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Gasping for breath, Robert leaned against one of the huge boulders dotting the seemingly endless hillside rising before him in a steep incline. Thomar and T'lark were several yards ahead of him, climbing with an appalling lack of effort.
For the hundredth time today, Robert wondered how it was that every time Thomar suggested something, it sounded like a great idea at first, but when one was in the middle of it, it turned out to be a mess. And yet he fell for those suggestions every single time.
It had all started innocently enough. Winter had lost its icy grasp and with the gentle breeze of spring in the air, Thomar had announced that he would take two days off from being a duke to visit the N'Ptalini village he had grown up in. His real family, as he called it. He had not seen them since he had been snatched away by the Emperor's Ruby Guards to become Duke after the suicide of his birthmother nearly two years ago. But now that his rule was cemented, he could afford to go.
Robert had felt honoured when Thomar asked him to come. He never spoke much about the S'batha T'cla and his N'Ptalini family, but Robert could tell they meant much to him. All the more touching for him to want to share it with his pet.
The times when Robert had been scared of the N'Ptalini was long past, constant exposure to Thomar's bodyguards had seen to that. Maybe these N'Ptalini living in the mountains of Aylian were more savage and dangerous, but Robert trusted his master to protect him.
What Thomar had failed to mention was the fact that there was no proper landing space for a hoverglider anywhere near S'batha. They had parked their glider further down, and had been climbing uphill for well over an hour now. Not the kind of exertion Robert was used to. He was a spoiled court pet and an old one at that. Right now, he felt every year and every extra rasher of bacon he had enjoyed over the dreary months of winter.
Even constantly running around on a leash attached to an adventurous puppy hadn't prepared him for this. Robert gently stroked the amulet safely tucked away under his shirt. Alain would have a great time bouncing all over the slope. And it would be a veritable nightmare to chase him down again. For once, it was a good thing that he had to remain locked up when Thomar was around.
“Robert? Are you alright?” Thomar called from further up.
Apparently, his master had finally noticed that his darling pet was falling behind. Blasted bastard. Briefly, Robert wondered when he had discarded his servile attitude that demanded he worship his master in all things. He was past that with this particular master, who he loved and adored much more than he could ever worship him. Thomar must have known this would be a bitch of a trip for Robert. He always thought of everything, after all. So he skipped the grovelling in his reply.
“No, I'm not alright!” At least the brief rest having restored his ability to breathe properly. “I'm going to die of a heart attack any minute now!” He glared up at Thomar for all that he was worth. “My lord!”
The breeze carried T'lark's laughter downhill. Blasted, heartless bastard. Well, we’ll see how you climb a mountain once you're my age.
“We can take a break, if you want,” Thomar offered a lot more helpfully, “but it's not much further now. At the top of the slope, we'll already be able to see the entrance to the village.”
Of course this N'Ptalini T'cla, like most of their mountain settlements, was located underground. The planet was riddled with extensive cavern systems, many of them interconnecting. It was a feature shared with the N'Ptalini homeworld Geshi N'Ptah, where they lived in cavernous structures built over centuries by local plants. Only, those cave-filled hills were located right on the edges of the ocean, providing easy access to the N'Ptalini's favourite element.
Aylian's caverns had been a middling substitute at best, but they had also been the reason why it was one of the last planets won back from the N'Ptalini in the great war between their race and Humanity. Hidden in the heavily fortified caverns, it had been close to impossible to rout them out. Historians postulated that some deep pockets of resistance had never been found and had continued to plague Aylian's rulers as breeding grounds for N'Ptalini rebellions ever since.
Robert had tried to read up on the history prior to this visit, but had found the mix of dry facts and wild speculations unbearable. Neither would serve him well when visiting actual people.
Asking T'lark had not been particularly helpful either. The N'Ptalini had a plethora of stories to share about oppression and exploitation in their history, but not much about how they had first conquered and then lost Aylian centuries ago.
At least, Robert had been treated to some hair-raising tales of the times when T'lark and F'leer had been terrorists, preying on the nobility and rich commoners of Aylian. Asking F'leer would probably have resulted in a lecture on how N'Ptalini rights were still being ignored. Not that humans were treated any better. T'lark had provided colourful tales of adventure and mischief, which made the terrorist acts – which had gotten them sentenced to death – sound like pranks.
