Omniphage Invasion
by
Claudette Gilbert

SmashWords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Claudette Gilbert

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Chapter 1:  Jak
Big and broad-shouldered, no one came near the lean, scar-faced stranger who sat alone in a dim corner of the bar.  His name was Jak and nothing more.  He had no family name, no clan to claim, and on Shadriss that made him less than nothing.  His clothing attested to his poverty—scuffed boots, work pants, and a vest worn for the sake of its pockets.  Worse, his red hair and green eyes marked him as alien among the dark, slight people of Shadriss.  
Shadriss had been a thriving colony once, although there were few signs of that now.  That had been nearly four generations ago, when the Confederacy ruled the region.  Today, all was a failing mix of old Confederacy technology and barbarism.  If not for the trade in ancient alien artifacts, there’d be no starships landing here at all.  
Jak eyed the crowd warily as he sipped his mug of the Regent’s ale, given free this feast day to honor the coming mating of the Twin Moons.  In two weeks both moons—children of Nish, the war god—would be full in the night sky, and Leath, the male moon, would eclipse Liss, his sister, in the mating.  It was easily the most important date on the calendar of Shadriss.  Even more, this particular mating marked the Joining of the young Prime with the God Core and his elevation to Overlord of Shadriss.
Jak squinted against the multicolored light from the holo screens that flickered throughout the bar.  Mounted on the dozen pillars that held up the two stories overhead, the screens showed scenes of the ongoing ceremonies that preceded the Joining.  The ever-changing images cast colored light on painted faces, cascades of dark curls, and slim-fingered hands that Jak knew would be equally quick to grip a knife or to pick a pocket. 
The Pit was a dive; the kind of bar where many went in and some never came out, but no one there bothered Jak.  The long scar that ran from right temple to left cheekbone pulled up his lip in a permanent snarl so that what had never been more than a passable face was now something too ugly to look at for long.  
Tonight, the Twins were full, abet still two weeks from the eclipse of their annual mating, or so the priests told it.  Mating moons or too much free ale, it seemed to Jak that tonight everyone in the Pit was a little edgier, a little louder than usual.  Like most of the people in the city of Namdrik, Jak had come here for his share of the feast day bounty.  He was out of credits and out of options.  He’d long since passed through anger and despair into numb acceptance.  Now, as he approached what he was sure would be his last days in this life, he watched and waited, hoping to see the one person he cared about on this forgotten ball of dirt.  
While he waited, he pretended to watch the holos.  He’d rather have see  the usual sport and sex shows, but today all the screens showed multiple views of the ceremonies taking place in the temples, especially in the capital city of Tekena.  For nearly two thousand years, since the first settlements rose on Shadriss, the priests in their temples had celebrated this festival.  The nearest screen showed the Regent of Shadriss, dressed in n’Chall blue and wearing the traditional wide-brimmed had with its veiling cascade of silver beads.  The man hidden beneath the costume poured offerings of water, wine, and ale over the head of the statue of sweet Lady Ur.  No doubt, the goddess needed the bath.  In Namdrik, the river Ur reeked of the sewage that washed from the Great Market, where the merchants set up their tents each day and left their trash to be sluiced into the Ur each night.  Tekena, home of the Black Palace of the Overlord, would be no sweeter.  
Jak didn’t believe in the Lady Ur, the Great Nish, or even the Lost Gods whose worshipers were dust and whose names were forgotten.  Those deities seemed too small, their priests too involved in unending power struggles to have any meaning for the likes of him.  He watched the crowd and smiled a little with an irony too bone-deep to be bitter, while bits of other lives fluttered through his mind like leaves on the wind.  Only his own past remained hidden from him.  If ever he could remember who he was, where he’d come from, maybe he’d remember a god he could believe in.  For now, he’d give lip service to the gods of Shadriss and enjoy the free ale their priests provided.
He took another careful sip, grimacing at the taste of the dregs of the murky liquid in his tankard.  He wished they’d hand out food instead.  He was hungry, but with no money to spend, he’d stay that way.  He was stranded on Shadriss, a one-port cesspool with no use for a down-on-his-luck pilot.  Or no use that Jak was desperate enough to agree to.  
Jak raised his empty tankard, gesturing to a passing priest of Nish.  A belly full of ale was better than a belly full of nothing.  Red robed from head to foot, black cloth mask covering his face—or maybe her face, Jak couldn’t tell—the priest moved toward his table.  He held a ladle in one black gloved hand and a bucket of ale in the other.  Without speaking, the priest poured one scant ladle into Jak’s tankard.  
"Is that all?" Jak demanded.  If they were going to give alms, they could at least do so with a free hand.  "Is Nish running out of worshipers?  Is the temple so broke you can’t provide a full tankard?"  Okay, maybe he wasn’t so resigned to his fate as he’d thought.  Challenging a red-robe was likely to lead to a knife in his throat, at best.
Jak saw a flash of eyes behind the mask as the priest glared at him, then began ladling ale into the tankard.  He didn’t stop until the ale slopped over Jak’s fingers and onto the floor.  Then he stood back, glaring silently from behind the mask as if daring Jak to ask for more.
"To the honor of Nish," Jak said.  He smiled, leaning forward into the light so the priest could see him clearly.  With his scarred face, his twisted smile frightened children.  Add red hair and green eyes—demon hair and demon eyes here on Shadriss—and he was enough to make grown men pause in their tracks.  Hastily, the priest stepped back and turned to find another thirsty worshiper.
Jak sat back, his grin fading along with his anger.  He was in trouble, but that was nothing new.  Four years were all he remembered of his own life, four years trapped on Shadriss.  In that time, he’d been in danger more often than not.  The memories of other lives that drifted through his mind often ended in death, so maybe now it was his turn to take that final journey.  
He scowled as he rubbed work worn fingers over the side of his jaw.  The scar that slashed across his face was just one among many.  He had other scars, no doubt from fights and accidents, from battles he couldn’t recall.  The memories that sometimes swept over him were fragments of other people’s lives, not his own.  He’d discovered that strong emotion was the trigger:  fear, anger, even love.  It was as if the feelings woke some echo in his soul.  When they came, the memories swept him up into other times, other places, into other lives.  For the time that he was caught, Jak was that other person—man or woman, young or old—and his own life was gone as if it had never been.  He’d never told anyone about the memories, about the difference in himself that he called the strangeness, not even his beautiful, clever Tessa.  
He’d come here hoping to see her, at least for a while.  She’d told him earlier that she might stop in at the Pit tonight.  Even as Jak thought of her, he saw her step into the room like a dancer stepping onto the stage.  The sleeveless sapphire silk dress she followed her lithe figure like a caress.  A shawl of blue swirls embroidered with gold wrapped her shoulders.  Most of the men and many of the women watched her walk across the floor to where Jak sat.  Despite the dim and flickering lighting of the bar, she went to him as directly as if he were sitting under a spotlight.  Sometimes, he had the feeling that she could find him no matter how dark the corner where he hid.  
"Hello, Jak, sweet man." 
She bent to kiss his cheek in greeting, and her dark hair brushed his face.  He was caught in the scent of her perfume, a scent like the first flowers of spring when the river Ur ran high, and memories welled up in him.  
I am a young man lying on the grass with my first love in my arms beneath me.  I smell the scent of her, and it is the scent of springtime, of green growing things, their sap full of sunlight, and moist earth where countless tiny lives churned to make it fertile.  Her skin is warm and soft and wondrous.  She smiles at me as I bend to kiss her.
Then Jak shook himself and was back in the Pit as Tessa slid gracefully into the chair next to him.  He was glad that she hadn’t noticed his lapse.  At least her scent had stirred only a brief fragment of memory.  
Tessa was Veloran, from a colony that had spent the past fifty generations breeding for perfect beauty.  She’d told Jak that by the standards of her people, she was badly flawed; but for him, just looking at her was enough to stop his breath in awe.  With an elegant motion, she shook back the jeweled bracelets that banded her left arm from wrist to elbow.  They were the mark of her profession, gifts from her clients, and their number and quality showed her high standing.  She was a courtesan, a Hired Companion of the first rank, once a slave, then a brothel girl, then a well-paid, much-desired companion.  Now, she could choose her customers and the services she provided them.  Jak had never been able to understand why, when she could have anyone she wanted, she had chosen a man like him for her friend.  For reasons of her own, she’d dragged his wounded body out of the alley where she’d found him and then nursed him back to health.  
And of course, Jak loved her.
Chapter 2:  Tessa
There he was, sitting in the shadows on the far side of the room.  Tessa let out a small sigh and smiled to hide her relief.  Never let fear show; she’d learned that rule early and well.  She crossed the crowded room to him, ignoring the noise and the flashes of light from the holos.  People who recognized her smiled and called out with invitations to join them.  Tessa shook her head and made a pretty face that managed to combine thanks with regretfully declining the invitation.  She wove between dancers and priests until she reached the table where Jak waited.  
As always, her eyes first went to his pilot’s medallion, gleaming golden on the smooth, tan skin of his bare chest.  A pilot, her own personal pilot; he’d always been her one small chance of escaping this dead-end existence.  Tonight, he was her only protection from the trouble she’d brought on herself.  She felt as if she were being stalked by a moki, as if she’d fallen into the Ur and was swimming just ahead of a school of ravenous banderri.  No, it was worse than that, much worse.
She sat down and her smile widened as Jak reached behind his head to tighten the leather thong that held back his red hair, as if that might make his unkempt mane presentable.  He wore it long, Shadriss-style, although he omitted the beads and braids and colored ribbons the dandies sported.  He’d never told her how he felt about her, but Tessa knew anyway.  It was her business to know how men felt.  Dark and slender, as graceful as a snake and just as deadly, she knew the effect she had on men.  She looked over at the big man with the ugly, scar-ruined face.  She needed Jak, but it was just business.  That was all she would permit herself to feel.
"I’m hungry enough to eat a lamnan whole," Tessa said as she took the chair across from him.  With him, she avoided the sophisticated banter that she used with her clients.  She allowed herself to speak like the simple girl she’d been before the slavers took her.  "How about you?  Have you eaten?"
Jak grinned, clearly amused at the vision of her eating one of the huge, six-legged hauling lizards.  
"I’ve had enough," he lied.  
"No doubt that was yesterday."  Why was he so stubborn about taking a little help from her?  "Or maybe it was the day before.  You haven’t had much work for the past couple of months."
She knew he couldn’t argue with that.  She was still unhappy that he’d insisted on leaving her care.  And even though he’d had a hard time surviving on his own, he seldom let her help him.  It made it harder for her to keep track of him.  She wanted him to be dependent on her, but Jak seemed to take some stubborn pride in doing everything for himself.  Still, he looked grateful when she beckoned to a thin, nervous boy who hurried over.  
Tessa ordered enough food for both of them.  More than enough, actually.  She had to break herself of this urge to take care of Jak.  Annoyed with herself, she scanned the crowd while they waited for their dinner.  She was very aware that while she watched the others, Jak watched her.  It brought her an odd sense of pleasure, very different from what she felt when she knew she had a client’s regard.  How could she expect to manipulate this man when she couldn’t even keep control of her own feelings?
A passing priest of Nish poured a tankard of ale for Tessa and topped off Jak’s drink.  The priest seemed strangely wary of the big foreigner.
"What have you been doing to the red-robes?"
He made innocent eyes at her.  "Not a thing," he said.  "I just asked for a full measure in my tankard, and I got one."  He took a drink and returned her question.  "And what have you been doing?  I thought the festival was one of your busy times."
"Oh, it is."  She rearranged her shawl and touched the bracelets that covered her left forearm.  When she was alone, she sometimes counted them.  "I’m meeting someone here later tonight.  I just wanted . . . ."
Her voice trailed off.  This wasn’t how she’d planned to approach her problem.  She was glad to see the boy arrive then with their plates and a platter of steaming lamnan filled full almost to overflowing.  Tessa smiled at him.  He blushed as he set the platter down.
"For you pleasure, mistress."
Their waiter was young, but he was man enough to react to her and see that she had the best of service.  Then, she turned back to Jak and, even over the sounds of the bar, she heard Jak’s stomach growl when he smelled the spicy meat with its peppery red sauce.  She was sure that he hadn’t expected to eat today.  The sight and scent of the food distracted him from their conversation, and Tessa could only be glad.  She’d do this her own way once he’d been fed and was feeling grateful.
"I’ve been thinking," Jak said.  He fingered his threadbare vest trying to sound casual, as he swallowed with a gulp that was half hunger, half nerves.
"That’s unusual," Tessa teased as she heaped food from the platter onto his plate and then a more modest serving onto hers.  
"Actually, I came here tonight to say goodbye to you."  
Tessa’s well-groomed eyebrows arched in surprise, and her hand stopped halfway to her plate.  "Goodbye?  You’ve found a ship, a berth?"  He was leaving her?  Her pilot was leaving?  No, no, no!  She needed Jak.  He was the one person on all of Shadriss who would help her.  Only years of training and her stubborn will kept the expression of dismay off her face.
Jak shook his head and took up his fork, waiting for her to start before he began eating.  
"No berth.  No one on this backwater planet wants to hire a starship pilot.  No more moki hunters either."
"I’ve heard that you were a most excellent guide."  
If he didn’t have a berth, where was he going?  Where could he go?  
"I did all right when hunting in the Waste was in fashion," he said.  
Tessa remembered to take a bite of her own food, and Jak was silent for a few moments as he eased his hunger.  The rich, spicy meat was like sand in Tessa’s mouth, but Jak had plenty of appetite.  Yes, she thought, it had been a couple of days since he’d had a full belly.  She watched the light from the nearest holo as it flickered over his scarred face, hiding the devil green of his eyes and demon red of his hair.  That coloring caused him problems on Shadriss, she knew, marked him out immediately as someone to keep at a distance. Then he swallowed a final bite of the lamnan and leaned back in his seat.
"But that’s finished now," he continued.  "The young lords are tired of risking their lives stalking moki.  They’d rather hunt things that don’t hunt back.  No more wearing moki fangs around their necks to show everyone how tough they are.  And part of me is glad that’s over.  Killing moki for their meat and hides is one thing; slaughtering the lizards to make ornaments from their teeth and leaving the carcass to rot is just wrong."  
He paused to take a drink from his tankard.  Tessa found herself nervously fingering her bracelets and had to force herself to stop.  Refusing to give in to her rising panic, she pasted a look of polite inquiry on her face and waited to hear what he had to say.
"Tessa, I haven’t had a job as a guide for weeks.  Nobody wants unskilled labor.  That’s me, in case you didn’t recognize the description."  He smiled at her, and the scar twisting it into a sneer.  "I don’t know how to do a damn thing that’s considered useful on this low-tech world.  So, I’m going to head down river and hire out as labor to the farmers."
"Please, don’t go, Jak.  Working for the farmers will only last until the crops are in, if that long."  
No, she ordered herself, don’t beg!  But she would not allow him to do this.  She took another bite of lamnan and forced herself to swallow it.  She knew what it was like to be an outsider.  People on Shadriss considered her beautiful, but on her home world, it was a different story.  
The colony on Velora had been founded to breed for a very specific type of beauty, and her sapphire blue eyes were too far from the desired gray-blue, her black hair was too dark, and she was much too short to meet the standards of her people.  Any one of those imperfections might have been allowed to pass as an unfortunate blemish, but all three together were too much to bear, or so her father had thought.  
With an effort of will, Tessa brought her thoughts back into their usual disciplined order.  The past was gone; she lived in the present.  And if she wanted to keep on living, she had to talk Jak out of this absurd idea.  It was suicide!  They would both die!
 "I need you here.  Really, I do."
Oh, wonderful, Tessa, she chided herself; you’re as subtle as a lamnan cow in heat.  She put one hand on his wrist and saw him catch his breath.  So much emotion, she thought, just from a simple touch.  She ignored the way her own heart beat faster.  Jak’s words come out in a growl.
"I don’t want your charity, Tessa.  And when work for the farmers runs out, I’ll find something else."
But they both knew he was lying.
"It isn’t charity I’m offering," she said.  
His pride was going to kill them both.  She tightened her hold on the heavy bones of his wrist.  He was big, he was strong, and she needed his help.  She’d planned to tease him into helping her, to trick him if she had to.  What was she thinking?  This was Jak.  He didn’t understand anything but honesty.  
"I’m in trouble, Jak," she blurted, "bad trouble."
"What do you mean?"  She had his full attention now, and he’d stopped talking about finding work among the farmers.
"It’s Bolon," she said.  "He wants me to be his mistress.  He offered me an exclusive contract, luxury apartment, plenty of spending money, and no other clients."  She looked at Jak, her sapphire eyes defiant.  "I told him he couldn’t buy five minutes of my time."
