“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Platoon-Captain,” Velvelig replied with a faint smile.
* * *
“So when we spotted you and saw the unicorns and the wagons floating a foot off the ground, then saw all those fellows in Arcanan uniform, we were pretty sure the bastards had finally gotten around to hunting us down. Fortunately, our lookouts spotted quite a few PAAF uniforms, too, and the people wearing them didn’t seem to be prisoners. Then Hulmok got a good look at you through his binoculars, Sir. After that, it seemed like a good idea to at least give you a chance to explain what in Saramash’s name was going on instead of just shooting you.”
“I’m glad it did, Platoon-Captain chan Baskay,” Velvelig said dryly. “I’ve discovered I have a constitutional objection to being shot. And you can’t have been any more surprised to see us than we are to see you. We didn’t think anyone had gotten away.”
“Not many did, Sir,” Dorzon chan Baskay, Viscount Simrath, said grimly, and his expression as he looked at the three Arcanan fifties seated behind the regiment-captain could have been carved out of flint. “If not for Hulmok’s Talent, they’d have caught us as flat-footed as they must’ve caught Company-Captain chan Tesh. As it was, sixteen of his boys didn’t make it.”
“I can imagine.” Unlike chan Baskay’s face, Velvelig’s was expressionless-he was an Arpathian septman, after all-but his voice was equally harsh. “Most of my men at Fort Ghartoun didn’t have any more chance than yours did. And I’m fairly certain what you’re thinking. But Fifty Ulthar was already a prisoner in my custody at the time of the attack. He didn’t have anything to do with it, and Fifty Sarma and Fifty Cothar-and all their men, for that matter-put their necks right into the noose to get what was left of my people out alive. For that matter, my own Sifter’s confirmed that everything they’ve told me is the truth. And none of my people would be here now if not for them and their assistance.”
Chan Baskay glared at the three Arcanans for another few seconds. Then his nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply.
“Point taken, Sir,” he said quietly. “And, to be honest, we’ve had confirmation of our own that something about this whole attack stinks to high heaven. Besides the fact that it was a treacherous, cold-blooded ploy from the very beginning, I mean.”
Sarma and Ulthar winced slightly at his last sentence, but they met his hard eyes levelly, and something like a tinge of approval flickered in the depths of those eyes.
“We took three of the Arcanan ‘honor guard’ alive, and all three of them were regular troopers, without any idea what Fifty Narshu and his ‘Special Operations’ assassins had in mind. I didn’t want to believe that, but Trekar”-he twitched his head at Under-Captain Trekar Rothag, sitting beside him-“Sifted them the same way your Sifter did for the fifties.” He shrugged. “So I’m at least open to the possibility that the Arcanan command systematically lied to its own men. In fact, I’m godsdamned certain it did.”
“Excuse me?”
Velvelig cocked his head. The man in front of him looked very little like the immaculately groomed Ternathian cavalry officer who’d passed through Fort Ghartoun on his way to Fallen Timbers as Zindel Calirath’s diplomatic representative. It wasn’t just the inevitable weathered raggedness, either. Unlike his own people, chan Baskay and the survivors of Hulmok Arthag’s guard detail hadn’t been given the opportunity to pick through Fort Ghartoun’s supply rooms before heading off cross-universe, and the jungle had been less than kind to their clothing and uniforms. Their weapons and equipment, however, were spotless, meticulously cleaned and cared for. But the endless weeks he’d spent keeping his tiny command of fugitives together in this jungle, never knowing if-or when-an Arcanan pursuit would come through the portal after them, had toughened more than just his exterior. There was good, solid metal inside Platoon-Captain chan Baskay, and that metal had been hammered into something hard and lethal.
“It happens that one of the Arcanan ‘diplomats’ also survived the ambush attempt,” the platoon-captain said now. “He almost didn’t, but Master Skirvon’s been remarkably…forthcoming, and he’s had ample proof Trekar knows when he’s lying. And that he really, really doesn’t want to lie to me ever again.”
Namir Velvelig was an Arpathian, yet something in the younger man’s tone sent a shiver through him. Somehow he didn’t think he’d want to lie to Dorzon chan Baskay, either.
“Forthcoming, is he?” The regiment-captain’s tone was no more than mildly interested, and Hulmok Arthag, standing behind the seated chan Baskay, grunted.
“Told you you wouldn’t put him off stride, Dorzon,” he said, and chan Baskay snorted a brief laugh.
“Yes. Yes, you did, Hulmok,” he acknowledged, then looked back at Velvelig.
“Yes, ‘forthcoming’ is about the best word for it, Sir. As a matter of fact, he’s tried very hard to come up with something new I’d like to know every day. He seems to be under the impression that his ability to do that has a direct bearing on his longevity.”
“I see. And while he’s been so ‘forthcoming,’ what exactly has he told you?”
“Well, besides the fact that Shaylar and her husband survived the massacre-” He broke off and arched an eyebrow. “You already knew about that, too, Sir?”
“I told you Fifty Ulthar and Fifty Sarma have been as honest with us as they could. For that matter, they didn’t know we didn’t already know they were alive. Would it happen that your ‘forthcoming’ diplomat’s told you why they were so idiotic as to lie about it in the first place?”
“For several reasons, apparently, Sir. The most immediately pressing one was that they didn’t want us to realize how much they’d already learned about the Voices. Not until they were ready to attack and start shooting them out of hand, anyway. But Skirvon’s pretty sure there was more to it than that. In fact, what he’s said dovetails very neatly with what Fifty Ulthar and Fifty Sarma have told you. According to what he’s had to say, they’re absolutely right that someone is deliberately manipulating the situation. Skirvon doesn’t know for certain why, although he’s fairly sure it has to do with politics back home, but he’s pretty damned positive his own government would be really, really pissed off by the way things are being handled out here…assuming it knew the truth, that is. According to him, it’s probably about a confrontation between what he calls the Mythalans and the Andarans-I’m guessing your friends here can give us a better idea of what the hells he’s talking about in that regard-even if he doesn’t have a clue what the end game is supposed to be. But if he’s not sure exactly what the ‘why’ is, he’s pretty damned sure about the ‘who’ who’s behind it. According to him, it’s someone named Nith mul Gurthak, the local governor.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
March 8
Soolan chan Rahool settled into his familiar jungle cabin after another easy day of tree climbing and eating his fill of nuts and fruit. His arms still twinged a bit from building back the muscle mass lost during travel, but no gorillas had been waiting for him on his return to the chimpanzee clan.
The work of arranging transportation for any of the gorillas who chose to travel out-universe was done. Now he hoped they’d leave him alone. Larakesh had been a blast, especially meeting with the stevedores, but hunting up and down Ricathia to find the right gorilla clan to report to had been excessively like Ternathian Army work.
His own Minarti chimpanzees seemed much as they’d always been: dedicated to moving about in the triple canopy to follow the food supply while negotiating among themselves for the best and having as many baby chimpanzees as they could manage to feed.
He sat up fast nearly slamming his head on the guest’s bunk above him. Babies! A string of curses ran through his head until he fixed on the core problem. They’re nearly all pregnant. And that wasn’t normal at all. The Minarti clan grandmother was ironfisted about controlling the size of the clan to keep it within the resources available to it. As far as chan Rahool knew, the range territory hadn’t increased-and he was pretty sure he’d have been made aware of that minor fact if it had-but the clan was obviously growing, anyway.