“Come on! You can do it, old man!” T'lark teased him from up ahead.
Robert resisted the urge to throw one of the many convenient stones at him and instead pushed away from the boulder he had been leaning against. He'd make it up that mountain somehow, and if he died of a stroke in the process, at least he could be sure that Thomar would feel sorry for it for the rest of his life.
This time, his two companions waited for him and when he reached them, Thomar had a small, happy smile for Robert that made him admit that the effort was worth it after all. Thomar was willing to share his family with him. Something personal, something he was not sharing with anyone else at court, discounting his unruly N'Ptalini bodyguards. It was a measure of trust and inclusion that proved once more that his feelings for Thomar were returned.
They continued together and finally reached the top of the slope only a few minutes later. Here, the mountain rose up in an uneven cliff face, but at the foot of it a narrow path led up to some immense boulders that looked like they had been scattered by a giant child throwing a temper tantrum.
Thomar pointed ahead and Robert could make out old, faded markings on the boulders, some carved into the stone, some painted and nearly washed away. N'Ptalini pictograms.
Robert wanted to ask what they said, but funnily, T'lark asked the same question before he could.
Thomar smirked at him. “You can't read N'Ptalini?”
T'lark shrugged, mildly embarrassed. “I grew up in the city slums,” he said. “No one around to teach me cultural stuff. Too busy surviving.”
“They tell the story of the T'cla,” Thomar explained, “how these caverns were found, who settled them first. What great battles their warriors were involved in. Visions of the future glimpsed by the priests. It's history and prophecy.”
“So a little more elaborate than a city limits sign?” T'lark grinned insolently and was promptly kicked in the shin by Thomar.
“Your lack of respect for your race's cultural heritage is despicable.” Thomar sounded inappropriately cheerful.
Robert smiled. It was a rare treat to see the Duke of Aylian shed his mature cloak of rulership and behave in so carefree a manner. He was well aware that he was the one who shared most of these moments.
“Are they expecting us or will we be shot on sight?” T'lark asked as they walked between the towering stone slabs.
“They only shoot unwelcome visitors, so we should be rid of you soon enough,” Thomar continued their playful banter.
He did, however, have a slight frown on his face now. “I do wonder where the guards are,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and quickened his pace.
Not knowing what to look for, Robert only noticed the entrance to the caverns when they had nearly reached it. He had expected some impressive, huge, yawning cave mouth. Instead, it was a tunnel, barely wide enough for two men to walk side by side, unmarked and unassuming. Apparently, the entrance should have been guarded, judging by Thomar's deepening frown.
Only a few steps in, the tunnel took a sharp turn and looked much less natural suddenly. It widened, and elaborate murals decorated the smooth walls, reminding Robert of the patterns of N'Ptalini scutes. Softly glowing electric lamps hung at intervals from the rising ceiling. It looked beautiful and actually, quite welcoming.
A lot more welcoming than the angry shouts from several voices up ahead.
With dismay, Robert noticed that both Thomar and T'lark were now tense and alert, T'lark's hand resting on his blaster.
They emerged from the tunnel and stepped into a large cavern. The ceiling here was so high Robert could not make it out in the murky shadows above, the cavern floor was paved with aged mosaics. Other tunnels opened up in all directions. In the centre, there was a large fire pit which held only a small fire currently.
Several N'Ptalini stood next to it, arguing. One group wore traditional armour, and were armed with the long, vicious-looking daggers favoured by their race as well as with a few blaster rifles. The other group was dressed in more civilian clothes.
They were shouting at each other in the N'Ptalini tongue, so Robert could only guess at what their argument was about. His skills with the language were sorely lacking even though he had made a point of learning at least some of it.
Thomar quickly made his way over to them, with T'lark and Robert trailing behind at a short distance.
When they noticed Thomar, there was a moment of stunned silence, until an older woman recognised him.
“T'mar?” she exclaimed, followed by a flood of N'Ptalini words, too quick for Robert to comprehend anything.
She wrapped Thomar in a tight embrace and from both their smiles, Robert deduced that this had to be the woman who had raised Thomar as her son. The other N'Ptalini joined in, apparently explaining what was going on.