"You turned down an exclusive contract with the Regent’s bastard?"  
Tessa nodded.
Oh yes, she had.  Bolon was the bastard son of the Regent, Graff n'Chall.  Bolon ruled the criminal underworld of Shadriss while his father reigned over the rest from the Black Palace at Tekena.  She’d known the big man was used to getting his own way, but she’d never thought that he’d react so violently to her rejection.  Now, Jak was the only thing that stood between her and Bolon’s wrath.
"Bolon is a big man, bigger even than you.  But inside, where it counts, he’s small and twisted.  There’s no way I’ll ever let him touch me."  
The underworld leader had always been always odd, but these past few years he’d gone from cold to outright crazy.  She’d tried to avoid him, but her business depended on her being noticed.  She had a corps of people who were paid to talk about her, about the beautiful, the clever, the daring Tessa.  She chose her clients with care, and she made sure that they appreciated the privilege of being able to buy her time.  She would not be Bolon’s mistress.
"I’m a free woman now, not a slave," she said, as much to herself as to Jak.  
Once again, she ran her fingers over the many, jeweled bracelets that nearly covered her left forearm.  Not a slave, she repeated to herself, not a slave any longer.  She might sell access to her body on occasion, but it was her body to sell or not, as she chose.
"But you’ve really pissed him off."
"Oh, yes.  He was very angry."  She’d expected Bolon to be angry.  What she hadn’t expected was homicidal rage, a seething blackness that threatened to destroy her.  "He didn’t say anything, just went quiet, and then started playing with one of his toys."  
Tessa took another drink from her tankard, making a moue at the bitter taste.  
"Just watching him play with those children’s toys gives me the shudders.  There’s something seriously wrong with that man."
And all that wrongness was aimed at her.  She reached out and took Jak’s hand in both of hers.  His hand was warm, the skin roughened by work.  
"I need a bodyguard.  I need you, Jak.  You’re smart, when you take the trouble to use your brains.  You’re quick, and I’ve never seen anyone who can match you for strength."
Jak shook his head, but he didn’t pull away from her.  
"Tessa, I’m only one man.  Bolon has his whole gang.  n’Tau alone is probably more than I can handle."
Tessa frowned.  n’Tau the Gambler was Bolon’s right hand man and one of the deadliest fighters in crime lord’s organization.  Could n’Tau kill Jak?  Another flash of fear went though her, but she shook it off.  Jak didn’t give himself enough credit.  She needed Jak’s protection.  He owed her his life.  She’d found him.  She’d nursed him back to health.  Never mind that it had been the sight of his pilot’s medallion—gleaming atop the wash of blood—that led her to order the ground-car driver to bring him to her apartment.  He had to help her!
"You’re more than you think," she insisted.
She didn’t say that he was more than he would admit.  She’d spent enough time with Jak to know that his strength and his ability to heal went far beyond normal limits.  He thought she hadn’t noticed, but Tessa made it her business to notice everything.  The downside was that at times his mind seemed simply to go offline, as if he went somewhere else.  But that didn’t matter.  He was all she had, and she wasn’t going to give him up.
"Your only real protection is to leave Shadriss," Jak told her.  "There’s no place here where you’ll be out of Bolon’s reach, no way that I can protect you from his gang."
"Leave?"  She heard herself give a harsh, high laugh.  "I’d love to leave Shadriss."  He had no idea how much she wanted to leave this backwater world.  "But by the time I buy passage on one of the passenger ships—assuming that one comes through the port before Bolon finds me—I’ll have used every credit have.  There’s no way I’m going to leave myself stranded in a strange place without two credits to click together."
"You’re a courtesan of the first rank.  Maybe they’d call it something else on another world, but you’re still a prize.  It wouldn’t take long for you to establish yourself in a new city."
"Jak, it’s sweet to know you have such a high opinion of me, but it takes both time and money to do what you suggest."  
Fleeing Shadriss would mean abandoning years of careful development of her business.  She would rather be dead on Shadriss than live as a beggar elsewhere.
"Please, you don’t have to battle Bolon’s entire gang.  And Bolon will probably forget about me in a month or two.  So, until then, just be around when I leave my apartment and make them more cautious.  That’s not so much is it?"
She didn’t add that she would pay him for his services.  Best not to invoke that stubborn pride.  Bolon was afraid of Jak.  She didn’t know why, but she read men well enough to be certain of it.  If Bolon was afraid, his men would be cautious as well.  Having Jak’s protection wasn’t a perfect solution, but it might buy her enough time to think of something better.
"All right, lady," Jak said.  "For whatever I’m worth, you’ve got yourself a bodyguard."
Tessa smiled with a flash of dazzling white teeth and blue eyes.  
"I thank you," she said, taking his hand in hers again.  "You need only stay with me a little while longer tonight.  I’m meeting a client here later.  He’s a High Lord, and I’ll be safe enough in his company for the night.  But come to my place in the morning, and we can work out a schedule.  I don’t want to make you feel like you’re shackled to me."
"Being shackled to you would be a pleasure," Jak said.  
Tessa allowed herself a small sigh of relief.  He wasn’t going to leave her.  Not yet.  
They sat for a few minutes in silence, Tessa watching the holos, watching the crowd, and Jak watching Tessa.  She was still holding his hand.  She told herself that she was doing it to cement his promise, but she couldn’t deny the sense of warmth and safety that just touching Jak gave her.  Around them, the noise level rose as the crowd grew thicker and drunker on the Regent’s ale.  Finally, Tessa made herself squeeze his hand once and let go.  She knew that he would do anything she asked.  
Anything.  
Chapter 3:  Jak
His skin still tingled from her touch.  His plan to work for the farmers forgotten, Jak just wanted to take Tessa and run with her to a place where he could keep her safe, where he could take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her.  He was sure she knew how he felt, but he was also sure she didn’t return his feelings.  He was a fool even to dream that she might care about a landless, clanless man.  The best he could offer was to do exactly as she’d asked—protect her from Bolon.  
Jak looked away from Tessa, scanning the crowd for something to distract him before he made a complete fool of himself by blurting out what he was feeling.  He watched as a woman passed by them, one who looked as out of place in the Pit as one of the silver and green birds that the nobles kept in their gardens.  She wore a dress of some shimmering pale stuff that floated around her body as she walked.  He couldn’t tell the color of the cloth in the flickering light of the holos.  But it was the sort of dress, Jak imagined, that women wore in the Black Palace among the nobles of the Regent’s court.
"Kamura Mobutu, a Daughter of Family Mobutu, one of the Thousand Families of Terra," Tessa said, sharp-eyed as ever.
Jak wasn’t surprised that she’d noticed the woman too, or that she knew her name and rank.  The Terran was a head taller than Tessa and built like a young athlete at the peak of her training.  She wore her long hair in a fall of tight curls that framed her smooth, coffee-colored face.  It was a lovely face, but the disdainful twist to her full lips made Jak find her less than beautiful.  He watched her as she looked over the crowd with eyes that were large, dark, and willful.  As he gazed at her, memories came upon him, drifting out of other lives as they did so often when his own heart was in turmoil.  In his mind, he saw other women and the grief they left behind like the scent of their skin.  
I watched the woman I loved walking away from me, smiling as she moved gracefully into the arms of another.  My beautiful wife was leaving me for a man old enough to be her father, the Satrap of a province.  I was just a simple farmer, and her new lover was richer than I could ever hope to be.  Her laughter was a dagger in my heart . . . .
By the Lost Gods, yes, this one was sure to bring trouble wherever she went.  He looked away from the woman and shook off the memories.  The Pit was not a place to be caught dreaming.
"So, what does that mean, Daughter of the Thousand Families?"  Jak asked.  He didn’t care, but it gave Tessa a chance to talk about something other than Bolon, and listening to her would help him stay grounded.  
"They’re a trading cartel on Terra, or at least that’s how they started.  Now, they run the whole planet.  Very respectable.  Very dull.  They use the title ‘Daughter’ or ‘Son’ the way we use ‘High Lord’ or ‘Lady’ on Shadriss."
"But you told me once that Terra was run by a Council of Elders?"  
"And all the Elders are members of the Thousand Families," Tessa said, her attention on the woman.  "I wonder what she’s doing here."
He gave the Terran woman a second, more thoughtful look.  Then he stiffened.
"n’Tau is with her."
Tessa shifted in her seat so she could see the woman’s companion.  
"You’re right.  The Gambler is keeping company above his station."
What in the name of the Lady Ur was this woman of the Thousand Families doing in the company of Bolon’s favorite lieutenant?  How had she wound up in a den like the Pit?  
n'Tau the Gambler was notorious for his cruelty, even on Shadriss.  The gaming rooms on the upper stories of the Pit were among his favorite haunts, but those who won too much of his money had a way of disappearing.  He was Bolon’s enforcer, a man who killed for pleasure.  
Still, he didn’t look like a thug.  Tonight, the Gambler was dressed in a dark silk tunic and pants.  The fabric rippled with rich highlights as he moved, and a heavy golden chain flashed around his neck.  He and the Terran woman made a well-dressed, seemingly well-matched pair.
"Most likely, she won’t live out the night," Tessa continued, "and anyone who sees them together would be smart not to remember it."
Tessa turned away, taking her own advice.  Circumstances had hardened her heart to any care beyond herself and one or two precious others.  Jak understood that coldness, but he had too many deaths locked away in the ruined storehouse of his memory.  He couldn’t value another life so lightly.
"Somebody should warn her about n’Tau," he murmured, but Tessa didn’t hear him over the noise of the holos and the babble of the crowd.
"Duty calls, darling," Tessa said, her eyes on a slender, well-dressed man who had just entered the Pit.  His tight braids and black curls were groomed to perfection.  Jewels gleamed in his hair, on his hands, and at his ears.  He stood by the bar, scanning the crowd with an intent and impatient expression.  Two bodyguards and a thin, nervous looking assistant waited behind him.  
Tessa rose and straightened her shawl with a sigh.  
"The High Lord Cav is here.  Time for me to go be charming and sexy."
"Be careful, Tessa."  
He looked again at the High Lord’s bodyguards.  Cav n’Chall was first cousin to the Regent of Shadriss, second only to the young Prime, Luan n’Chall, who would be Overlord the next time the Twin Moons were together in the sky—if he lived that long.  Meanwhile, Cav n’Chall was third in line to the throne.  Would Bolon, Regent’s bastard that he was, dare interfere with a legitimate member of the House of n’Chall?  
"Maybe I should tag along with the rest of the party," Jak suggested.
"Thanks for the offer, but my client would never stand for it.  I’ll see you in the morning."
She leaned across the table to kiss Jak’s cheek, then rose and went to the waiting man.  Jak watched as they embraced, the man whispering something in Tessa's ear.  He fought down a slow burn of jealousy that he knew he had no right to feel.  Tessa was his friend and sometimes his patron, but he had no claim on her.  Still, he scowled as Tessa laughed, linked her arm with the High Lord’s, and left the Pit with him.
She’d left most of her tankard of ale and there was still plenty of lamnan, so Jak stayed, no longer hungry but forcing himself to eat while he had the chance.  There was no telling when he’d find his next meal.  He just wished he could calm the fear that soured his stomach.  
Tessa was in danger, and to tell the truth, he wasn’t sure that he could be much protection for her.  Despite the strength the strangeness gave him, he was only one man.  He still thought that her best course was to get off the planet, no matter what the cost, but she’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to start over alone on a strange world, among strange people.  
Shadriss was no prize.  The planet was dry, except for a few long rivers like the Ur, and the desert produced a hard, merciless people.  There was little law, and much death.  With Tessa’s help, he’d survived four years on Shadriss—four years in which he couldn’t afford to ship out as a passenger and couldn’t find work as crew.  
Jak knew he could pilot a starship.  He touched the pilot’s medallion that hung from a long chain around his neck.  It was his was proof.  It looked like a jewel, a topaz set in a circle of gold; but it was coded to his DNA.  Take it away from his skin, and it would be dust in a day.  If he closed his eyes, he could see consoles, feel controls.  He’d piloted everything from big cargo-movers to small, fast scouts.  He could remember how, but he couldn’t remember when.  He growled and shoved the platter away from him.
Four years ago, Tessa had found him in an alley with the front of his head split open and the pilot’s medallion still live around his neck.  He had no memory of that day or of anything else from his past, but that’s what she’d told him.  He knew his name was Jak, but he remembered nothing more.  For reasons she wouldn’t give, she’d had her driver pull him into her ground-car, and then had smuggled him into a room near her apartment.  At first he’d thought that she did it because she knew him, that they’d shared some past together, but he knew now that wasn’t so.  
Lately, he’d come to think it might have been an act of rebellion, well in keeping with her reckless nature.  Someone had wanted him dead.  Did Tessa know who?  Did she suspect?  Had she saved him to defy his would be murderer?  Or had she just given in to a momentary weakness, and helped a man too wounded to help himself?  He’d asked, but after the third time she’d given him a flip answer he’d realized she wasn’t going to tell him the truth.  Her reasons were her own, and he might never know them. 
For Jak, time began on the day he’d opened his eyes in the small room Tessa had rented for him near her apartment.  His own memories were few, but there were dozens of other lives to draw upon.  Yet somehow, even then, he’d known that those other memories were too dangerous a secret to share.  Using Tessa’s com, he’d accessed the poor excuse for a port computer to try to find out if it held any information linked to the pilot number shown on his medallion, but nothing came up.  Either the database was too old or too corrupt to find the information, or he’d arrived on Shadriss as a passenger, not crew.
He stayed in the city of Namdrik because it contained the only starship landing field on the planet, but most of the ships that frequented the port belonged to local nobles.  He had no chance of work with them.  They used only servants from their own lands.  So far, the few traders who came to the port all had arrived with full crews.
He was bound to this desert world and its intrigues; it would be his grave just as, in a way, it had been his birthplace.  He leaned back in his seat, resting his lamnan hide work boots on the chair that Tessa had abandoned.  His gaze went to the nearest holo where someone was talking about the ceremony that would be held when the Twins next mated.  The Joining, they called it, when the boy who’d lived the past four years under the Regent’s care, the Prime Luan n’Chall, would be linked with the God Core and become the Overlord of Shadriss.  
And just what did that mean?  Jak wondered.  People here talked about the event as though its meaning were obvious.  But Jak saw nothing obvious about linking a boy—well, a young man of fifteen or so—with a piece of alien technology that no one really understood.  As the tale went, Lingyang n’Chall, the first Overlord was the woman who’d figured out how to do it, and she’d passed her knowledge and the device on to the care of the priests of Nish.  Since the death of the last Overlord, the red-robes had kept the God Core safely hidden in their main temple, waiting for the Prime to come of age.  Would the boy be changed?  Would he find alien memories filling his thoughts the way Jak found strangers’ thoughts in his own head?  Or was it all just a piece of show, political sleight of hand that meant nothing?  
Jak shook his head and scanned the bar again.  He knew he wasn’t welcome here, but he wasn’t yet ready to return to his empty room.  The holos and the crowds at least gave the illusion of companionship.  Across from him, visible through a haze of smoke and intervening patrons, was the Terran woman, Kamura.
Jak frowned.  The woman wasn’t displaying the kind of grace that Jak would have expected from a Daughter of the Thousand Families, not from the way that Tessa had described them.  She laughed too loud and too often and seemed not to notice that she was slumming well below her station.  As n’Tau led her deeper into the crowd, to an alcove at the rear of the room, she stumbled, catching her heel in the shimmering stuff of her long skirt.  Was she drunk?  Or drugged? 
Jak shrugged.  Tessa was right.  It was none of his business.
The Pit grew more crowded over the next hour, as Jak nursed his drink.  The boy came and cleared away his empty platter.  Jak thought word about him must have spread among the priests, because none of them came by with an offer of more ale.  His tankard was long empty, but he pretended to drink from time to time.  Although tables were at a premium, no one joined Jak, and no one dared to ask him to leave.
At last, Jak saw n’Tau rise from the table he shared with Kamura.  Patting her hand, he said something that made her giggle, and then walked away toward the guarded archway that led to the gaming tables in the upper rooms.  Jak wasn’t surprised to see him head for the tables.  n’Tau’s gambling habit was well known in Namdrik.  Yet, the landlord of the Pit would never allow a tourist in the upper rooms, so the pretty Terran would have to wait down here.  Still, he must be very sure of this girl to leave her alone.  Very sure or even more in the grip of gambling fever than Jak had suspected. 
Well, this was his chance to warn the Terran.  Maybe she’d leave while she still could.  He knew Tessa would tell him to mind his own business, but there was something in him that always led him to protect the innocent.  
