Jake knew protoss could weep, after a fashion, anyway. He just...never thought Zamara did. But at the rush of commingled emotions that swept over him—gratitude, surprise, regret, guilt, apprehension—he realized that if Zamara had still been in her living body, she would be hunching over, her skin mottling with grief. If he could have hugged her, he would.
It is not self-pity, Jacob.
I know that.
But this information must be passed on. It must be preserved. And you must survive.
In that order, he thought wryly, but he agreed with it. He trusted Zamara, even though that information had yet to be shared with him.
It would have been so much easier had I not been killed. Well, yeah, I'd think so too.
Jake finished the fruit, his hunger sated, and turned his face up to the rosy sun. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the quiet moment of warmth on his face, then sighed and said, "All right. Let's go try and talk to that dark templar."
CHAPTER 10
THEY FOUND HIM SITTING ON A HUGE BOULDER so close to the waterfall that spray had dampened his skin. Zeratul had shed the heavy, dark robes and pieces of armor Jake had seen him in earlier and now wore merely a simple dark cloth wrapped around his groin. He was still, as still as the Aiur protoss Jake had gotten to know so well and missed so very much. Sitting in the familiar crouching position, his hands resting on his long, bony legs, Zeratul seemed made of stone. And Jake thought he must be, to resist Zamara's words.
Jake sat down beside the meditating protoss. Zeratul moved not a millimeter, though Jake knew that if he so desired, the dark templar prelate could spring into action and attack—and kill—the terran before Jake could blink. He let the preserver do the talking; she was the one who had known the guy, after all.
"Zeratul. My old friend. Together we survived the destruction of Aiur. We both loved the noble Tassadar, who gave his life to defeat the zerg and keep his people alive. You offered the sanctuary of your world when all seemed lost for—"
"I bid you silence, preserver."
Jake actually flinched at the iciness with which the mental words were spoken.
Wow, this guy is one coldhearted fish, isn't he?
Less so than he appears. Armor is not worn solely on the body.
Zamara returned her attention to Zeratul. He felt the longing to connect, the desperation in her thoughts as she continued talking.
"I will not, I cannot, be silent. I have the memories of so much horror. And yet so much courage—that of Tassadar and Adun chief among them. I know that you are great of spirit. You have made errors. All living beings do, Zeratul. It is arrogance of the highest degree for you to think that—"
"Again you reprimand me with charges of arrogance when you know nothing of what I have done!" With a speed that startled Jake, although he knew he should have known better, Zeratul was on his feet. He was ready to attack if Zamara pushed him too far.
"You will leave this place immediately! Leave me to my meditation and my pain. It is mine; it does not belong to you."
"No. We shall not leave."
Jake braced himself for the burst of outrage, the attack. Zeratul surprised him again by merely giving the protoss equivalent of a shrug.
"Be that as you wish, then. I shall go," he said. He rose from the crouching position, taller than most protoss and more imposing than any Jake had ever seen in the flesh or through Zamara's memories, and strode purposefully toward his vessel. A moment later, he was gone.
Well, that could have gone better. Indeed. We will try again tomorrow.
And they did. And the day after that. Both times, Zeratul was implacable in his icy resistance to engaging in any sort of conversation. Finally, on the third day, Zamara said bluntly, "Are you not at all even curious as to how my essence ended up inside a terran body?"
Zeratul's head turned toward them at that, his eyes glowing. Jake tensed. He knew, of course, the basics—that Zamara had been evading Ulrezaj's assassins, that she had left a note in her own blood and clues as to how someone might find her. But the details she had not shared with him. He was not sure he wanted them.
"I...am curious," Zeratul admitted. The protoss had always struck Jake as catlike—not in how they looked in any way, but their grace, their power, and their overwhelming curiosity about first the world and then the universe around them. "I did not know that humans were capable of containing the essence of a preserver."
"He is not," Zamara said bluntly. "The duty is killing him."
Zeratul's eyes narrowed slightly, and as he regarded Jake, the archaeologist knew that this time, Zeratul was not seeing Zamara. He was looking at Jake.
"Did you undertake this duty freely, human?"
Jake shook his head uncomfortably. "No. But...I've learned to carry it freely."
Zeratul nodded, reading all of Jake's thoughts, catching all the subtle nuances and emotions, some of them conflicting, that surrounded his carrying a preserver. "I understand. I confess, your species is full of surprises. I have met one much like you. James Raynor."
Jake brightened. "Yeah! You said something about him before. You knew him?"
"Yes. I did." Zeratul volunteered nothing more.
"I know about him," Jake said. "He stood with the protoss on Aiur, helped Fenix to disable the warp gate. Zamara and Rosemary managed to get it working again. That's how we were able to come here."
This was the way to break through Zeratul's stony shell— curiosity. The tidbits Jake and Zamara were tossing out were simply too intriguing for Zeratul not to want to learn more.
"Shall I tell you, then, how it is that Jake and I share one body, but two spirits?"
Zeratul turned back to the waterfall. For a moment, Jake thought he was going to dismiss them again. But the prelate said nothing for a moment.
At last, he nodded. "Much I have learned in the Void. Much I have learned in the last four years. But this would be something I have not heard in all my long, long years. Tell me then, preserver, what skill you used to continue to preserve yourself and the memories you carry."
Jake closed her glowing eyes and hung on desperately with her four-fingered hands. It was something she had never expected—an attack by her own people.. .or by beings from another race who had commandeered protoss vessels. She didn't know which; none of the ships had responded to hails. They had only come out of nowhere, encircled the carrier, and with no explanation, opened fire.
The Xa’lor lurched and shuddered, evidence of the severity of the attack it was trying to withstand. Despite everything the skilled pilots could do, the valuable passenger was thrown to the metal plating of the ship. Before she could reach up to grasp the railing and pull herself to her feet, hands were there to assist her. She accepted the help with no arrogance, merely as something that was her due. She was a preserver, and she, more than anyone or anything else on this ship, had to be protected at all costs. Jake felt blood trickling from a cut on her head, right below the jeweled band that held back her nerve cords. She felt the concern of the crew wash over her in a warm wave, tinged with their own fears and the cold set of their determination.
Executor Amur's mind brushed Jake's. "Zamara, I can only think that this inexplicable attack has something to do with the knowledge you harbor."
Jake nodded, grieved but stoic; she agreed. It was the only possible explanation.
"We are outnumbered by our own ships," he continued. "I doubt there will be an escape for us. But you must survive. What you carry must endure. You know where the escape pods are; go there."