Robert caught some words that he thought were referring to an attack or theft of some kind but he wasn't sure. He glanced questioningly at T'lark, who had remained next to him and was listening.
“A priestess has been kidnapped,” T'lark explained. “They were preparing to go free her but some of them think an attack would be unwise.”
He was probably leaving out important details, but Robert didn't ask. This was most certainly not something he wished to get involved in. Like most matters involving Thomar, it didn't look like he'd have a choice, though. The N'Ptalini group had noticed him and T'lark now and the woman who had hugged Thomar was gesturing towards them, clearly questioning him about them.
Robert didn't catch Thomar's answer. The reaction, however, was obvious. Suddenly they all went silent and looked from him to Thomar and back. He couldn't read their expressions well, but as far as he could tell, they ranged from shocked to outraged to plainly curious. So apparently, at least some of them disapproved that Thomar had brought his pet.
He watched with a sinking feeling as Thomar's surrogate mother purposefully walked over to them, pushing Thomar in front of her. She had been one of those with a rather shocked expression, but now, she put on a polite smile.
Robert had a brief moment to wonder if it would be appropriate to kneel when she stopped in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder in a greeting that Robert recognised as being reserved for honoured guests.
“I am pleased to meet my son's nar'sini,” she said. ”Welcome to the S'batha T'cla.”
While 'nar'sini' was a term Robert was familiar with, it certainly was not one he would have expected to hear as designating himself. In N'Ptalini culture, there were three different kinds of possible relationships. One was similar to human marriage, only it was mostly used for a union of monetary or political reasons. Another was something like a shield-mate oath, only the N'Ptalini version involved a lot more blood and sex. The last was a union of love, declaring another person 'nar'sini', which could loosely be translated as 'lifemate' or 'soulmate'.
Apparently, T'lark was as surprised, and they both gaped at Thomar who smiled back at Robert reassuringly and nodded. Probably, he had chosen the term to cut short any questions. Then again, Thomar rarely did anything without good reason and this left Robert with a decidedly uneasy feeling. Being the Duke's cherished pet was something he had slowly gotten used to and he now allowed himself to believe that there were real, deep emotional bonds between them. But this sudden declaration? How could he ever deal with something this significant?
He forcefully pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.
“It is an honour to meet Thomar's... T'mar's mother.”
***
“Okay, let me try to sum this up so I can be certain I fully understand the magnitude of stupidity you are proposing here.”
T'lark's voice held a mix of disbelief, despair and outrage that would have been hilarious if he hadn't been dead serious. If even T'lark didn't like the plan, it had to pretty insane.
“You are going to dress up as a Verata priest and charm your way into their monastery to find that N'Ptalini girl and miraculously rescue her.”
“She is not some girl,” Thomar interrupted him with cold calm. “Her name is M'leah, and she is my friend. I will no more leave her to the Veratas' tender mercies than I would abandon you or Robert.”
They were sitting around the small fireplace in the kitchen of Thomar's mother, who had been introduced as K'laui. Each of them had been supplied with a mug of steaming hot tea, brewed from local herbs. Thomar's mother was leaning against the wall next to the fireplace with a deep frown. She didn't look happy with Thomar's plan, either.
“I spoke against the young warriors' plan to attack the monastery,” she said now, “and I don't see how yours is better.”
Thomar sighed in what Robert recognised as his 'I'm surrounded by idiots' tone. “Let me explain it,” he said, the remains of his patience only a fine veneer over his determination. “There is a fleet of Belligra ships in orbit guarding that demon portal. If they hear about an attack on a Verata monastery, they will rain down death and destruction on this village and likely a few more for good measure and ask questions later, if at all. If however I – a human and the duke of this fucking ball of rock – sneak into that monastery and steal M'leah from under their nose, they will keep it very quiet.”
“So why don't you go all dukey and order them to release her?” T'lark asked a question which Robert could already guess the answer to. Sometimes, there were perks to being well versed in how politics worked, if by exposure only.
“Because that would mean going through official channels. They would deny having her and by the time I could force them to let me in, there would be no trace of her remaining,” Thomar supplied exactly the answer Robert had expected.
“You don't have a sliver of a chance to get into that monastery,” T'lark offered the objection that worried Robert the most as well. “They will know that you are lying.”
