in leathers and furs like Mong swept forth stiff-legged. He had a troubled frown on his flat-nosed face.
Mong tilted his head up. “What do you want? Why disturb me now?”
“It’s the planet Sargon, sir. It is—”
“What of Sargon? Full report.”
“Seems they took the Vendecki lead and fired by propaganda—”
“What, Freduk, what? Spit it out.” Mong glared at him.
“I’m afraid, the Sargonians triumphed and managed to seize Keryutti, the capital city.”
“What of our outer defenses?” Mong barked.
“Lost. Bastions crumbled.”
The Star Lord’s fist clenched. “I gave you full command. What of the squadron of attack ships I deployed under your leadership?”
“Repelled, sir.” Freduk winced, his lip downturned. “By some unknown force field.” He quivered. “More Vendecki tech. We believe they were colluding with the Melinarians.”
At the mention of the name, Mong sucked in a long, slow breath. He moved toward the altar on tired feet, his boots echoing ominously on the marble. He stared at the memorabilia there for some time, the medallions, incense holders, the hallowed cups and carved, commemorative bowls, lit a candle and looked up into the ancient, dead face of his stone god lost in the mists of time. He murmured a few words then withdrew, turned his weight full around. “You idiot! May Yrzin punish you for your incompetence.” He lifted a hand and in barely concealed wrath, the guilty lieutenant Freduk’s eyes bulged. Blood pooled around those lids and his face shriveled, crimson with fluid.
Freduk slumped in an unruly heap. “Clean up this trash,” Mong said with disgust. “Throw his body to the eagles and buzzards on the other side of the river.”
Balt nodded.
Mong scowled. “If I had have been there, Balt, instead of playing policeman to Rusco’s stupid high jinks, none of this would have happened.”
“Agreed, lord. Give the irritant to