A few quick strides across the cracked tile floor brought Jak to Kamura’s table.  He licked his lips, noting how the subtle scent of her perfume reached him even through the drug smoke and sweat stink of the Pit.  He was just drunk enough to have set off on this mission of mercy without caring about the ramifications.  Even so, he almost turned away.  As he hesitated, the Terran aristocrat glanced up at him, noticing his presence for the first time.  What was the proper title for a Daughter of the Thousand Families of Terra?  What had Tessa told him?  Did it matter?  
After an awkward pause, Jak settled on the polite usage of Shadriss, "Noble Lady, you’re in great danger."
"Is that so?"  
Kamura seemed unimpressed.  Her hand toyed with the shimmering ribbons that fell from her shoulders and formed the bodice of her dress.  The ribbons skimmed loosely over her high, rounded breasts and then were gathered by a narrow gold belt at her waist so that her dark nipples peaked out whenever she moved.  The skirt was a swirl of silk that spread around her shapely legs.  
Brown eyes summed him up and dismissed him in an instant.  She made it clear that his pilot's medallion, a sign of at least provisional respectability, was trumped by his scarred face and ragged work clothes.  Jak all but growled in frustration.  He’d never tried to help someone who so little wanted his aid.  He thought of walking away and leaving her to her fate, but thinking of any woman, even one as arrogant as this one, alone with n’Tau turned his stomach.
"For your own safety, leave now and go back among your own people," Jak told her.  
He felt himself flushing under her scorn, but he was determined to finish what he'd started whether the Terran listened or not. 
"And why should I do that?" 
"The man you're with, n'Tau, is a danger to you.  He’s a killer-for-hire and sometimes he’s worse."
Kamura smiled.  "And I suppose you’re offering to provide protection?  For a large fee, of course.  I’ve seen you watching me.  You aren’t as clever as you think."  Her dark eyes narrowed.  "Go away, you oaf.  You won’t scare any credits out of me."
"All I’m offering is a warning."  
But Jak knew he’d lost any chance of making her listen.  The woman’s arrogance was like a whiplash across his pride.  
"Go back to your own people," he repeated.  "I can’t protect you.  No one here can."
"I am a Recorder for the Family Mobutu, with all the skill and power that embodies.  I can protect myself," she said, "and if I wanted a guard, I certainly wouldn’t hire the first scruffy beggar who offered."  
Her hand touched a small bag that hung from her golden belt, and Jak realized she had some sort of weapon concealed there, probably a needler, one of the new, toy-sized guns that could set his nervous system on fire.  
Discouraged, he looked at her a moment more but realized she’d never take his warning seriously.  He turned and stalked back to his table; despite the crowd, no one had taken advantage of his momentary absence to claim it for their own.  At least his battered appearance had some advantages.  He was angry, angry with Kamura for refusing to believe him, and angry with himself for making such a foolish—and public—attempt to warn her.  He had definitely consumed too much of the Regent’s ale this feast day.  Now, when n’Tau returned, Kamura would tell the Gambler everything when Jack had said.  Or, if she didn't do so, someone else would; Bolon had eyes and ears everywhere.  
And then?
Jak slouched at his table, still pretending to nurse his tankard of ale and glaring at anyone who looked in his direction.  He didn’t think n’Tau would try anything tonight in the Pit, not with so many here who would welcome the excitement of a free-for-all.  They would get in the way of the careful butchery the Gambler enjoyed.  But if he did, Jak wouldn't make it easy for him.  He didn’t have many skills, but somewhere in his forgotten past, along with the knowledge of how to pilot a starship, he'd received some very thorough training in combat skills, both armed and unarmed.  That was why Bolon said he wanted to hire him, to work as an enforcer like n’Tau.  But Jak had no stomach for the job.  He’d fight to defend himself, and he’d do whatever he had to in order to protect Tessa, but he wouldn’t take money to maim or kill.  Not even to buy his way off this forsaken planet.  
It wasn’t long before Jak saw n’Tau return to where Kamura waited.  The Gambler’s luck must have been good.  Rings flashing on his hands, he poured a pile of credits onto the table in front of her.  Even in the dim light of the Pit, Jak could see that all the squares were the dark colors of high denominations.  Then, as he seated himself, she said something to him, and Jak watched as n'Tau scowled and shot a narrow-eyed glance in his direction.  
Jak stared back until the Gambler dropped his eyes.  Slouching back in his seat, Jak did his best to look like the hard case that Bolon and his men thought him to be.  He muffled a belch.  Thanks to the Regent’s bounty and Tessa’s generosity, he’d had far more to eat and drink tonight than he’d expected.  He preferred not to think about what Tessa would say when she learned that he’d angered n’Tau for the sake of warning the Terran woman.  
Frustrated, Jak managed to glare a passing priest of Nish into giving him another tankard of ale and then he lingered until well into the night, apart from the crowd but part of the illusion of warmth and life.  After all, when he left, it would only be to go to the barren room where he slept.  
When he thought to look again, n’Tau and the woman were gone.  Jak pushed himself to his feet, scowling at a young couple who made as if to slide onto the still-warm seats of his table.  Hastily, they backed off and waited for him to stride down the aisle to the front of the Pit.  No one spoke to him or looked directly at him as he shouldered his way to the door, although there were plenty of sidelong glances.  Jak had learned to recognize faces as a matter of survival, but he’d made no friends among the clannish people of Shadriss.
He strolled out of the Pit and paused in the dusty street to one side of the doorway, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.  There were few lighted streets in Namdrik, and both Liss and Leath had set.  The only light came from the narrow slice of stars that shone between the thick-walled buildings, heavy with their coating of adobe over ancient dura-steel frames. 
This late at night, even the Great Market was closed.  So, there was no purring of passing ground cars, no hum of ships overhead to break the silence.  Once the door of the Pit shut behind him, even the blast of noise from the bar faded to a murmur.
The night was hot, the air still and heavy, like a weight against his lungs.  A fine coating of sweat covered his skin as the humidity from the river washed over him.  By day, this place would be noisy with traders and farmers, bustling with merchants and shoppers.  Now it was late, and aside from a few places like the Pit, the area was deserted.  Jak kept a wary eye on the shadows, but even the mobbies, those unwanted children who lived in packs like wild animals, seemed to have abandoned this corner of Namdrik.  
A deep breath brought Jak the stink of the river Ur from three streets away, where the water grumbled under its load of mud and sewage.  Refuse from the Great Market and the docks went into the river nightly, and pipes emptied raw sewage there constantly.  Wrinkling his nose, he stretched, debating whether to walk through the streets or take the faster passage over the roofs.  His home, such as it was, was away from the river, near the spaceport.  Living close to the port had always given him hope, abet a hope as thin and faded as his old vest.  He could walk the distance in an hour.  Going over the roofs would take only half that time, but that route could be risky.  
Jak was about to leave when he heard the sound.  By all the rules of survival, he should have ignored it.  But he'd already ignored those rules once tonight, so he paused and listened.  It came again, a mewling from the alley on his right.  If the night hadn’t been so quiet, he’d never have heard it.  Jak’s mouth went dry as memories rose to his mind, most half-lost in a fog of grief and fear.  Then one memory rose clearly and swept him into that other life.
. . .  bend down to touch the fair hair of my wife where it’s matted with blood, and I close her torn dress around her.  Surely, she must be cold lying in the snow.  Surely, she must be cold lying here dead.  I was gone only for a day, just one day to take the cart full of grain to the market and trade it there.  
Her face looks so pretty, as if she’s sleeping . . .  except for the blood that makes a halo around her head, so much blood.  Why have they done this to her?  Grief . . . unbelieving . . .  I feel the white pain of a blow and fall with my cheek resting on icy gravel.  My forehead rests against my wife’s naked chest.  Her heart is silent; her flesh is cold.  Brisk hands strip away my purse and staff.  I hear the creak of my cart as they drive it away.  I do not have the strength to rise.  I am cold, so cold . . . .
Then Jak was back on Shadriss, shivering as he stood in the hot, fetid darkness, hands pressed to his head.  So many lives and so much pain!  He shook himself, wondering how long he'd stood in the timeless unfolding of a stranger's last moments.  Only seconds, he thought, as once again, he heard a moan and a deep sigh from the alley.  He saw no one else around.  This was no memory.  Those sounds of pain were real.  
Wiping sweaty palms against his legs, Jak drew his knife from its sheath at his waist.  Not for the first time, he wished he had a blaster, but such a weapon cost far more than he could afford.  He moved into the darkness of the alley and waited with his back against the rough, adobe of the wall, the knife ready before him.  Along with the scent of urine, the sharp spike of deteriorating plastic, and the stink of the river, the air held the unmistakable tang of freshly spilled blood.  He tensed, hearing a scraping sound, but no one came near him.  The sound came again, this time accompanied by another moan.  Jak released his breath.  The attacker had gone; only the victim remained.
He carried a small torch in one of his vest pockets.  He fished it out now with his free hand.  Holding it well away from his body, he aimed the beam in the direction of the moans.
The Terran girl lay in a bloody heap in the dirt, the skirt of her dress shimmering around her.  He’d known arrogant woman was in danger, but still it was a shock to see her so despoiled.  He played the light around the alley, not expecting to see anyone now but careful just the same.  
There was the usual mess—generations of trash piled high on either side of a narrow path that led back into the warrens behind the building.  A mobbie path, a new one, probably made since the last sweep.  Cold sweat broke out on his skin, despite the heat.  May the Lady Ur be merciful, and prevent any of those feral children from coming along now, or he and the Terran would both be meat for their larder.
He shined the light on Kamura again.  This was n’Tau’s work.  He’d dumped her out the side door of the Pit and left her to die in the filth.  If the Ur had been closer, he’d have dropped her in the water where the swarms of banderri would eat the evidence.  In moments, those water beetles would have consumed everything, flesh, bones, and all.  But the Ur was three streets away, too far for n’Tau to risk being seen carrying a body, or at least, not this body.  Still, he’d probably ordered a crew to clean up the evidence, and they’d be here at any moment.  Tomorrow, there’d be a dozen people to swear they saw n’Tau deliver Kamura safely back to her hotel.  
Jak knelt beside the injured woman, his knees gritty dirt prickling against his knees.  She was still breathing, but for how much longer, he couldn't say.  Her face was bruised, and her left arm felt broken, but those weren’t life-threatening injuries.  The amount of blood in her hair suggested a worse wound.  Her clothing, such as it was, seemed intact so he thought she probably hadn’t been raped, which meant that n’Tau wasn’t acting for his own perverted pleasure.  
Jak knew he should leave now and forget he ever saw the woman.  Yet, somehow, his body didn’t obey the good advice that was coming from his brain.  Kamura moaned again as Jak held the torch between his teeth and used his free hand to search through her blood-matted hair.  No way was he going to put down his knife.  There, behind her left ear, the skin was cut to the bone, probably by the heavy rings n’Tau wore.  The little bag she’d worn at her waist was missing, so her credits and identification were gone with it.  No doubt, n’Tau thought he’d killed her, but the Terran’s thick, kinky hair must have cushioned the blow.  Jak paused.  If n’Tau hadn’t done this for his own pleasure, that had to mean that Bolon wanted the woman dead.
To attack a Daughter of the powerful Thousand Families was no small thing.  n’Tau must have done this on Bolon’s orders, and Bolon answered only to the Regent.  That meant Graff n’Chall was behind it.  Why?  What could he hope to gain?  The Regent would be a fool to risk the vengeance of Family Mobutu, and not even his enemies called him that.  
How could he save this girl?  He could call for a medic.  But he couldn’t afford to keep a private com, and the nearest public com-unit was a long walk away.  Anyway, it probably wasn’t a good idea to place a call to a med-center and ask them to pick up the Terran.  Not if the Regent and Bolon wanted her dead.  Whatever was to be done, he’d have to do himself.
There was plenty of trash in the alley; paper and old rags, a pile of splintered boards and plastic that looked like the remains of someone’s handcart.  He took hold of the side of the cart and pried loose a couple of straight pieces of wood that were less filthy than most to make splints for Kamura’s arm.  He tore some of the ribbons off the top of her dress and used them to bind the splints and hold her arm against her side.  The scalp wound he decided to leave alone until he had something he could use to clean it.  Jak wished he had a cloak or a cape to wrap around her.  She needed warmth, and it would hide her, too, but he had nothing that would do the job.  
He picked her up in his arms as gently as he could.  She moved once, like a sleeping child stirring, and then subsided with a whimper.  Her soft skin felt clammy with shock.  He hoped she’d stay unconscious.  He’d take her to his room just for tonight.  Tomorrow, he’d figure out a way to get in contact with Family Mobutu.  With any luck, Kamura would be back among her own people before anyone in Namdrik knew she was still alive.  Perhaps there would even be a reward—enough to get Tessa free of Shadriss at last.  
He’d travel over the roofs.  It would be difficult in the dark, carrying an injured woman.  The footing was treacherous, and there was always the danger of running into a night roving mobbie pack.  But he needed to keep out of sight, and it was the fastest way to the only secure spot he knew.  A steep staircase further down the alley led to the roof of the Pit.  Jak climbed it, stepping wide where the treads were missing, and crossed the roof diagonally to the corner of the next building.  It was hard to lower Kamura without jarring her, but he managed, and dropped onto the roof below.
He crossed a dozen more roofs before reaching his building.  The roof under his feet had collapsed once, nearly sending them both tumbling into the darkness below.  Only a fast, one handed grab at the nearest wall saved them.  Fortunately, no mobbies had crossed their path.  Flicking through the combination of the lock on the rooftop door, he pushed inside and paused at the top of the stairs to listen for a moment.  A baby cried on one of the floors below, and somebody snored in a room nearby, but there was no one out to see them descend.  Settling Kamura more securely in his arms, he stepped inside.  Closing the door to the roof, Jak crossed the space as quickly and quietly as he could.  For the first time, he counted himself fortunate that his room was on the third floor and near the stairway.  The rent was cheap because the space was tiny and, with no insulation between his ceiling and the roof, it was almost always too hot.  But tonight it meant he had to take only a couple of long strides to reach his door.  
He had a bad moment when he nearly dropped Kamura as he fumbled the old fashioned card key out of his vest pocket—more secure than the combination lock on the roof, but not by much—and got the battered door open.  She moaned a little as he stretched her out on his cot, and then turned to close and lock the door.  He flipped the switch to turn on the one small light globe that hung from the ceiling, and the single room that he called home was illuminated in all its shabby poverty.  There was only one window—high up in the opposite wall—but some other traveler over the roofs might be able to see inside.  Jak pulled the thick leather shutter over it to be safe. 
Then, there was no more putting it off.  Time to play medic.  He closed his eyes and tried to will some useful memories to come to him, but it didn’t work.  He might have the memories of a great medic buried somewhere inside him, but he couldn't force them to emerge.  He sighed in frustration.  Damn whichever crazy god had afflicted him with this curse!  
The first thing to do was clean the head wound.  Even he knew that much.  Jak took a tube of antiseptic and a clean cloth from the cupboard that held his few possessions and filled a bowl with water.  Carefully, he sponged the blood away from Kamura’s face and hair.  Some scrapes were revealed, but they weren’t important.  What worried him was the bloody gash cutting through the hair behind her left ear.  The swelling around it looked ugly and painful.  
He cleaned the wound as well as he could, wishing he had a real med kit.  Instead, he had a needle, a few yards of black thread, a small tube of antiseptic, and the remains of Kamura’s skirt, which he’d ripped into usable pieces.  
It took a long time to stitch the wound, and he was grateful that the Terran remained unconscious while he worked.  Maybe that wasn’t entirely due to being hit on the head.  Jak remembered how drunk she’d seemed earlier.  Maybe n’Tau had slipped something into her drink.  The girl had moaned once or twice but didn’t really wake up.  Jak kept wiping away the blood with another piece ripped from her skirt and stitching the wound as best he could with his poor tools.  His back ached with tension when he finally finished.  Smearing antiseptic over the gash and scrapes, he bound the last of her skirt around her head to try to keep the wound clean. 
He checked her broken arm again but decided he’d set it well enough the first time—better to leave it alone.  He’d done all he could.  Kamura moaned, and he scowled down at her, remembering her arrogance, her insults in the Pit.  He shook his head, disgusted with himself, angry with Kamura.  What was the matter with him that he’d dealt himself into her problems?  Didn’t he have enough trouble of his own? 
Scowling, he touched the back of his hand to her forehead.  It was a hot, sultry night, but Kamura’s skin still felt clammy from shock, and her breath came in harsh, irregular gasps.  He found his winter cape and covered her with that.  As he pulled off his boots and prepared to sleep on the floor, he made a promise to himself  Tomorrow, if she were still alive, he’d see about returning this awkward woman to Family Mobutu.  