Thomar smirked. “I have a way with words. I thought you would have noticed by now. The trick is not to say anything that is a direct lie.”
“T'mar is right about that,” K'laui's words came reluctantly, but with a small smile around her lips as if she recalled young T'mar. “He might be the only one who does have a chance.”
T'lark looked from one to the other with increasing despair. “I can't let you walk in there alone! Do you have any idea what F'leer is going to do to me?”
Thomar turned to Robert and something in his sudden smile made his heart grow cold. “Ah, but I don't plan to go alone. In fact, I don't think I will be able to pull this off alone. I'll need Robert's help for that.”
“What?” The word came out of Robert as an undignified, scared squeak, but he didn't care.
Not that he had any reason to be surprised. After all, it was always him who got drafted into Thomar's mad schemes.
He watched with growing horror as Thomar reached out and took his hand. “Please. I need you,” his master and lover said softly, with a begging voice that could have melted a stone. “I promise it will work out.”
A desperate laugh escaped Robert. Of course he would beg and make it impossible to say no when he could just have demanded like any good master should.
“What the fuck do you need Robert for?!” T'lark interrupted.
For a moment, Robert couldn't place the emotion in his voice, but then he realised that it was genuine worry for him. T'lark didn't want him to get hurt and he sounded like he was willing to defend him even against his duke. It brought a small smile to Robert's face. If there was one thing he had never expected, it was to find himself with a N'Ptalini warrior for a friend.
“He's part of my disguise. He's going to be the reason why I'm there at all and he'll be intriguing enough for them to let us in.”
“Care to elaborate?” T'lark snapped at Thomar before Robert had a chance to phrase the question more politely.
“Oh, it's simple.” Thomar grinned in a way familiar to Robert. He was enjoying this. It was the same toothy grin he always showed when he was looking forward to fooling someone. “I will tell them that I have found a slave who is obviously lying, but his lies can't be detected. I'll have Robert tell them he is the duke's pet. They won't believe that. Undetectable lie. They won't be able to resist that mystery.”
At least he didn't expect any heroics from Robert. Of course, the plan was still utterly insane.
“That might actually work,” K'laui mused, while T’lark looked like he had swallowed something particularly vile.
Thomar turned back to Robert. “Will you help me with this? I will not order you to do it. I ask for your help and I will accept it if you refuse.”
This honesty and genuine care gave him fuzzy feelings all over. Of course, he was entirely incapable of refusing his master anything. If he had been asked to jump into the maw of a monster, he would have done so. Slavery didn’t do that to people, only love did. What a terrible, wonderful thing.
“I’ll help,” he said, slightly appalled at how weak and scared he sounded, and at the same time amused at being appalled by it. When had he stopped being the meek little scared pet and decided that being brave and strong were desirable traits? It must have been a sneaking change or he would have noticed it, reflected upon it, and tried to correct it. But apparently, it was too late now.
Thomar smiled at him and gratefully squeezed his hand.
“Bah, you are both insane!” T’lark exclaimed and threw his hands up in defeat.
“Aw, you are jealous you can’t come.” Thomar's teasing was rewarded with a murderous glare that clearly exposed how right Thomar was.
At that, Thomar showed mercy and turned his attention to K’laui. “Mother, do you have any idea why they went after M’leah? That monastery has been there forever and they haven’t bothered us in ages.”
The N'Ptalini shrugged. “We and them have pretty much ignored each other. Actually you and your merry band were the last to go near it.”
“We used to go there when we were younger,” Thomar explained at the questioning looks from Robert and T’lark, “It was a test of courage to see who would sneak up close enough to the walls of the monastery and write something on it.”
Robert couldn’t help but smile at the image of a boyish Thomar, running around with a bunch of feral N'Ptalini kids, getting into trouble. Probably tagging the monastery wall with some vulgar graffiti.
“From what we saw of them, it was mostly old priests,” Thomar continued, “I would guess the monastery to be something like a retirement home where Verata go to spend the last of their years in misery.”
“Well, the two priests who came and ambushed M’leah were definitely young and fit,” K’laui said. “I mean, they came with a hoverbike. Who has ever seen that up here and with a Verata on it no less? Aren’t they anti-tech or something?”
It made Robert wonder why they hadn’t come with hoverbikes and saved themselves the climb up the mountain, but he kept that complaint to himself.
“They used to be, but that’s long ago,” Thomar replied. “They have modernised and reformed a lot. Actually, they have been getting along well with the N'Ptalini, working together with priests of E'Yla. That’s why nowadays many of them run around with tattoos similar to your scutes.”
E'Yla was the N'Ptalini goddess of pain and truth. Robert had learned that her priests were responsible for giving ritual tattoos to each other and their followers in remembrance of important events in their lives, a gruesomely painful procedure that was a central part of N'Ptalini culture and history. Of course, the Verata would love copying that, weird as they were.
“M’leah serves E'Yla,” K'laui added.
“She does?” Thomar looked honestly impressed. “Wow, that’s great. She never told me which god she was going for.”
“Doesn’t explain why those priests would take her, though,” T’lark grumbled.
“No, but it might be useful that I know now.” Thomar got up from his seat. “Let’s see what we can put together for a convincing Verata outfit. The sooner we leave, the more likely we are to get to the monastery before nightfall.”
***
The ancient Verata monastery was nestled into the back of a small valley between looming mountains, all of them cast in a warm orange glow by the setting sun. The valley itself was an open meadow, dotted with a few clusters of trees. It looked peaceful, almost serene. Birds were singing their goodnight songs to the sun and Robert watched a pair of fat insects lazily drift from one tiny blossom to the other.
It would have been the perfect setting for a romantic picnic. Unfortunately, a picnic was off the table, no pun intended.
K’laui had done a splendid job in dressing up Thomar as a Verata. She had found them a long robe in dark red that looked worn and a little threadbare, including a hood. Though of course it was Thomar himself who made it work. He had slicked back his wavy hair, somehow managing to make it look thinning. Dark circles under his eyes and a little coal dust on his cheeks gave him a haggard look that was made more believable by his slightly stooped posture, one hand wrapped around a walking staff like a gnarly claw. He looked much older than he was and definitely like a Verata priest in a very bad mood. By now, Robert wasn’t surprised anymore by how easily his master slipped into different roles.
Robert had not been required to put on any costumes. His simple travel clothes worked just fine, Thomar had assured him, for a mysterious slave whose lies should puzzle the monks sufficiently to let them in.
It had taken them a little under three hours to get there, and Robert wanted to lie down and fall asleep where he stood. He was too old for this adventuring business. At least they hadn’t climbed any more mountains.
Just outside the valley, they had separated from T’lark who had refused to stay behind at the N'Ptalini village. Even if he couldn’t enter the monastery, at least he wanted to be close by in case they could use his help somehow.
Robert nervously fingered the spot where normally the amulet containing Alain would be. He had left it with T’lark. An amulet with unmistakably demonic magic was not something you took to a Verata monastery unless you wanted it confiscated. Its absence was making him nervous and fidgety.
“Ready?” Thomar asked next to him.
Trying to put on a brave smile, Robert looked at his master who so much didn’t look like himself. “No, absolutely not. But let’s do it anyway before I change my mind and run.”
The twinkle in Thomar’s eyes was familiar and reassuring, but quickly disappeared again.
“If anything goes wrong, stay behind me or hide. I know what I’m doing. Trust my lead, whatever I do.”
Robert nodded. The bad thing was that he did trust Thomar. No slave should ever trust a master, but this was also his lover. There was nothing but trust in his heart, foolish as that might be.
Together, they followed the path gently leading through the valley. It was a beautiful place. The trees turned out to be some sort of apple trees, apparently leftovers from a proper orchard, bearing lots of small, gnarly fruit. It would be a month or two before they ripened, but he had no trouble imagining a younger Thomar sneaking around here with his N'Ptalini friends, stealing apples.
He couldn’t help but wonder what that boy had been like, without the responsibilities of a duke and no threat of ever having to leave his village. Thomar seemed to be coping well enough and lately, he even seemed to enjoy his job. But that was the crux of it: being duke was a job to Thomar, a duty, not something he wanted to be. He seemed to completely lack that craving for power that Robert had found in most nobles he had met in his career as a pet. Probably, Thomar would have been happier with a life as a travelling conman or something equally adventurous and disreputable.
Robert preferred his safe position as a duke’s cherished pet. There was no question that he would have followed Thomar anywhere, but he doubted he would have liked it.