Chapter 4:  Jak
Sunlight shining through holes in the leather covering over the window woke Jak early the next morning.  For a moment, he wondered why he was sleeping on the floor instead of on his bed.  A glance to his right showed him the Terran woman sprawled on his cot, and the entire miserable evening came back to him.  With a muffled groan, he sat up and massaged his aching back.  Beside him, Kamura who tossed as if caught in a bad dream.  When he put his hand to her forehead, she felt feverish to his touch.  Beads of sweat formed on her face and ran into her long, dark hair.  That definitely wasn’t good.  
His place was so small that he didn’t even need to stand up to reach the room’s only cupboard and pull out a plastic jug of water.  He poured a little into an earthenware bowl, and then dipped the cleanest remaining piece of Kamura’s dress into the cool water and bathed her face.  Washing the dried blood away revealed still more bruising and swelling.  She’d kicked away the cloak that he’d covered her with during the night, and now lay half on top of it.  Jak tried to be careful of her broken arm as he tugged it free and tried to cover her.  He couldn’t help but notice the navel ring she wore, a neat circle of gold set with a small emerald that sparkled against the coffee-colored skin of her stomach.  
Carefully, Jak removed the navel ring and set it aside.  He’d trade it at the market for credits to buy food and meds.  He tucked the fabric of his winter cloak around the sleeping woman and sighed.  Kamura was beautiful, naked, and in his bed, and he felt no more for her than he might feel for a sculpture of the Lady Ur.  There was only one woman he wanted, and he might have put her into even more danger by helping this Terran.
When it looked as if she were about to wake, Jak peeled back the seal on his one remaining a container of soup.  It was lukewarm, but it was the closest thing to food he had.  Kamura opened her eyes—or one eye, at least.  The left one was swollen shut.  Jak sat cross-legged on the floor next to her as he poured the soup from its package into his only cup.  She stared at him for a long, vacant moment and then gazed around the room as if she’d never seen anything like it.  No doubt, the plaster walls, floor made of cheap recycled plastic slabs, and plain cupboard cobbled together from scrap weren’t the sort of accommodations to which she was accustomed.  In the merciless morning light, every crack, chip, and stain showed. 
Jak sat quietly, waiting for the woman to gather her wits.
Chapter 5:  Kamura
Someone was washing her, the one good thing in a sea of pain.  Her Recorder training had her looking at the inside of her body even before she was awake enough to wonder why.  Superficial damage, she concluded; bruises, scrapes, and a broken arm.  Any med-center could heal it all in a day.  But the taste in her mouth, the feeling of being disconnected from her own body—someone had drugged her!  Then her brain caught up with her training, and she opened her eyes, or at least the eye that wasn’t swollen shut.  Ah, the light!  It was like spears stabbing into her brain.  She rolled her head to one side, and a man came into view.
He was a stranger, big and ragged, with an ugly scar that bisected his face.  But she’d seen him before, she was almost sure of it.
"Who are you?" she asked at last.  The faint, breathy words sounded nothing like her usual tone of command.
"The name's Jak."
He slipped his hand beneath her shoulders and lifted her so that she could sit propped against the wall.  Then, he offered a spoonful of something liquid.  
"Here, try this.  It’ll make you feel better."
She opened her mouth without argument.  The examination of her body had told her that she needed liquid and nourishment.  
"What’s happened to me?" she asked a little later.  The liquid was soup, some sort of grain, water, and spices.  If she hadn’t needed the liquid, she’d have refused it.  Now, at least her voice was stronger.
"Nothing as bad as you’re thinking," the ugly stranger told her.  "You’ve had a hell of a whack on the head, but it’s healing fine.  Your arm is broken, or at least sprained pretty bad."
What an idiot!  She knew she was injured.  And her was strained, just a muscle strain.  Nothing serious.  But she wanted to know how she’d been injured.  Or, better yet, why.  She looked down at herself, at the makeshift bandages.  She hated having the dirty cloth touching her, but there was obviously nothing more sanitary at hand.  So, concentrate on getting some answers—now!
"That’s all there was to use for a splint," the man who called himself Jak said, noticing her glance.  "Thought I’d do more harm by changing the splint than leaving it on.  I cleaned the scratches and put a little ointment on them.  I’ll get some antibiotics later today.  I’ve got some pain killers if you want them."  
"Yes," she said, squinting against the light.  "I want them."
Jak reached into the small cupboard next to him and took out a couple of brownish pills.  
"They’re native stuff, made of an herb that grows along the banks of the Ur.  They taste like dirt, but they work fine."
He handed the pills to her along with a bottle of water.  She looked at them for a moment, then put the pills in her mouth and swallowed them along with most of the water.  It was only when she saw the look of dismay on his face that she realized that was all the water Jak had.  Well, he could go get some more.
"Toilet!" she said next.  
"In the corner.  I’ll help you get up."  Jak wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and helped her to stand and walk over to the clay jar in the corner.  He took the lid off and gestured toward it.
"This?" she asked, incredulous.
"This.  Sit on it.  Do what you have to do.  I’ll look the other way if you’re modest."
For a moment, she thought she might refuse; but a cramp in her bladder nearly doubled her over.  With an expression of disgust, she seated herself on the commode.  When she was done, Jak replaced the lid and helped her back to the cot.  At least there’d been no blood in her urine.  Everything would heal, she told herself, even the arm.  By evening, she’d be in a med-center, and this would all be just an ugly memory.
Jak resumed his seat on the floor beside her and picked up the bowl of soup.  She watched as he drank the rest of the thin stuff in just a couple of gulps.  The pills he’d given her for pain started to work, and she found the strength to look around.  There wasn’t much to see.  The room they were in was very plain and nearly empty, just the cot, the small cupboard, and the commode in the corner.  Everything was shabby and mended, from the scuffed plastic flooring to the mud-plastered walls.  Gradually, it dawned on her that this bare little room constituted the entirety of Jak’s home and possessions.  She closed her eyes to fight off the sudden wave of homesickness for long corridors lined with slender stone pillars, of gardens green in the sunshine.  It was one thing to read reports; it was another to land in the midst of poverty greater than she’d ever imagined.  But she couldn’t let this throw her off course. 
"Why am I here?" she demanded.  
She pulled the cloak up to her chin and looked closely at Jak.  Tall, rawboned, long red hair scraped back into a tail, and a scar that cut diagonally across his face and gave him a permanent sneer; she remembered that scar.  
"You’re that man from the tavern, aren’t you?  I told you I wouldn’t pay you, and I mean it.  Now, get me my clothes so I can get out of here."  
She paused, out of breath, her face prickly with cold sweat.  
"There wasn’t enough left of your dress to save," Jak told her.  "You’re lucky to have my winter cloak to cover you.  I brought you here to save your life, lady, not for money; and you should be damn grateful.  One of our local thugs tried to kill you, only he didn’t take time to make sure of the job."
"Who tried to kill me?"  
In her indignation, she lost her grip on the cloak, and Jak’s eyes went to her small, well-formed breasts.  She would not put up with being ogled by this thug.  
"Take me to a med-center, and do it now!"
Jak scowled.  "Lady," he explained patiently, "Somebody wants you dead.  My guess is that n’Tau attacked you, but the Regent’s behind it.  You're alive now because nobody knows where you are.  Pay attention!  If you set foot in a med-center, you’re dead."

Kamura glared at him as she pulled the cloak close around her, again. 
"I don’t remember who attacked me," she said.  "I don’t remember being attacked at all.  But I’m sure it wasn’t n’Tau . . . ."  But her voice trailed off.  "I remember arriving at the hotel, and I remember dressing to go out.  After that, I’m not so sure.  I went to several places, and n’Tau was just there, part of crowd, but amusing company.  Then you were there.  Then—nothing."
"You’ve got to contact Family Mobutu.  Have them get you off Shadriss.  If we’re careful—and lucky—later today we might be able to reach a place I know of where you can use the com."  
"No, I’m taking the next shuttle to Tekena.  I should have been in the capital this morning to meet with the Regent.  I have urgent Family business in the Black Palace."
More than urgent, as well as important to more than Family Mobutu, she thought.  But that was nothing that this man needed to know.
"Forget that!  Whatever business you were sent here for is over."   
"No, it isn’t." 
Jak scowled.  "Did that smack on your head knock loose what little sense you had?  They want you dead.  Dead.  As in, not alive."
"You don’t understand!"  She clenched her teeth and hissed as the movement made the pain in her head flare.  "I’m the official Recorder, the only one in this section.  I must be there to see and record the ceremony of Joining.  I have to record the joining of the new Prime to the God Core to seal our trade agreements." 
That was the official story.  Her real mission was to determine whether the Prime was part of an active Selok omniphage cluster.  If true, Kamura had orders from Grandmother Mobutu to call in the airstrike that would kill him before he could become the Overlord, before he could become a part of the piece of alien technology that the locals called the God Core.  At the age of five, physicians of the priesthood of Nish had implanted a socket in the cervical vertebrae of Luan n’Chall’s neck as the culmination of a lengthily and complicated ceremony.  That bit of gleaming blackness was the sign that he was destined to be the true Overlord of Shadriss.  As far as Kamura was concerned, it would be his death warrant.
Still, Kamura was almost sure she was in over her head.  She’d thought it an honor to be sent alone to deal with something so important to the Family.  Now, she was wondering whether her grandmother really understood the situation here on Shadriss.
"That’s crazy," Jak said, still arguing with her.  "Anybody with a camera can do that."
She shook her head in denial.  "No, that’s not true.  I’m the living record of the Family’s business.  What I see, what I say, makes it official.  Nothing less will do."
For as long as Kamura could remember, she’d trained to be a Recorder.  Few were chosen for that role, and fewer still survived the training.  Kamura had graduated with honors.  She could download information from her electronically augmented hippocampus into Family Mobutu’s computers.  All she needed was a working com.  
"What kind of business involves throwing away your life on Shadriss?  There’s nothing here that’s worth dying for."  
"Enough questions.  I’m leaving."
She tried to stand and dizziness swept over her.  Cold sweat prickled her skin.  Catching her arm, Jak eased her back into the cot.
Kamura was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts.  Much as she hated to admit it, she was going to need help to reach Tekena.  This Jak looked as if he could use money.  She was sure that’s what he’d been after with his warning earlier, despite his denials.  He wore a pilot’s medallion around his neck.  No doubt, he’d been stranded on Shadriss for some crime or other, and he must be anxious to leave here.  Maybe she could use that to her advantage.
"Help me get to Tekena before the Joining," she said, "and I’ll see that you have enough credits to buy your way off this planet."  
"No."
"Three times the cost of passage to the nearest B-class planet," she offered.  "That’s 10,000 credits in local currency."
She saw him pause as he thought about it.  For a moment, she feared he’d refuse again, but then he seemed to come to a decision.  
"Paid in advance," he said.
She hid her relief.  "Do you take me for a fool?  I’ll pay when I arrive in Tekena."
"It will be a dangerous trip.  We can’t go by the usual safe routes.  You could die on the way." 
It was her turn to frown, but it was a valid point.
"Very well then, half in advance and half when I arrive safely in Tekena."  
She just had to hope that he wouldn’t take half the offer and leave her stranded.  But would a thief have bothered to rescue her in the first place?
"Done," he said.
He reached toward her, as if to touch her hand, but stopped when she cringed away.  The people here did entirely too much touching, she thought.  She’d given her word.  She’d recorded the contract.  There was no need to touch.

Chapter 6:  Jak
"I’ll be back in a couple of hours," Jak told the girl.  
She huddled on his cot, wrapped in his cloak.  Hair matted with blood, face swollen, she looked miserable.  He’d have felt sorry for her if he weren’t coming to dislike her so much.  Still, he’d made his bargain, and he would keep it.  As soon as she’d made the offer, he’d realized that it was his only chance to get enough credits for Tessa to get away from Shadriss.
"Meanwhile, keep quiet and don’t let anyone else in."  
He’d lock the door after him.  It would take either his card key or a lot of force to open it from outside, but Kamura could open the door from inside if she chose to do so. 
"Where are you going?"
Her face was drawn with pain, but he was out of meds. 
"To buy supplies," he answered.  He held up the little gold navel ring and smiled as her hand went to her stomach.  "Keep quiet.  Keep the door shut.  I’ll be back as soon as I can."  
He stepped out before she could argue anymore.  
He also planned to talk to Tessa soon and let her know about the bargain.  If he put the first half of the payment in her name, that plus what she’d managed to save ought to be enough to give her a clean start.  Any B-class world would have a Terrestrial climate, an established economic and social structure, everything she’d need to live a safe and comfortable life.  He wouldn’t be around to share it with her, but that had never been a real possibility anyway.
He stuffed the little ring into one of his vest pockets as he walked down the corridor leading outside.  He was headed for the Great Market, the bazaar that ran everyday just north of the docks on the Ur.  He hoped to find an accommodating trader, one who’d exchange the navel ring for credits without asking too many questions.  He left his building without attracting any attention.  It was early, the air still cool enough to be pleasant, but already hinting of heat to come.  He walked slowly among the small, shabby stalls that nearly blocked the dusty street.  Along the way, he stepped around children, beggars, and ordinary folk out to purchase a jar of grain, a length of cloth, or a small, bright ear bauble.  
He also spotted mobbies hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance to steal a bit of fruit or a dropped credit.  He kept well away from those feral children, knowing they were quick, fearless, and almost impossible to catch.  Worse, they all were deadly accurate with their slingshots, and some carried knives.  Even the littlest ones, set out as beggars by the Alpha’s of the mobbie packs, could be risky to approach if their mobbie guards decided he was a danger to their charges.
Jak passed a few late-coming merchants who were just opening their stalls.  The Great Market was organized into quarters for the various kinds of merchants.  Cloth merchants, food sellers, and jewelers each had an area reserved for them.  Some of the sellers glanced uneasily at Jak as he passed, noting his height and red hair, both unusual on Shadriss.  But once they saw his scarred face, they looked away again.  That kind of deformity was a sign of bad luck, and they didn’t want it spreading to them.  Jak sighed and tried to tug his vest into place so that it covered more of this body; the scar on his face was only one among many.  He wondered what it would be like to walk though a city where he looked like everyone else, where he wasn’t a walking advertisement for misfortune.  He shook his head; it wouldn’t happen on Shadriss.  
A file of hand-drawn carts filled with produce creaked up the road from the docks.  The fruits and vegetables were fresh from narrow strips of farmland that lay along both sides of the river Ur.  Beyond those green fields was the great, golden desert—the Waste—always ready to devour the labor and the lives of the farmers.  As he walked, another life washed through Jak’s mind, not seizing him roughly, as some memories did, but gentle and misty.
I am in a market, a busy place. . . a boy on my first business trip with my father.  He trusts me to carry the inventory data pad.  I am so proud to be part of our family’s business. . . warehouses on all sides . . . big white buildings with tall steel doors.  We stop to talk with a merchant who wants to ship a cargo of nuts.  The warehouse smells sweet and woody.  My father motions me forward. "Meet my son," he says, "he’s just getting started in the shipping trade."  
The memory faded, and Jak found himself standing in the middle of the street and blinking at a cart full of plums.  The vendor looked at him oddly, and he hastily continued through the Great Market.  Memories of other lives wouldn’t help him now, not even one that felt so oddly comforting.
The bazaar smelled of spices and dust, new synthetics and old leather, of the algae that grew on the pilings that supported the river docks, and of the perfumed oil that the city’s merchants used to dress their long, black hair.  Jak’s height let him see over the heads of most of the short, slender natives of Shadriss, but that same height would make it easier for his enemies to spot him, and there was a good chance n’Tau would be looking for him today.  The Gambler knew Jak had seen him with Kamura last night, and he might guess that Jak had something to do with getting the girl out of the alley.    
Fortunately, the jewelers’ quarter was close to the gate that lay across the main road leading through the city to the spaceport.  Jak entered behind an older woman dressed in a fine linen shift.  She scolded the sleepy eyed boy who trailed her while carrying her large, empty shopping basket.  He cut around a pair of farmers arguing the price of lamnan, and strode past the rows of tents where weapons merchants sold blasters, stunners, and knives to anyone who had the credits to buy.  Those same merchants would purchase from anyone who had a weapon to sell, even a mobbie, if one of those children managed to steal a weapon too large for small hands to use.  Jak refused to give in to the temptation to browse through what he couldn’t afford.  The tents of the jewelers were just ahead.  
Jak turned down the first row of such traders he came upon after passing the weapons mart.  This less desirable perimeter of the jeweler’s quarter housed small traders who might take an interest in a man who had but a single jewel to sell.  The tents here were even gaudier than the ones in the other quarters of the market, and the guards were far more numerous.  He chose a tent of yellow and purple stripes, trimmed with blue ribbons, and small silver bells at each corner.  Despite its bright colors, the tent was worn just short of shabby, and there was only a single guard outside.  Looking more bored than menacing, she eyed Jak as he went inside but didn’t try to stop him.  He paused just inside the entrance and peered around the murky interior of the jeweler’s tent.  