“Something is wrong,” Thomar’s voice was soft and his gaze fixed on the monastery up ahead. This close, the building looked looming and forbidding.
“What?” Robert didn’t care how scared he sounded. As if their plan weren’t insane enough. Now something additional was wrong?
“I’m not sure.” Thomar, in contrast, sounded calm and slightly puzzled. “It’s too dark. The monastery was always well lit at this hour. And ... I can’t really pinpoint it. I just know something is wrong.” He made a small, annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “Things could get very ugly very quickly in there. Be careful.”
Be careful? Robert groaned inwardly. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that advice?
But it was too late for questions.
They reached the heavy wooden gate of the monastery, apparently firmly locked. Thomar stepped right up to it and used his walking stick to knock. The sound felt way too loud, the heavy thuds ringing out like the clarion call of doom. For a while, nothing happened and Robert felt the ridiculous hope that no one would be home and they would turn around and leave.
Thomar was raising his staff to knock again when a small window set into the gate was opened and a male face with a decidedly hostile frown peered out at them.
“Yes?”
Robert expected Thomar to say something polite and launch into their cover story, but as usual, his master surprised him.
“About time!” Thomar snapped angrily, “What the fuck happened to hospitality around here! Brothers used to be welcome in these walls!”
The man’s expression turned from hostile to confused. “I... er...”
“Well, boy, what are you waiting for?! Open the gate!” Thomar ordered with the clear authority of someone used to being obeyed instantly – be it a duke or a priest.
Robert didn’t expect that approach to work, but once again it became obvious that Thomar was much more skilled at judging such situations. The face disappeared and they heard the sound of the gate hurriedly being unlocked. Thomar breathed a small sigh of relief next to Robert, but when the heavy gate was pulled open he was all indignant and bossy again, pushing inside before the person opening the gate could change their mind.
It turned out to be a young man in Verata robes, looking hostile but also overwhelmed.
Behind the gate, the central yard of the monastery was dark. No lights were lit at all.
“Where’s the abbot?” Thomar demanded, “And don’t give me some crap about him being busy!”
The Verata’s reaction looked strange even to Robert. He hastily glanced over his shoulder and ducked in a manner that spoke of a bad conscience and maybe fear. He was opening his mouth to reply something when another priest joined them, appearing out of the gloom like a spectre in the colour of dried blood.
“What is this ruckus about?” The new priest sounded a lot more confident than his younger colleague. His robes were the same simple, dark red cloth as the younger man’s, but he carried himself with an air of authority. “Who are you?”
Thomar turned to him and Robert felt panic rise in his throat. How was his master going to answer that question without lying?
“I am Brother Ishmael, Inquisitor of Temple Verata, travelling in the name of our Mother Church to find heretics and demonists.”
That was about the most blatant lie Robert could imagine. Thomar and the older priest stared at each other, and he felt the floor dropping away under them. The priest would know. The Verata always knew. And something terrible would happen.
“Very well. And what brings you to our doorstep at this hour, brother Ishmael?”
Robert managed to silence his gasp of surprise before it could escape his mouth. Impossible. This was entirely impossible. But somehow Thomar had pulled it off and would now present their story. Things would work out after all.
“Possible demon influence on this slave.” Thomar gestured vaguely in Robert’s direction, keeping all his attention focused on the priest. “Where is the Abbot?”
Why he wanted to see the abbot was beyond Robert. The more experienced Verata would be even more dangerous. He had no idea what Thomar was doing. Why wasn’t he sticking to the plan?
“The Abbot is indisposed.” The Verata appeared annoyed by the insistent question.
Thomar tensed up next to Robert, subtly shifting to a defensive stance.
“Not an outright lie, but not entirely true, either.” Thomar's voice was cold as ice and entirely even. ”What are you hiding?”
Once more, Robert felt like the world was doing a double flip. How could Thomar tell? Robert himself was reasonably good at reading people but he hadn’t suspected anything. Did the young Duke always know when someone was lying?
Robert would have loved to carefully consider the matter, but suddenly the loud hiss of a blaster shot rang out. At almost the same moment, a brilliant glare momentarily blinded him as the state-of-the-art energy shield around Robert sprang into action and harmlessly dissipated the shot.
The fact that he didn’t remember putting on any such shield and the panic at being shot at didn’t keep him from immediately dropping to the ground to find what little cover he could. Pet reflexes came in useful in such situations.
By the time his eyes had re-adjusted to the gloom of the yard, the scene had changed dramatically. The younger priest seemed to be the one who had fired the shot. He was now lying on the ground in a quickly spreading pool of blood, a throwing knife firmly embedded in his throat. The older priest was limping away across the yard, holding his thigh, leaving a trail of blood.
For a moment, Robert wasn’t able to locate Thomar, but an angry shout from the low roof of the stables to the right alerted him. Another priest and Thomar were on top of it, struggling near the edge, each trying to keep the other’s blaster pistol out of their face.
While every instinct and his master’s orders demanded he find a place to hide, some calm madness – probably induced by too much contact with a certain N'Ptalini warrior, made Robert creep over to where the dead priest lay. His hands were shaking as he picked up the dead man's blaster, but he did it anyway. He had never held such a weapon but had watched them handled enough by his various masters to know which end to point in which direction and where to find the trigger.
The screeching sound of a hoverbike starting up yanked his attention to the back of the yard. The wounded priest was clinging to the bike and slowly pulling it up.
With grim determination Robert raised the blaster pistol and took careful aim. It was a slow moving target and a big one at that, only a few meters above ground. How hard could it be? He fired the pistol. The brightly glaring plasma ball missed the bike, but the priest was now frantically trying to pull the vehicle to the left. The bike, however, was still in its start up routine and reacted only sluggishly. Robert adjusted his aim, his hands steady now. He fired again. This time, he hit the front of the bike, the blast leaving a section of the frontal engine block glowing a dull red. For a moment, the bike remained in the air, then its sounds died and it crashed backwards into the yard, burying the priest under a heap of immobile metal.
“Didn’t I tell you to be careful?” Thomar’s voice broke through Robert's concentration. He was standing at the edge of the roof with his hands on his hips, the third priest a crumpled figure by his feet.
“I was careful,” Robert called back, a giddy grin spreading on his face. His hands were shaking with excitement now, and he carefully aimed the blaster at the ground.
Thomar jumped off the roof, landing as if he never did anything else and came over to him, smiling with what Robert could only call pride. “Good shot,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed him, hot and sizzling and with all the passion Robert felt flare up in himself.
***
The central cavern of the S'batha T'cla was filled with the warm light from the bonfire burning in the central pit. There was music and laughter and the sound of many cheerful voices talking at once. The air was ripe with the smell of unfamiliar food. Robert wouldn’t have thought that the grim N'Ptalini could put together such a merry party.
They were celebrating the safe return of their priestess M’leah and of her rescuers.
After the fight in the yard, Thomar and Robert had searched the monastery. The whole place looked mostly deserted apart from a few rooms near the refectory which seemed to be lived in. In the cellar, they discovered the reason: the bodies of the former inhabitants, all of them murdered. Poisoned, Thomar declared, judging by the black tint of their lips.
In a small cell in the main building, they finally found M’leah, locked up and bound. She evidently had been tortured by the men who had taken over the monastery, but she didn’t seem fazed by it at all. Actually, she seemed rather amused by the whole episode to Robert. Maybe not too surprising, considering she served the goddess of pain. One had to be of a certain inclination to follow that particular goddess, after all.
Thomar, on the other hand, was furious until she managed to calm him down.
M'leah told them that the men were rogue priests who had been kicked out of the order for their radical views, hoping to return the Verata back to the way they had been before the great purge. They had tried to force M’leah to reveal “her secrets of power” to them. M’leah had no clue what they wanted, and even well-informed Thomar couldn’t add any insight.
He planned to inform the Archbishop of what had happened at the monastery and Robert guessed that he would use that opportunity to find out more.
Thomar patched up M’leah while Robert bravely ventured outside to find T’lark. In the yard, they found two more hoverbikes. With Thomar and T’lark flying them and Robert and M’leah riding behind, they made the return trip to the village much faster and Robert very much hoped they would use them again to get back to the glider when they went home. He was done with mountain trekking.