From within the dimness of the tent, the jeweler rose to meet him.  He was an old man, thin and bent, with a wrinkled, clean shaven face.  Yet, true to his calling, he was decked out like a dandy with rings on every finger and gems in his hair.  Jak was sure that none of the ornaments was especially valuable, but they did make a fine show.  
"Greetings and Lady Ur’s blessings!"  The jeweler brought his hands together in front of his face in a sketchy bow of polite greeting.  "Welcome to the tent of Vayak, the finest jeweler in all Namdrik."  
Then jeweler frowned, and then took a hasty step back as he got a better look at his prospective client.  Jak could tell the man was about to call for the guard.  Jak smiled, and Vayak looked truly alarmed.  Damn that scar; smiling was not a good idea.  Instead, he produced the navel ring.  There was just enough light to strike a spark of green from the emerald.  The jeweler realized that Jak was here to sell, not to rob, and relaxed.  
"And how may I help you?" he asked as he fussed with the many folds of his long white tunic.  Jak was sure he had a blaster hidden in there somewhere.
"I want to sell this ring," Jak said, stating the obvious.  It looked very small in the palm of his large hand.  He knew he had to play the game according to the merchant’s rules, and that meant haggling.  Unfortunately, haggling wasn’t a skill at which he excelled.
Vayak peered doubtfully at the ring and even more doubtfully at Jak.  Jak realized the jeweler believed he’d stolen the ring, but the old man wasn’t fussy.  In this part of the jewelers’ quarter, half the clients would be thieves and the other half their victims.  The jeweler pursed his mouth and nodded his head as he studied it, sending waves of garlic and perfume Jak’s way.  
Jak let out a sigh of relief when Vayak gestured for Jak to take a seat at the low table at the rear of the tent.  The jeweler made small talk as he took out his teapot and two cups.  Jak’s spirits rose even more.  The jewel was worth enough for Vayak to treat him as a proper customer.  Jak tried to keep up his end of the polite conversation while Vayak placed two small cups of hot tea and a plate of sweet cakes on the table.  Jak had eaten half the cakes before the widening of Vayak’s eyes reminded him he was supposed only to eat one or two.  He slowed, but it was hard.  The cakes were tasty, and he was hungry.
"It’s very small," Vayak said at last, handing the ring back to Jak.  He paused for a careful sip of tea.  "Quite possibly a fake.  I could let you have a couple of credits for it."
"Fake!" Jak exclaimed in mock indignation.  He’d thought up his story while waiting for Vayak to get to the point.  "This ring belonged to my mother who received it as a gift from a High Lord.  I won’t name him, out of respect for his privacy, but he would never deal in fakes."  
He picked up the jewel and made as if to put it in his pocket.
"Well, then, let me see it, again.  Perhaps it might be worth a little more."  
When it came to haggling the old man was a master of the art, Jak realized as he struggled to keep up his end of the bargaining.  At last, Jak haggled from a price so unfair it amounted to larceny to one that was merely an insult.  He accepted it gladly.  Poor as it was, it would buy the antibiotics and painkillers Kamura needed, and a day or so of food into the bargain.  
As he headed away from the jeweler’s tent, he wondered how he would get Kamura to Tekena.  With all the traffic on the river heading for the ceremony of the Joining, there’d be plenty of the Regent’s men along the way, watching for trouble, maybe watching for Kamura.  At least, he would try.  To be honest, he didn’t expect either of them to live to reach their destination, but that didn’t matter so long as he could buy Tessa passage to safety.
As he walked, he saw small groups of the Regent’s men here and there.  They seemed looking for something or someone without wanting to make a show of it.  Their blue tunics and trousers, the color of the House of n’Chall, made them easy to spot amid the white and tan of the ordinary market clothes.  A quick turn and a squeeze between rows of tents let Jak avoid the first patrol he saw.  But soon he had to pause and pretend an interest in a display of cooking pots to let a second party of six guards go by the end of the row.  After they passed, he strolled on, trying to look as if he had all morning free to shop.  It was hard to keep up a slow, steady pace when all he really wanted was to get out of sight.
On his way through the market, he overheard snatches of conversation.  As yet, word went, nobody knew who the soldiers hunted, but Jak overheard plenty of rumors.  Some said the soldiers were seeking a missing High Lord or Lady who’d gone astray.  Others claimed the soldiers were looking for an outlander.  That was the rumor that Jak liked the least.  It probably that meant n’Tau had given Jak’s description to someone. 
In the cloth merchants’ quarter, his purchased a lightweight cloak with an attached hood, the sort of thing farmers often wore to protect themselves from the sun while they worked in their fields.  He drew a surprised stare from the merchant when he paid the first price asked, but Jak knew he had to have something that would cover his red hair and shade his all too recognizable face.  
He slipped the cloak on as he moved a few more rows of tents closer to the river Ur toward the food mart and the nearby area where local herbs and off world medicines were sold.  He purchased some bread and cheese, a little fruit, a few ampoules of antibiotics, and some painkillers.  As an afterthought, on his way back out through the cloth market, he purchased a shift for Kamura to wear and a comb so she could untangle her hair.  The dress was just a simple sleeveless shift of white cotton such as the poorer local women wore.  But he needed to take her Tessa’s place so that she could use the com there to finalize their bargain, and she couldn’t go out in public in nothing but his winter cloak and the rags of silk that bound her wounds.
Jak had to dodge the Regent’s men twice more before he was able to slip out the main gate and walk away from the bazaar with his purchases bundled in the dress. 
Chapter 7:  Jak
The sun was high in the sky as Jak headed back toward the tiny room he called home.  He’d wrapped his purchases in the tunic he’d bought for Kumara and tied it so that the bundle hung from his waist.  With the heat of the day pressing down on his shoulders like a heavy hand, he pulled the hood of his cape a little closer to give him some protection from the sun as well as to hide his scarred face.  He moved steadily down a street packed with people, all crowding into the shade near the walls so that there was a narrow path down the sun-baked center of the way that a man could take if he were in a hurry and didn’t mind baking his brains.  Jak, who didn’t want to call attention to himself by hurrying, chose the slower route near the walls, winding through the crowds.  Just a few blocks further and he’d be able to duck inside his own building.
He passed a beggar who called from a doorway, holding out his bowl on the stumps of his wrists.  Jak thought the man must be blind as well as crippled to think that such as he had any alms to give.  He admired the flash of a passing woman’s silver ornaments and sidestepped a thin mobbie boy with innocent eyes and clever fingers.  
He wasn’t fool enough to think that he’d be able to get the Terran woman to Tekena alive.  They’d both die trying, no arguing with that, but he had a chance to save Tessa.  With the first half of the fee plus what he was sure she’d saved, she’d be able to establish herself comfortably on a safe, civilized world . . . .  
Daydreaming about Tessa, Jak stepped into the mouth of an alley, to allow a scarlet-robed priest of Nish to pass.  He’d been pushing his luck to bait the priests at the Pit, the result of too much free ale on an empty belly.  People who angered Nish or his followers had a way of disappearing.  Today, Jak was sober and respectfully cautious.  He was still watching the red-robe pass when the men stepped out of the alley's deeper recesses and boxed him in.  The leader had a needler, and the barrel nudged Jak’s spine.
"Bolon wants to see you," he said.
Jak knew that voice.  It sounded the way a moki would sound, if those poisonous desert lizards could speak.  The holder of the needler was called Field, short for some clan and family name too long for Jak to remember.  Field was a hard man from one of the farming villages further along the river Ur, and he was one of Bolon’s enforcers, second only to n’Tau.  Jak glanced around cautiously.  He didn’t recognize the others, but the four men with Field made a matched set.  Shorter than Jak but taller and broader than the natives of Shadriss, their hairless heads and all the rest of their bare skin were marked with patterns of brown swirls.  Jak didn’t know if they’d been born that way or had the pigment altered, but the patterns gave them a fluid, ghost-like quality that made them hard to see.  
A trickle of sweat ran down under Jak’s vest like a warning of things to come.  Had they found out about Kamura?  Had the girl left his rooms and been caught?  
Despite all the questions in his mind, Jak went along quietly.  As long as he was alive, he still had a chance to escape.  They turned down the narrow alley, moving away from the street, and marched single file, three men ahead of Jak and two behind.  He thought about twisting, driving his elbow into the chest of the man behind him, and grabbing the needler from Field.  He was stronger than even Tessa knew and faster, too.  His strength and speed were part of the strangeness, and he was sure he could have taken all of them in a fair fight.  But Field held the needler firmly, and strength was no match for a beam that could set his nervous system on fire.  So, he waited, hoping for an open space where he’d have room to dodge.  But they kept to the maze of alleys that twisted between the few broad streets of Namdrik.  Anyone who saw them coming scuttled out of their way.
"So, where are we going?"  Jak asked, trying to sound as if it didn’t really matter to him.
The first and only time he’d seen Bolon in the flesh was when he’d been summoned to one of the back rooms at the Pit.  There, the Regent’s bastard had offered Jak work as a killer for hire.  Jak had said no, and that had been the end of the interview.  Still, Bolon wasn’t one to take a turn down lightly, not even on so minor a matter as hiring Jak.  
"This doesn’t look like way to the Pit," Jak said when his question got no answer.
"Just shut up and walk," Field said.  "The Boss wants to see you at his place."
So, they were headed to the crime lord’s personal lair.  He’d heard it was hidden amid the ruins at the center of Namdrik, but he’d never expected actually to go there.  This was looking bad.  He walked on with the others, and the adobe walls curved in above them in buttresses and arches that gradually had less and less space between until there was a continuous roof over their heads.   
It wasn’t long before they were deep in the oldest part of the city, where the structures were piled against each other in a crumbling jumble like so much discarded trash.  They passed more plastic here, more prefab walls and floors, less adobe.  Jak knew the early settlers’ culture had been much more advanced than the primitive construction and recycled tech their descendants employed, but today was the first time he really understood just how far they’d fallen.  The men’s boots scuffed through room after room, linked together like cells in a hive, most of them dusty with decaying furniture and cobwebs.  Small creatures scuttled into shadows as they passed.  Jak fought the urge to sneeze.  He didn’t want to do anything that might startle Field who still walked with the barrel of the needler pressed against his back.
Bolon’s private apartments, Jak noted when they finally reached them, were in better repair than the rooms they’d passed through getting there, but not by much.  At least he assumed this big, nearly empty room was their destination, although it was so large it seemed more like a natural cavern than a man-made hall.  Tarnished silver filigree encrusted the walls and ceiling, and dusty tapestries covered what might be doorways.  Jak wrinkled his nose.  The whole place stank worse than the Pit, redolent of dust, sweat, and the reek of stale drug smoke.  
Field and the others led Jak past random clusters of furniture that was once expensive, but even Jak could tell the styles were a hodgepodge of old and new, large and small, ornate and plain.  It looked like a collection of every pricey piece ever made on Shadriss since the days of the first settlers, all scattered in the enormous room with no regard for style of comfort.  Jak ignored the tawdry, mismatched luxury as he tried to spy an exit that would let him out of here without having to go through Field and his men to get to it.  So far, nothing looked like a good possibility.  Two of the strangely patterned men had stayed to guard the way they’d come in.  There must be more than one way in and out¬—Bolon would never let himself be trapped in a den with only one exit—but in the dim light and the clutter it was impossible to guess where another exit might be hidden.  Best to keep his eyes open, his mouth shut, and be ready to take advantage of any break that came his way.  Jak took a deep breath and schooled himself to seem calmer than he felt.
A few small light-globes hung near the ceiling, ancient technology nearly ready to flicker its last.  In the dim light Jak could make out the big man seated behind the huge desk at the far end of the room.  He tried not to think of Kamura as Field and his two remaining men led him forward through the gloom.  He let his head droop and made his face go slack and sullen.  He’d be the thug Bolon expected.  
They came to a halt across from the ornate desk where Bolon sat.  He was a huge man, especially for a native of Shadriss.  Standing, he would be at least half a head taller than Jak and probably twice as heavy.  It twisted Jak’s gut to think of this monster anywhere near Tessa.  Bolon wore his hair in the usual cascades of long curls and multiple braids, and his heavy, clean-shaven face rose pale and unhealthy looking from the gloom.  Over his bulk, he wore an ornate tunic and trousers of dark blue silk.  Small, red stones studded all the way around each ear, glistened in the dim light like drops of blood.
The Regent’s bastard ignored Jak and his captors as he worked his massive fingers through some game made of colored rings.  Yes, Jak could see why the sight of this great slug-like slab of a man playing with the children’s toy gave Tessa the creeps.  He seemed almost damaged, as if something important was broken.  Bolon’s chair creaked as he shifted his bulk from side to side, and Jak could hear the heavy, animal panting of his breath.  He watched in silence.  Like his escort, he knew better than to speak first.  
Jak was pretty sure he was about to die.  What would happen to Tessa now?  Kamura was as surely dead as he was, but could clever Tessa escape?  Would her High Lord protect her?  He felt sweat trickling down his face and under his arms, and he had to fight down his anger.  Why didn’t Bolon get it over with?  
At last, Bolon looked up.  His face ought to have been handsome, his features were well shaped and evenly placed, but it seemed to Jak that there was something wrong with his heavy lidded eyes.  The rubies in his ear sparkled a bloody warning.
"I have a use for you, outlander" Bolon announced without preliminary.  His voice was a light tenor, without inflection, his face expressionless.  He almost seemed bored.  "Do well, and you’ll have enough credits to live a while longer."
Chapter 8:  The Selok
The Selok shifted more of its focus to the Bolon-body so it could watch the red-haired human.  Was this was the one who had almost destroyed it?  Yes, it remembered those green eyes.  Most unusual on Shadriss.  Also, he was larger than most of the humans on of this planet—almost as large as the Bolon-body.  The man was lean, muscular, and he bore the Selok’s parting scar across his face.  Yes, it was sure that this was the same man.
"What do you want done?" the man asked.  
It picked the name from the mind of the Bolon body; Jak this one called himself.  The Selok was almost certain that Jak thought he was talking to a human.  In a way, he was correct.  This body’s original genetic structure was human, and in the years since the Selok’s disastrous attempt to assimilate a fully developed adult, the Bolon-body had begun to develop a personality of its own.  And that personality both hated and feared Jak.  The Selok brought more of its identity into the Bolon-body, but it was a tight fit.  The human child-mind at the core of the body had grown.  
"Or did you just bring me here to chat?"
The Selok was amused, in its dry way.  Did the man think that it couldn’t read the fear as well as the defiance in his body posture?  The child mind in the Bolon-body had a plan, one that would torment two enemies at once, and the Selok decided to let the Bolon-body have its way.  If this human remembered enough of what had happened, he could become a danger to all of its selves.
"I want you to kill a troublemaker."
"Bolon, I don’t do murder for hire.  We’ve been over this before."
"Yes, and you weren’t listening, Jak of no clan.  I made you a good offer then, but you threw it away.  That crack on your head must really have scrambled your brains.  Now, I’m not asking, I’m telling."  He paused and looked directly at Jak for the first time.  "And I’m telling you to get rid of that whore, Tessa."
The human tried to hide it, but it saw the look of dismay on Jak’s face.  The Selok didn’t understand how humans could be together without one assimilating the other.  This human had seemed so separate, so individual, and defenseless, that the Selok had ignored the old prohibitions against assimilating an adult mind.  The encounter had nearly destroyed all of its selves.  
"A friend of yours, isn’t she?"  The Bolon-body smiled. 
 The child-mind had wanted the woman the way it wanted the pretty toys that it played with constantly.  But her refusal had triggered something deeper, something far down in the Bolon-body’s hindbrain where infants and females bonded.  Just thinking about that kind of link was repellent to the Selok.
"That should make it easier for you to get close to her."
"I told you, I’m not a murderer."
"Really?"  The Bolon-body laughed; a small, nasty sound without humor.  "If you’re too soft, I can get one of my regulars to do the job."
This was taking too long, the Selok thought.  It didn’t have time to cater to the emotional needs of the child-brain.  It pushed more of itself into the Bolon-body’s awareness—and it was pushed back!  It paused, astonished.  It had raised this body from an embryo, joined with it as soon as it was able to breathe on its own, and now the developing child-mind, a mind that should never have existed in the first place, was strong enough to push it away?  The Selok pushed again, forcing its will on the child-mind.  Resistance again!  The child-mind’s rage and longing gave it strength.  The Selok realized that it needed to return the mind to passive tranquility before it could assert complete control once again.  The quickest way to do that was to give it what it wanted.  But Jak was still defiant.
"You can kill me," Jak said, "or you can try."  He looked at the men surrounding him, and they took a cautious step away.  "But you can’t make me kill for you."
"Don’t be so sure," the Selok said through the Bolon-body.  Now that they agreed on the course of action, it was easier to maintain control.  "What if I offered something you wanted?"
"Even you don’t have enough credits to buy me," Jak said.
"You take too limited a view of what I have to offer.  What about knowledge?  I know who you are and where you came from.  Kill the woman, and I can give that back to you."
The Selok watched Jak freeze.  Yes, the human hadn’t expected that.  It would give back what it knew of Jak’s past, and then it would kill him.  The child-mind agreed.  Then, it decided to up the ante.  
"If you won’t do the job, I’m sure n’Tau will be happy to oblige."
Jak licked his lips, his tiny human mind obviously working furiously.
"Not n’Tau," Jak said, at last.  "I’ll do it, but it will take a while to arrange.  She’s with some High Lord now and won’t be back for a few days."  
"You have until the end of the week.  I don’t care how you do it, outlander.  I just want the bitch dead.  Remember, it’s her or you.  I’m not going to put up with any more stalling.  Now, get out," the Bolon-body ordered, picking up its puzzle.  It looked like a small, brightly colored insect in his hands.  Then as the Selok withdrew its attention, the big hands closed; the puzzle crumpled into broken shards and the lights died.  
"You don’t have much time."
Chapter 9:  Jak
That was it.  Bolan’s ultimatum delivered, Field led Jak to where an alley opened into a familiar street and released him there, free to run to the end of his too-short leash.  Killing Bolon was impossible, he conceded.  Much as Jak would like to see him dead, Bolon was too well protected for Jak to reach him.  Tonight was the closest he’d ever come, and that only because Bolon had wanted him there.  The Regent’s bastard was just too powerful in the secret politics of the planet Shadriss, untouchable here in his own city of Namdrik.  
Yet, just thinking about the danger to Tessa brought back that sick, shaking rage.  He’d claimed Tessa was out of town, but the lie had bought only a few days.  Jak wanted with all his heart to protect her, not make her the victim of Bolon’s petty revenge.  His plan to give her the first half of Kamura’s payment so that she could get off planet seemed hopeless now.  Passenger transports came to Shadriss no more than two or three times a year.  Without him present to protect her, she wouldn’t survive long enough to board one.
That left one option—to take her with him when he took Kamura to Tekena.  It was still just suicide by another name.  If he could find a mobbie Alpha willing to trade to arrange transport— If he could find something to trade— Or, maybe he could hide her in the desert until a transport came?  Sure, he could hide dainty, delicate Tessa in the golden Waste with the poison-fanged moki and a million other dangers.  No, there must be a place where she could hide in Namdrik.  Maybe her High Lord would let her stay on his estate until she could arrange to leave.
Okay, he’d go back to his place, get the Terran, get her into the dress he’d bought her, and then they’d go to Tessa’s.  Somehow, he’d have to convince the one woman who mattered to him to go into hiding while helped another woman who he wished he’d never seen.  And very important, he had to make sure that his payment was put into the databanks in Tessa’s name.  If by some favor of the Lost Gods she survived, he wanted to be sure that she had the Terran’s 10,000 credits.
It didn’t take long to walk back to his building through the thinning crowds.  The market was closed, and most of the people were heading home.  He went inside, his head still spinning with fruitless ideas for helping Tessa, and then he hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, studying the door to his room.  It gaped like the mouth of a trap.  He’d locked it before he left, and the lock was a good one, tough to break open.  He wiped a beading of sweat away from his upper lip and studied the door.  The lock seemed intact, which meant that the Terran woman must have opened it from inside.
Could Kamura have been foolish enough to leave?  Perhaps it was the Regent’s men, he thought as he edged closer along the wall.  But surely, she’d have recognized those blue tunics?  And they’d have smashed the door down or blasted it open, and there was no sign of any damage.  
Jak went through the doorway with a roll and a turn that brought him up under the window on the opposite wall.  Knife in hand, he once again earnestly wished that he had a blaster as well.  He was out of the line of the light, and anybody else in the room would be in clear view.  But one quick glance told him that whoever had been here was long gone.
Kamura lay huddled on the floor, naked, bloody, and sobbing.  He hurried to her side.  The cut on her head had opened again, and her face was painted with dried blood.  He smelled the coppery scent of it over the odor of his own sweat and the dusty decay of the walls.  He checked for new injuries, but he saw only some bruises he hadn't seen before.
Slowly, he straightened and looked around the single, shabby room that had been his home since he’d left Tessa’s care.  He’d never owned much, but now even what little he’d had was gone.  Food and spare clothing had vanished.  The cot was ripped to pieces.  The door hung off his single cupboard, and a quick glance showed him that the shelves were swept clean.  All he had left were the clothes he stood in.
Kneeling on the floor next to the sobbing Kamura, he felt the memories rising, and, for once, he didn’t fight them.  As always, one was closer to his own feelings of the moment, one memory crowded out the others.  This time he threw himself into the remnants of that other existence as if seeking to escape from the wreckage of his own.
. . . an officer of Rome, riding home on my battle-scarred gelding, heart sick and almost as weary as my horse.  I ride from the defeat of our legions until I reach a well-loved stone house in a land of vineyards.  Barbarian tribes have been seen nearby, a neighbor tells me.  But none have passed near my farm, and I think all I love are safe .  . .  smell of burning . .  .  fire in the atrium and swept all the rooms clean to feed it.  I call for my slaves.  No one comes . .  .  my son, hanging from a laurel tree.  My daughters—gone . .  .  My wife lies naked and bloody on the floor of the bedroom, and does not answer when I call her name . . . .
"They were only children!"
The cry broke the spell of the long-ago horror.  Jak's thoughts cleared, and he looked at the woman next to him who was not his wife, and not dead, either.  
"They were only children!" Kamura repeated, her eyes wide and full of fear.
Jak started to place a comforting hand on her shoulder but drew back when she flinched away from him.
"Are you all right?" he asked.  "Tell me what happened."  
Looking around at the mess that was the remains of his few belongings, he could guess.
"They were children," Kamura moaned.  She rocked in pain, holding her injured arm to her chest.  "One of them was sick.  There were ulcers on his arms."
"Mobbies," Jak said.  
He should have warned her.  Yet, he had told her to keep the door locked.  Once again, she was lucky to be alive.
 "Three children knocked at the door," she said.  "They were begging for food."
"And you let them in."
"Not right away."  She glared at him as if he had accused her of rank stupidity.  "I looked through the peephole first.  They were so young.  Two little girls and a little boy.  The boy had ulcers on his leg.  I let him in so I could give him some of the antibiotic ointment you used on me."
He sighed.  "Let me guess.  As soon as you opened the door, they knocked you down, and the rest came tearing in."  
It was a favorite mobbie trick, although usually successful only in the more affluent parts of Namdrik.  People living in this area usually knew all too much about mobbies and how they operated.  Some of them, some very few who managed to survive to adulthood, had even been mobbies in a past that they never admitted to having.  How could any grown woman be so naive?    
"They were so young," she repeated.  "How can their families allow—" 
"What families?" he interrupted.  "Mobbies are nobody’s children.  Nobody wants them.  They live by begging and stealing, and they don’t live long."  
Jak sat down on the floor, suddenly tired.  
"Isn’t there anything we can do for them?"
"For mobbies?"  It took him a moment to realize that she was serious.  He waved a hand at the empty room.  "Haven’t I done enough?  You just donated everything I had.  Anyway, the Regent’s men will pick them up in the next sweep."
"What will they do with the children?"
"Kill them, of course." 
"Can they do that?  Just kill them out of hand?" she asked in horror.  She clutched the cloak, twisting it in her hands.
"The Regent can do whatever he damn well pleases," he told her bluntly.  "And so will Luan n’Chall, if he lives to become Overlord.  Besides, most people here think the only thing mobbies are good for is making fertilizer.  They use the bones for calcium."
"Stop it!"  Her hands went over her ears.  
The blood on her face had dried and cracked.  One eye was rainbow-colored, and her blood-matted hair hadn’t been combed since the night he found her.  Her arm was splinted with rags and trash.  She huddled filthy and naked on the floor, looking as lost and miserable as if she were no more than a mobbie herself.  
Despite his own fears, Jak felt pity for her.  
"Do you know what kind of place this planet is?  Did you know anything about Shadriss before you came here?"
"Of course, I knew!  I read all the official histories.  I know about how this miserable backwater has been cut off since the fall of the Confederacy.  I know about the alien ruins and how they’ve been exploited.  I’m here because of them.  I know about the river trade and the geography."
"Tourist stuff.  You never had a clue what you were getting into."
"How could anything have prepared me for this debased world!"
Then she began to cry, just like any ordinary unhappy woman and not at all like a Daughter of the Thousand Families of Terra.  Jak’s anger faded as he put his arms around the frightened girl and let her cry on his shoulder.  When the tears passed, Kamura still looked tired and battered, but not so much afraid.
"I’m sorry."  
She drew away and wiped her face with her hand as she sat up straighter.
"It’s natural to cry when you hurt."
But the moment of weakness was over.  Kamura pulled herself together.  
"Did you book passage to Tekena for me?" she demanded.
She might be a naked, bloody mess, but that imperious tone was back in her voice.
"That’s not exactly something I can just stop by the port and do," he said.  
He wouldn’t tell her about Bolon and his threat to Tessa.  
"What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?" she demanded.
One thing he could count on, Jak thought.  Any time he started feeling any sympathy for Kamura, she was quick to make him forget it.
"We can’t use any of the usual routes.  All transport is full to overflowing with people going to attend the Joining.  But I think that there’s another way that we can get there."  He held up a hand to forestall Kamura’s protest.  "Hear me out.  Someone wants you dead, someone powerful.  Someone who has spared no expense to get rid of you.  Right now, they think they've succeeded.  Let's make sure they go on thinking that.  Now, I think I can arrange a trip on a cargo barge."  Well, that wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t totally a lie.  "I have a friend who has a working com.  You can record the transaction at her place before we leave."
He untied the bundle of things he’d bought from around his waist. 
"Here’s a dress for you, and a comb," he said, handing them to the naked girl.  He held up two one-liter water bottles.  "You can use the water in the yellow bottle to wash with, but don’t drink it.  The blue bottle is drinking water.  We’re leaving here as soon as you get cleaned up."
Chapter 10:  Tessa
"You what!" Tessa spat.  She was so angry she could barely get the words out.  How could Jak have got himself into so much trouble in just one day?  "Have you lost your mind?  You might as well have challenged n’Tau and been done with it!"
"I know it was stupid, but I just couldn’t leave her there to die."
It was too early to face this kind of trouble, Tessa thought.  Yes, the sun said it was late afternoon, but she’d spent most of the night with High Lord Cav n’Chall and had only just risen.  She hadn’t even finished her first cup of tea when she’d opened her door to Jak and saw that tall Terran bitch standing behind him.  She didn’t know why the woman was with Jak, but she was certain the reason boded no good for anyone.  She’d dragged them both inside, fast, before anyone noticed them, or so she hoped.  The story Jak told her confirmed her worst fears.
Tessa looked up at Jak with long stare that brought a flush to his scarred face.  Green eyes stared back at her with uneasy defiance.  
"No, you couldn’t leave her," she said, "not you."
She knew Jak couldn’t remember who he was or where he’d come from.  He should have been nothing but an animal, a mindless body operating on instinct and desire.  Instead, he displayed a stubborn sense of integrity that baffled her.  Where did it come from?  How could a man who couldn’t even remember his own name still have that core of honor?  Irritating, inconvenient—she glared at him—no, make that deadly honor.
Tessa blew out a noisy, exasperated sigh, and threw herself onto her sofa.  She leaned on one elbow, her free hand caressing the ivory velvet upholstery.  She’d gathered many beautiful things around her over the years.  Usually, they brought her comfort, reminding her of how far she’d come from the frightened slave girl she’d once been.  Usually, but not today.  She glared at the two still standing just inside her doorway.
"Sit!" she snapped at them.  Jak promptly moved to his usual comfortable position on the floor at the foot of her sofa.
"I’ve agreed to provide ample compensation—"
"Oh, just shut up, and sit down!"  
She glared at the tall, young woman as Kamura of Family Mabutu settled onto the chair across from her.  The Terran was battered and bruised, wearing just a simple shift, her arm in a sling.  Not so high and mighty now, are you, Tessa thought, although the arrogant bitch was still not above endangering both their lives to suit her needs.  
"I found her in the alley outside the bar," Jak explained, still trying to justify what he’d done.  "She was hurt, and n’Tau was gone, probably arranging for a disposal team, so I took her to my place."
"I must reach Tekena," Kamura interrupted.  "It’s imperative that I be there before the new Overlord joins with the God Core in the Black Palace."
"I don’t care what’s ‘imperative’," Tessa snarled.  "And that mumbo jumbo about being joined to alien technology is just a myth.  The Lingyang n’Chall obviously made up the story to consolidate her power and the priests have backed her up to keep theirs."

She glared at the other woman, and then took a closer look.  Oh, Lady Ur’s tits!  She’d been fooled at first by the Terran’s height and confident posture.  Kamura was just a girl, in her late adolescence at best.  What was her Family thinking to send her to a planet like Shadriss?  Tessa considered herself a tough, savvy woman, and even she had a difficult time staying alive in this lawless place.  Yet, this child thought she could manage her Family business here?  It was absurd!
"It is not a myth," Kamura asserted.  "Once Joined, the God Core becomes permanently fused to the connector.  The Overlord and the device are one until death."
Tessa ignored her.  "Do you realize what you’ve done?" she demanded of Jak.
"I did what I had to do," he answered.  
"You’ve endangered us both to save this silly girl."
"I’m not a ‘silly girl’," Kamura informed her.  "I am a Recorder for Family Mabutu.  I must reach Tekena before the Prime joins with the God Core so I can legalize the trading rights between Family Mobutu and Shadriss."
Right, Tessa thought.  That story might fool Jak, but it wasn’t good enough for her.  There had to be more to this than simply witnessing the ascension of the Overlord of an obscure and backward planet.  Still, she was sure that getting the truth out of this girl would take a lot more time and effort than she wanted to invest in obtaining that knowledge.  It didn’t matter why Kamura was here.  All that mattered was that she was here and that her presence put Jak and herself in even more danger than usual.
As she often did when she felt nervous, Tessa ran her fingers over the small statue of Lady Ur that stood in a niche by the couch.  She didn’t believe in the goddess, but she did have faith in the thousand credits that was hidden inside the statue.  She caught Jak watching her, and moved her hand away from the niche.  She’d told him the Lady Ur’s secret once and, if he remembered that, he’d realize just how afraid she felt.
But from his spot on the floor, Jak gazed up at her with calm confidence that said he was sure she could salvage even this disaster.  She knew he loved her; it was her business to make men love her.  She’d taken seeing into men’s minds and manipulating their hearts from a hard-learned skill to an art form.  But most of the men she used thought of her only as a pretty toy.  Only Jak seemed to see the woman inside the artful package she presented—the hard hearted, hard headed, ambitious woman—and he loved her all the more for it.  Tessa found Jak’s attitude strange, even disturbing, but she’d think about that later, she told herself.  Business first.
Still, she was glad she donned her favorite peach-colored silk robe and that gold glinted at her ears and neck.  She shook her head, as if to throw off the soft ideas that were clouding her vision of what needed to be done.  She looked at Kamura.  Girl or not, she had to go.
Chapter 11:  Kamura
"Would it be too much to ask that you two to stay on task?" Kamura demanded.  
She really wanted to shake them both until their teeth rattled.  Her face hurt.  Her arm hurt more.  She was filthy and dressed in nothing but a thin shift and ruined sandals.  But she would take control of this situation.  It was what her grandmother would have done.  
"I have important business in Tekena, and I’m willing to pay a large sum to this man to take me there." 
She smoothed the cheap white cotton of her dress over her knees and looked with distaste at her dirty feet.  Her green silk evening sandals were ruined, the fabric torn and filthy with dust from the street.  And she stank; she could smell her own sweat and the rotten scent of dried blood in her hair.  She wanted her own clothes and, above all, she wanted a shower, a long, hot, shower where she could wash away the grime of Shadriss.  The meager liter of water Jak had given her to wash with hadn’t been nearly enough.  She could almost hear her grandmother’s dry voice telling her that while she was at it, she might as well wish for a luxury aircar to whisk her to Tekena.  