Being welcomed back like returning heroes who had slain the dragon and saved the princess was odd. For one, Robert didn’t feel like he had done much at all apart from shaking with fear, and M’leah didn’t fit the bill of damsel in distress at all. She wasn’t pretty or soft or gentle like the ladies in Robert’s romance novels. She was a tall, thin woman with a bony face and eyes that were much too deep and knowing for her age, and who made obscene jokes about her own torture.
After the initial rush of N'Ptalini thanking him for M’leah’s rescue, Robert had managed to withdraw from the central bonfire to a spot near the wall of the cavern where heaps of pillows and blankets formed cosy nests in which people settled to talk or eat.
Thomar, of course, remained at the centre of attention. The N'Ptalini considered him one of their own and were interested in everything that had happened to him since he had left the village. They treated him like a young warrior returned from a grand adventure, not like their duke, and Thomar clearly enjoyed it. Tired as Robert was, he didn’t mind that his master seemed to have all but forgotten about him. He loved seeing Thomar so happy and relaxed.
He had been surprised by the fact that the N'Ptalini respected his need for a little privacy. Occasionally, one of them would approach, politely offer thanks or an edible treat and leave him alone again.
After the exertions and excitement of the day, he could barely keep his eyes open, so he was startled when he was gently nudged by a foot.
“Are you asleep?”
He looked up and found M’leah smiling down at him. He blinked up at her a little owlishly.
“Mostly,” he replied, skipping all the proper subservience and politeness. He had tried that earlier and she hadn’t appreciated it at all.
She hunkered down next to him, thoughtfully chewing on her lower lip with sharp-looking, pointed teeth. “I wanted to thank you.”
Robert opened his mouth to tell her something appropriate, how he hadn’t done much and how Thomar had done all the heroic things, but she rolled her eyes at him.
“Not for rescuing me, silly. I know you didn’t do that for me, but for T’mar. You don’t even know me.”
Her assessment was spot on, so Robert closed his mouth.
“I want to thank you for everything you are doing for T’mar. He is my friend and I was deeply worried about him when they took him away to live among humans, all on his own. I know, he has some of us as bodyguards to guard his back, but ... you care for him. And what is more important, you give him something to care about. I can’t explain it well, but I think you are very good for him.” She shrugged, clearly dissatisfied with her little speech. ”So anyway, thank you.”
Robert had no clue what to answer, so he said the obvious, safe thing, “You’re welcome.”
That apparently wasn’t the right thing to say as M’leah frowned at him. Only when she realised he wasn’t mocking her in some way, her expression softened again.
“You are a strange human. I could almost like you.”
Before Robert could reply anything to that dubious compliment, she had already gotten up and walked away without another word. And she was calling him strange.
He sighed and tiredly rubbed his face. With the party in full swing and everybody happily occupied, there seemed to be no need to try and stay awake. Comfortably resting against soft, furry pillows with a warm blanket draped over him, he allowed his eyes to drift shut.
It felt like only a few moments had passed when he was woken up by the feeling of someone insistently prodding him until a warm body was able to snuggle up against him. When he opened his eyes, the light in the cavern had dimmed considerably, the bonfire burned down to glimmering embers. It was Thomar, of course, who had snuck under his blanket and was now cuddled up to him, his head resting on Robert’s chest and one leg entwined with his.
He smelled of smoke and odd food, but underneath there was the familiar scent Robert had come to associate with the feeling of safety.
Carefully, he rearranged the blanket around him so they were both covered.
“Sorry,” Thomar murmured, half asleep already, “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“I’m hardly awake.”
“Mmh.” Thomar burrowed a little closer and sighed happily.
Was this real? Or was he dreaming? His master came to sleep in his arms, all warm and happy and relaxed. Thomar cared for him.
Cared for him more than he had thought, actually, Robert reminded himself. After all he hadn’t introduced him as his pet but as his nar'sini. Had he really meant that or had it just been a convenient explanation? Maybe now would be a good time to bring up that question, but Robert wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The illusion that his owner saw that much more than a mere pet in him was enticing, but daunting as well. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to be more. Not knowing meant no obligations.
Luckily, Thomar’s breathing was already evening out. Little wonder he was falling asleep instantly, he had to be exhausted.
So questions and answers would have to wait for another day when Robert had had more time to consider what it was that he wanted to hear and how to deal with maybe not hearing any of it. After all, there was no need to hurry.