Still, she was sure she’d feel less awkward if she were clean.  Was that so much to ask?  Part of her discomfort, she knew, was because the woman who’d opened the door was the most stunningly beautiful person that Kamura had ever encountered.  Veloran, she had to be Veloran.  Human beauty was determined not only by the size and shape of facial features, but by the symmetry of their alignment.  The Veloran woman’s face was the most perfect that she’d ever seen, as was every other part of her.  She was like a work of art come to life.  She’d heard of Veloran culture.  Who hadn’t?  People were fascinated by the odd colony that had spent the last fifty generations in search of an ideal of physical perfection.  But the reality sitting in front of her far outstripped the tales.  
"Oh, forgive me if I fail to attend to your every word," the woman said, her sweet voice heavy with mock courtesy.  
The many gold bracelets on her left arm glittered from wrist nearly to her elbow.  Tessa, Jak had called her Tessa.  Kamura ignored Tessa’s sarcastic tone and set aside her own discomfort.  It didn’t matter how dirty she was, she told herself; she was here on Family business.  
"He said you could help, but so far all I see is a woman who seems unable to focus on the topic at hand.  We’re here only to use your com.  I just need to upload the transaction to Family Mobutu’s database."
Then she remembered the meaning of those bracelets on Shadriss.  A hired companion!  The Veloran was a hired companion, and Jak had brought her here.  What was he thinking?  No doubt, this Tessa was well trained and very well paid, judging by the number of bracelets.  But no matter how beautiful she was, Kamura had expected Jak to take her to someone who ran some sort of transport business.  Yet, here they were in the small apartment of this unreal looking woman who seemed anything but pleased to see them.  
Kamura shifted uncomfortably on the carved wooden chair.  Tessa, draped over an upholstered sofa, aimed a sapphire blue glare her way.  Jak sat cross-legged on the floor at the Veloran’s feet, as if that were his usual place.  Through open doorways, Kamura could see a small bathroom, a bedroom, and a shady balcony.  Shelves on one side of the main room held a few dishes and some baskets that Kamura assumed contained food.  In truth, it was a simple place, yet luxurious when compared to the bare room where Jak lived.  Or had lived, she thought with a guilty flush, remembering the mess the mobbies had made of his few possessions.
Kamura felt lost.  It was as Jak had said.  All her training in languages, diplomacy, and trading law had left her unprepared for the reality of being stranded on Shadriss.  She’d been so proud when Grandmother Mobutu had selected her to make the journey on her own.  Normally, a new graduate like herself would have made twenty or more trips under the supervision of an experienced Recorder before being assigned a solo mission.  But everything had always been so easy for Kamura; she’d thought the assignment was a mark of her Grandmother Mobutu’s high regard.  Now, she had to wonder if the decision indicated that her grandmother was losing her judgment.
It didn’t help that next to the Veloran she felt too tall, too heavy . . . too plain.  She took a deep breath.
"May I remind you that I am a fully-trained Recorder?  I’ve survived testing that a mere courtesan couldn’t even imagine—"
"You’re trained to survive in pretty places with pretty people," Jak interrupted.  "You don’t have a clue how to get on here."
Abruptly, she realized that he was angry and afraid.  Angry with her for daring to criticize the Veloran, afraid that he’d be unable to protect Tessa.  Meanwhile, the Veloran stretched out her legs and pushed her toes against Jak’s shoulder in an intimate gesture.  
"What is the matter with you?" Tessa demanded of her.  "There’s only room for one idea in that tiny little brain of yours?"
"Do you always speak to your clients with such diplomacy?" Kamura responded.  She had never in her life been insulted as often and as freely as she had been while on Shadriss.  But no matter the damage to her pride, she had to make them understand the importance of getting to Tekena.  Yet, how could she do that without revealing the secrets of her Family?  Maybe a part of the truth would be enough to satisfy them.
"I must reach Tekena before the Twins are full again," Kamura said once again.  She tried without success to keep frustration and impatience out of her voice.  "The Prime is almost fifteen years standard, and the Regency is about to end."
"We know that, girl," Tessa said, annoyance plain in her voice.
"It’s about to end, all right," Jak told her, "but not the way you think.  The touts are giving odds that the Prime will be dead before he’s crowned.  And rumor is that Tain, the younger brother, is dead already."
Kamura scowled at the big, scar-faced man in frustration.  Grass green eyes stared back at her.  One side of his mouth lifted in a sneer that she was beginning to realize was only a twist of the ugly scar that ran diagonally across his face.  Why couldn’t he just keep quiet and do what she’d hired him to do?
"What does Family Mobutu care about Shadriss?"  Tessa demanded, as if she had a right to know.  "This planet is backward and poor.  We exist on the remnants of Confederacy technology and subsistence farming.  There’s nothing here for you."
"My reasons are Family business."  She took a deep breath and prepared to give them part of the story.  Her grandmother wouldn’t approve, but she had to tell them something if she wanted their help.  "My mother’s cousin was the mother of the Prime.  She died with her husband when their aircar crashed, but the relationship still stands."
They stared at her in disbelief, as if a Mobutu of Terra claiming kinship with the Prime of Shadriss were too outrageous to be true.   
"The Family Mobutu still has an interest in seeing that the Luan n’Chall becomes the new Overlord of Shadriss," Kamura lied.  She shrugged, doing her best to keep her increasing feeling of desperation off her face and out of her voice.  Her head and her arm throbbed with every beat of her pulse.  "As you say, it’s a poor world, but it holds important trade goods.  At least," she added, "items that my Family is convinced are important."
"What?"  Jak asked.  "What trade goods?  There’s nothing on this dump that anybody wants."
Once again, she decided to give them part of the truth.  "There are the alien artifacts."
"The black stuff?" Jak asked.  He shrugged.  "It’s worm crap.  Even I know that.  Some kind of sentient worms here that crapped out that shiny, black stuff and then used it to make tools and even whole buildings.  Your Family wants that?"
"Yes, Family Mobutu wants the ‘worm crap,’" she snapped.  "And they were called Selok omniphages, not worms."
Still sounding skeptical, Jak said, "They’re worms to me.  That stuff’s old, it’s ugly, and it’s useless.  Definitely not worth dying for."
"In the correct market, those artifacts are quite valuable," Kamura replied, and that was true enough.  Not that her grandmother would ever let any of them leave Family Mobutu hands.  They were omniphage artifacts, made by beings who’d been controlled by the colony minds of intelligent bacteria.  True, they would have been mere curiosities were it not for the information gathered at such cost to her Family.  But now they were much more than that.  They were keys to understanding the danger that threatened them all.  
"I must be in Tekena before the Prime joins with the God Core.  It’s the only way to ensure that Family Mobutu maintains our trading rights with Shadriss." 
"You mean, it’s the only way to make sure that no one else gets their hands on the artifacts," Tessa said.
"Correct," Kamura agreed.  
She would agree to anything if only they would get her to Tekena before the Joining.  Her grandmother was convinced that the God Core was the key to the power of the omniphage.  Family Mobutu had spent years of research learning to read the writing the Selok had left on nearly every centimeter of their constructions.  They’d found that on its own a omniphage might control from three to six bodies.  But through the God Core device, a primary omniphage might control an entire planet.  
Or more.
The omniphage had lived in hosts, the beings Jak described as worms, but they could use other bodies when those were available.  The hereditary rulers of Shadriss carried omniphage bacteria in their bloodstream.  Tests, done in secret, confirmed that the bacteria were only present in the Overlord and in the Prime.  They suspected that the priests of Nish somehow introduced the bacteria into the Prime, who later became Overlord, possibly in one of their many ceremonies.  But the phage seemed dormant, unable to organize itself, unable to take complete control of its human host and, most important, unable to make full use of the power of the ancient artifact.  But there was a chance that it wouldn’t remain dormant forever.  That, however, was not information to be shared with these two.  
Her mission was to learn all that she could about the God Core.  Since the death of the last Overlord, the device had remained hidden deep in the main temple of the priests of Nish.  Grandmother Mobutu had sent agents to retrieve it, but none had returned.  But the God Core would be brought out on the day the Prime became the new Overlord.  She would record what she could of the artifact, and of what happened to the boy who carried the omniphage.  
If necessary, she would destroy them both.
Chapter 12:  Tessa
Tessa rose to her feet.  It irritated her that even standing, she was still barely two heads taller than the seated Terran.  Being short was one of the failings that had led her father to despise her.  Impatiently, she reached down and tugged on Jak’s arm. 
"Come with me," she commanded.  "We need to speak privately."  She turned to Kamura.  "And you, you stay put, stay quiet, and try not to make things worse."
Jak stood without protest, as Tessa grabbed his wrist and dragged him into her bedroom.  It was a small space with room only for her bed, with its red coverlet and many bright pillows, and a wardrobe where she kept her clothes.  The window at the head of the bed provided a cheerful light that seemed to mock her purpose.
She shut the door behind her, and turned to find Jak looking around the room with interest.  Ah, that was right; she’d never brought him in here before.  She’d rented a small room across the hall and let him stay there while she’d nursed him back to health.  This room was her sanctum, and she’d never allowed anyone else in here before this moment, not even her most favored clients.  But she needed to speak to him privately, and she could hardly make the Terran wait outside the door of her apartment.
Still, it was amazing how Jak seemed to fill up the small space.  He stood close to her, big and warm and, somehow, comforting.  She blinked to clear her thoughts.  Enough of that!  He wasn’t going to like what she had to say. 
Anticipating her objections, Jak repeated his earlier statement, "I couldn’t leave her there to die."  His voice was low and earnest with a pleading tone that belied the twisted sneer of his face.
"Yes, you could have.  Yes, you should have.  But maybe there’s still time to rectify the situation.  Kill her now," Tessa told him.  
His vest hung open, and she thumped his bare chest with her finger to emphasize her words.  The sight of his pilot’s medallion dangling so close to her hand strengthened her resolve.  
"Kill her and dump her body in the Ur for the banderri to eat, and maybe n’Tau will forget you ever saw them together."
Jak shifted and looked away, gazing over the top of her head as if he could find inspiration in the sea of flat roofs visible outside the room’s single window.  
"The Gambler isn’t likely to forget, no matter what I do," he said.  "I’ll have to face him sooner or later.  And there’s more—"
She took hold of the front of his vest with both hands and gave it a sharp tug.  "Jak!  You’re supposed to be protecting me!  Not risking your life for a stranger."
How dare this stupid girl put her pilot at risk!  Jak was hers, all hers.  Yes, she’d found him injured and near death in an alley and brought him to her place to nurse him back to health.  The irony of the situation was clear to her, but so were the differences.  Jak wasn’t part of some great trading Family.  He wasn’t targeted by the Regent.  Above all, he wasn’t some naive child about to drag them all down with her.  She let go of his vest and stepped back.  He was too close.  It made it hard for her to think clearly.
"Jak, be sensible!"  
He shook his head.  "Were you being sensible when you told Bolon to go feed the banderri?"
Tessa’s blue eyes narrowed in outrage, and her golden skin turned white. 
"I don’t mean you should have given in to Bolon," he said, holding up a hand as if to forestall an attack.  "I just mean that there are some things you can’t make yourself do, no matter how ‘sensible’ the idea seems."  He rested both his hands on her shoulders, a warm, reassuring weight.  "That’s why I helped Kamura.  Because I can’t walk away from someone who needs me.  And I tried to tell you, there’s worse.  Bolon gave me an ultimatum today.  Tessa, he’s ordered me to kill you.  I told him you were out of the city, but that won’t buy us much time."
Tessa looked at him helplessly, the outrage fading from her face as nausea welled up.  Everything she’d ever hoped for or dreamed of was dying around her.  She remembered the day her father had sold her, the nausea, the disbelief.  It was happening again.
"You can leave Shadriss," Jak urged.  The fingers of his right hand gently brushed her cheek.  "Listen to Kamura.  She’s willing to pay 10,000 credits.  Half up front."
"Jak—"
"Half up front," Jak repeated, his voice louder as he tried to make his point.  "In your name.  You’d be safe.  You’ll be able to leave Shadriss and have a decent life somewhere better.  You just have to hide until you can get a berth on a passenger ship.  Your High Lord could—"
"He will be no help."
Then she paused, shocked.  Jak didn’t expect to make it back to her.  He didn’t expect to survive the trip.  He’d let his sense of honor back him into an impossible corner, and he was still trying to save her.  But what would be the point of leaving Shadriss without Jak?  How could she go on without him?
"Jak, you’re not thinking this through.  I’m nothing but a pretty toy to any of my clients.  Bolan has the Regent’s backing.  None of them will hide me or take any risk for me.  And there are no more than three or four passenger ships through here in a year.  No matter where I hide, Bolon will find me.  Without you here to protect me, I won’t live until one arrives."
"I know that," he said.  "I just hoped . . . . I thought maybe we could find a mobbie Alpha with connections on the river . . . ."
She watched the pain and frustration wash over his face as he realized the full implications of what his act of ‘mercy’ had done.  He dropped down on the edge of her bed and put his head in his hands.  Tentatively, Tessa put her hand on his broad shoulder.  Think, she told herself.  You’re the clever one, the one who always comes up with ideas.  Think!
Why had Family Mobutu sent a young, inexperienced Recorder to Shadriss to record the Joining of the Prime and the God Core?  Tessa didn’t buy Kamura’s story about trading contracts or the collector value of the alien artifacts.  The worms’ artifacts were curiosities at best.  And why send Kamura alone?  She was so young; she must be barely out of training, with little or no experience.  Did Family Mobutu have so few Recorders that this girl was all they could spare?  There was more to this than Kamura was telling them, but the why of it didn’t matter.  What mattered was that if Kamura was truly a Recorder, she had authority to spend Family Mobutu’s assets.  
"All right," she told him.  "You’ll escort this girl to Tekena, and I’ll go with you."  He raised his head, but kept silent.  If the only safe place for her was by Jak’s side, then by his side she would be.  "You had the right idea, using the mobbies to buy passage on a cargo transport, but all three of us will go.  Only we won’t do it for a mere 10,000 credits.  If we live through this, we’re going to have enough money for both of us to be free of this place forever.  So, let me do the talking and go along with whatever I say.  Okay?"
Still seated on her bed, Jak looked up at her, his confidence in her plain to read.  He trusted her so completely . . . it made her feel strange inside.  She wasn’t sure she liked the feeling.  
"Let’s go talk to the girl," Tessa said.  
She herded him back to the living room.  She wanted off Shadriss, and she wanted Jak with her as her as her pilot.  And she as good at getting what she wanted.
Kamura was still waiting for them when they returned to the living room.  She sat with her legs crossed, very much the grand lady, despite her bruises.  But the nervous tapping of her foot told of her real feelings.  Tessa gave the girl a cool glance.  Jak made mistakes because he was too softhearted for his own good.  This girl made mistakes because she’d never had to deal with the consequences of her actions.  It was up to her to try to turn both their mistakes into the outcome she wanted.
"You say you are a Recorder for Family Mobutu," Tessa began as she and Jak once more took their accustomed places.
"That is true."
"If I understand correctly, that means that you not only record binding contracts, you also have authority to disburse Family assets, up to and including everything Family Mobutu owns."
Kamura’s eyes narrowed.  "You seem well versed in our legal measures."
"I’m well versed in many things," Tessa told her.  
That included reading people.  Tessa knew that charm would get her nowhere with this girl, but Kamura was desperate to reach Tekena.  Why the urgency?  Despite what Kamura had told them, Tessa doubted that the trade in those odd shapes of black, glass-like substance was great enough to merit risking this girl’s life.  Unless it was the God Core itself she was really after?  Tessa knew about it only from legend.  Was it simple enough for the Recorder to copy?  She shrugged.  All that mattered was determining just how badly the girl wanted it.
"The mating of the Twins is only a few days away.  All transport to Tekena is already full of passengers who want to see the joining just as much as you do."
"Surely, there must be something.  A private aircar, even a ground-car—"
"Neither is an option for you.  You’re in trouble with both the legitimate government of Shadriss and with the most powerful of the local criminal gangs.  And yes, n’Tau is a criminal, no matter how pretty you found him."
"I didn’t find him pretty," Kamura muttered.  "Just—suitable.  As an escort.  Nothing more."
"Regardless, no legitimate means of travel is available to you," Tessa said.  "However, I think it’s possible to get you to Tekena by less conventional means.  The three of us will be traveling together.  It won’t be easy, and it won’t be pleasant, so get over any idea that you’re going to be traveling in the sort of comfort that you’re used to."
"You’re coming, too?  There is no need for your services on this journey."
Tessa regarded her from narrowed eyes.  "You could not buy my services, ignorant girl, not with all the credits Family Mobutu possesses.  I have my own reasons for making the trip.  If you want to go to Tekena, the three of us will go together."
Kamura’s face was hard to read beneath the bruising but Tessa saw that her words brought a flush of anger mixed with relief.  Yes, it was just possible that the girl was desperate enough to pay her price.
"Just what do you have in mind?"
Tessa noted that Jak watched her closely, but he said nothing.  That was another thing she liked about him.  He knew their relative strengths and was willing to play to them. 
"Whatever your intentions, there’s only one way left to get you to Tekena.  And it will cost more than a  mere 10,000 credits."
Kamura frowned but didn’t protest.  Tessa allowed herself a brief sense of triumph.  So, this trip was important, although probably not for the reason the girl had given.  If she got her price, if they survived, then nothing on this worn out planet would ever matter again.
"How much?" Kamura snapped.  "How many credits do you think you can force out of me?"
Tessa gave her a small, tight smile.  Yes!  
"The 10,000 will do, but we want a ship, as well."
"A ship?"  Kamura managed to sound bored, but Tessa caught the quick intake of breath.
Tessa looked at Jak and willed him to be silent.  She knew he was surprised, too, but they had to appear united.  With the credits and a ship, they could start their own trading company.  They could be free.  They could have a real life.
Then Kamura asked, "What sort of ship?" and Tessa knew she’d won.
"Something small, fast," she said, feeling almost faint with relief.  "Manageable with a crew of two."
"Cargo or passenger?"
"Both.  Something that will carry either or both."
Jak spoke.  "A Morgan-Haruka Class 9," he said.  "That’s what we want.  No more than ten years use on the engines.  Laser canons fore and aft.  Full registry and ownership in—in Tessa’s name."
"Yes," Tessa agreed, "in my name."  
Because Jak had no legal identity on Shadriss.  His pilot’s medallion might reveal more once they were able to connect to better databanks.  But there was a chance that he would be as anonymous elsewhere as he was here.  For the first time, she realized just how isolated Jak’s lack of memory made him.
"We’ll travel to Tekena on a cargo barge," she said.  "It’s illegal for them to carry passengers, but they’ll do it anyway if you have the right connections."
"And you have?" the Terran asked.
"We know where to find them," Tessa evaded.  
The mobbies were the key.  The mobbie packs were involved in every illegal activity on Shadriss.  They just had to find a mobbie Alpha willing to do business with them, one who could negotiate passage for three on a cargo barge bound for Tekena.
"Very well," Kamura said.  "But the ship won’t be put in your name until after I reach Tekena and see the Prime joined."
"In that case, you’ll pay the full 10,000 credits up front," Tessa haggled.  
Of the three of them, the girl was the least likely to survive the trip.  With the credits in her name, she and Jak might still have a chance to escape Shadriss.
It took another hour, but they finally settled on 7,000 credits up front, the remainder and the ship to be released to Tessa when Kamura arrived in Tekena.  And there would be no waiting while Kamura recorded the joining of the Prime and the God Core.
"Now that that’s settled," Tessa said, "would either of you care for some tea?"
Chapter 13:  Jak
Jak decided it would be better if he went alone to contact the mobbies, but he was sure that neither of the women would agree to being left behind while he did the dangerous work of negotiating with the little monsters.  Jak didn’t think of himself as weak, but standing up to the combined wills of Tessa and Kamura was probably more than he could handle.  So, he decided to do what men in his situation had always done—sneak out and leave them both safely at Tessa’s place while he arranged transportation.  One person could handle the transaction.  There was no need to risk more.
They’d spent the remainder of the day hiding out at Tessa’s place, napping, eating, waiting, in a state of tense boredom that wore on them all.  Through the afternoon, his mind kept twisting, trying to find some way to leave Tessa safely in Namdrik.  Finally, he had to admit that there was no safety for her here.  In truth, there was no safety for Tessa anywhere on Shadriss, but at least he could offer some protection so long as she was at his side.  So, he’d do it; find a mobbie Alpha willing to work with them, and use some of Tessa’s credits to buy passage on one of the boats that worked on the river.  
Jak glanced at his companions.  Kamura was asleep on Tessa’s sofa, her dark hair a tangle against the ivory cloth.  Good, she needed to rest and heal as much as possible before their journey.  Tessa had been dozing in a hammock on the balcony where she could catch the afternoon breeze, but she came inside the moment he stood.  So much for his plan to leave without her knowing about it.
Sapphire blue eyes, golden skin, shining dark curls; she was the most beautiful woman on Shadriss, the most beautiful woman anywhere.  But she was no pretty doll.  She had an iron will and a hard, calculating intelligence that kept her going no matter how tough things got.  
"You’re not afraid of children, are you?" she teased.
"Right, children.  Cute kids."
"You’ve dealt with them before."  She reached out to straighten his pilot’s medallion so that it hung evenly on its chain.
"True.  But not with so much at stake."  Not with Tessa’s life at stake, he thought.
"You’re worried about the Terran, aren’t you?"
He glanced over at Kamura, still asleep on the couch.  He kept his voice low so as not to wake her.  "Sure.  She’s dangerous.  Hell, she’s a menace.  She doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t even want to know."  
Stepping away from Tessa before he gave in to the urge to take her into his arms, he reached for the door.
"You’re going now?"  Tessa asked, blue eyes widening in surprise.
"Yeah.  Time to see if this crazy plan will really work."
"Wait, I’m going with you."
"No.  Stay here with Kamura.  And try to keep her out of trouble."
"I’m going with you," she insisted.
"Please, Tessa, stay here.  There’s no telling what she’ll do if she’s left on her own."
Tessa hesitated, but Jak knew he was right and the logical, practical Tessa couldn’t pretend otherwise. 
"All right," she said at last, "but take care of yourself, Jak.  And wear this."  She reached into the cupboard next to her and pulled out a small locator, already tied to a leather thong that would let him wear it around his wrist.  Jak felt himself flush.  It was the sort of thing a woman might put around the neck of her pet.  
"I don’t need that."  
"You do if you want to leave without me," she said.  "I need to know that I can find you.  Is that so much to ask?"
The hint of pleading in her voice was impossible to resist.  He’d do anything for her; even wear the damn pet locator.  He’d just have to make sure everything went well so Tessa wouldn’t need to follow him.  He let her tie the little tattletale onto his wrist and then crossed the threshold. 
"Lock up after me, will you?"
"Jak?"
He looked back at her.  What now?
Tessa walked to him and stood very close; her blue eyes were serious.  "I’ll lock up for now, but if you’re not back by morning, I’m coming after you."  And then she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on his lips.
Jak felt the flush on his cheeks at the same time that his mouth stretched into an idiot grin.  He closed the door before he did anything stupid like take her in his arms and tell her how he felt about her.  Leaving with her kiss on his lips was one thing; leaving with her handprint on his cheek was another.  
The smile faded as he climbed the stairs.  The door to the roof of Tessa’s building opened easily under his hand.  Not much worry about thieves or mobbies in this part of town.  He saw no one else as he emerged onto the flat rooftop deck, only an empty scattering of lounge chairs and tables.  The warm air was thick as honey, sensual on the bare skin of his chest and arms.  Heat lightning flickered in the distance, dancing across the Waste.  Jak drew a deep breath and began moving across the flat roofs, jumping the gaps between buildings when he had too, climbing when that was necessary, but always moving north, away from the river and into mostly ruined section of the city.  
Gradually, the lighted windows became fewer, the smells grew more rank, and Jak was forced to walk wide around patches of debris that had fallen away from the building cores.  In the days of the Confederacy, when Shadriss had been a thriving colony, these buildings had housed apartments and businesses.  Banks, bakers, beauticians, families, and social clubs.  But the population of Shadriss had been shrinking for more than five hundred years.  Now, these buildings were home to rats, to stray cats, and to mobbies.  
Twice, he had to step wide over rusted beams.  Once, a gaping hole in the wall led off into vile smelling darkness, and he heard a slithering, like claws on stone.  He unsheathed his knife and gave the opening a wide berth as he passed it.  He didn’t need rat trouble just now.  
He thought briefly of dropping the tattletale down one of the holes, but he knew Tessa would be watching for the signal on her screen.  If it were stationary for too long, she’d come looking.  Best to keep it on his wrist.
Once he was well within the most deserted sector of Namdrik, he paused to stare into the deep violet shadows that lay across the flat planes of the roofs and parapets.  Nothing moved.  He was alone among the remnants of compressors and air-conditioners, alone among bones of steel and a dead skin of adobe sloughing away from plast-crete under-walls.  Up here, the noises of the city—voices, the rumbling of ground-cars, the creaking of cartwheels—were softened, muted to a low murmur of life.  On the rooftop, he heard birdcalls and the sighing of the wind.  Knife in hand, he moved forward.
The building he was on had to be well within mobbie territory.  Six stories up, deserted, but with a roof still intact enough to hold his weight as he padded across the cracked tiles toward the outer wall of the structure.  The soft lamnan hide of boots made his footsteps nearly soundless; the cloth-against-cloth scrape of his trousers was lost in the whispering wind.  Jak reached the parapet and looked over.  All seemed clear.  With a quick jump, he dropped over and onto the adjoining roof.  Using the same caution he’d used to hunt moki in the Waste, he scouted the new rooftop.  
It was common knowledge that mobbies operated on the fringes of the adult criminal organizations of Shadriss, but each Alpha jealously guarded the pack’s territory and connections.  What Jak didn’t know was exactly where he could find an Alpha willing to do business.  At least if— no when— he found an Alpha, he sure that information would be unlikely to get back to Bolan.  But he had to speak from a position of strength, or the pack would take him down before the negotiations even began, and Tessa would be doomed.  
This building was larger than most, and the gaping pits of open elevator shafts spread all across it.  Jak skirted heaps of loose rubble and rusting machinery.  Occasionally, more tiles cracked under his weight with a snap that set his heart racing.  He rounded an air-conditioner housing and in the shadows, he saw the first mobbie.  He drew a deep breath.  He’d almost missed it. The mobbie seemed to be alone, and he came nearer. 
Closing the final few steps, he saw that this child would never move.  The small bones were still covered with mummified skin.  The wizened face showed a gape-toothed grin.  This one hadn’t been more than six or seven years old when it died.  The breeze fluttered the rags of clothing in a mockery of life.  This was one mobbie who’d escaped the Regent’s sweep.  He touched the body with the tip of his knife, lifting the ragged tunic away from its chest.  
Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and shuddering.  Jak glanced up as heat lightning flickered across the darkening sky, teasing the city with the promise of rain that wouldn’t come until the wet season, still weeks away.  He looked away from the bright streaks of lightning, down to the small bones.  They spoke to him of an isolation and abandonment that tore at some damaged place inside him.  The mobbie had died alone, probably running for its life.  The pain woke memories, flickering like part of the distant storm, more and more of them until something seemed to give way inside his head.
. . .and no one would listen to me.  I run, desperate to escape.  I didn’t murder our father, but my brother—my lying, cheating, gambler of a half-brother—swore it was so.  I run through the library of our home, past the book disks, past the big mirror on the wall.  I glimpse my face in the mirror, desperate and pale, sweating with effort.  I hear the outcry in the distance.  They’re looking for me.  I run faster.  There’s a ship, a small ship, my father’s own personal craft.  She isn’t meant for long trips; but if I can just get to the spaceport, I’ve got a chance to get away.
Gasping for air as if he had indeed been running, Jak found himself still of the roof of the abandoned building.  He crouched over the pitiful body, shaking.  That face in the mirror, he realized, the face in the mirror had been his own.  
Then pain, pain in his head.  Falling.  Something hard struck him again, and the side of his face scraped against the rough surface of the roof.  Dry bones crunched under him, and old cloth disintegrated into dust.  Groaning, he climbed to his hands and knees, his vision blurred, his ears ringing.  Somewhere, he seemed to hear children laughing.  He’d found the mobbies.  Or, rather, they’d found him.  In the unprotected moment when the memories seized him, they must have crept close enough to use their slingshots.  
Jak struggled back to his feet.  A stone bounded off the wall near him, and he jerked away falling forward.  He crawled for cover behind the rubble.  His left arm shot forward into nothing, and he found himself looking down a pit that dropped into blind darkness.  He heard the clatter of gravel falling to the base of the building.  Dizzy, hurting, he got a grip on the edge of the hole and backed away.  He fell onto his face again, and rolled over onto his back.  He couldn’t tell how many mobbies there were.  His ears were ringing, and a white fog of pain pushed in from the edges of his vision.
This was bad.  He’d meant to meet them from a position of power.  He heard skittering among the stones, then the terrifying sound of children giggling.  Jak knew the mobbies hated adults, and now they’d caught one alone and vulnerable.  He didn’t want to kill them; he wanted to make a deal.  But he was already in a position of weakness, and it was plain that these mobbies were in no mood to trade.  He shook his head to try to clear it, and the pain nearly flattened him.
Something slid among the debris behind him.  He looked up just in time to glimpse a small girl dressed in dun-colored rags before he felt an angry, burning on his chest.  Looking down, he saw that his vest had fallen open, and a small dart protruded from the bare skin just above his breastbone.  The dart was no longer than his little finger, with a needle-like tip stained with some dark fluid.  Even as he looked, he felt the pain change to numbness.  His knife seemed to float away from his fingers, and he heard it clatter on the tiles, far, far out of his reach.  
Through blurred vision, he made out small, bare feet that stopped near his head.  With a last effort of will, he rolled onto his side.  He heard the high-pitched laughter of the mobbies as they surrounded him.  One kicked him.  He knew it because he saw the foot move.  He felt nothing.  He saw another pinch his arm.
"Look," the one who pinched him said, "Nice and fat."
The child who loomed over him was small, thin, and ragged, just as they all were.  He thought this one might be female.  Her dirty hair was scraped back from her face in a ponytail.  She wore a necklace of small, polished bones.  Finger bones, he thought, trying to focus on them, human finger bones.
"Yes, fat," another voice agreed.
"Let’s kill him now, before the others get here."
"We can’t!"
"No, can’t!"
"Alpha won’t like it."
"So?  Who’s going to tell him?"
"We will.  We’ll tell.  You wait, Kishee.  Wait for Alpha."
There were sounds of scuffling, pushing and shoving, the scrape hard bare feet sliding on the surface of the roof.  He heard small grunts, curses in high-pitched voices, and gravel spattered past his face.  The one they called Kishee lost the argument.
"‘Okay.  Okay.  We wait to kill him.  But what do we do with him now?"
"Take him to the box," one suggested.
"Yes, to the box."
Jak listened as the mobbies agreed on how to dispose of him.  Many pairs of small, dirty hands took hold of him.  He couldn’t feel them, but he heard the grunts of effort, they rolled him from his side onto his back.  They managed to raise him just above the level of the rooftop and dragged him forward.  It seemed to Jak that he drifted for a long time, unable to feel, unable to speak.  All he could see was the night sky of Shadriss above him, full of stars, the flicker of lightning, and the Twin moons low on the horizon.  Now and then, a ring of children’s faces looked down at him, and hard fingers poked him now and then to see how fat he was.  He felt like a huge, bumbling fly caught by dozens of tiny spiders.  He had to get away before Tessa came after him.
At last, they seemed to reach a destination of sorts.  He heard a door creak open.  Again, many small hands tugged at him.  He heard his vest rip and the clunk of his heels against stone.  
"Yes.  Put the big one in the box," someone said.  
The voice sounded older than did the others, maybe fourteen or so.  Old for a mobbie.  
Then Jak was rolled forward and just glimpsed the mouth of a trap trapdoor as he fell through it.  He landed on his back in the darkness, and he heard a gasping that he slowly realized was the sound of his own breathing.  The trapdoor clanged shut above him.  He recognized the sound of dura-steel, old Confederacy construction, and too tough for even his freakish strength to break.  For an uncounted time, he floated blind, in blackness without sensation, without anchor.  Alone in the darkness, the memory that had left him open to mobbie attack drifted back. 
The face in the mirror had been his face.  At least, it could have been his face as it might have looked before the scar had turned it into a demon mask.  It wasn’t as if he’d had a chance to preen and stare.  It had only been a quick glance showing red hair shorter than he wore it now, and desperate green eyes.  But after so many strangers, was this finally a memory from his life?  Had the man been a relative?  Was it just a coincidence?  He had no way to know.  But the man in the memory had been on the run from murder and betrayal.
Chapter 14:  Jak
Hours later, Jak woke to bone-aching cold and a head that seemed stuffed with fog.  Strange to feel cold on Shadriss.  Always, the nights were blood warm, and the days blazed with cutting heat.  He opened his eyes to blackness.
Fear.  Fear of the known, this time.  Judging by the darkness and the rancid stink, he was still in the mobbies’ storage box.  Stretching out his hand, his fingers encountered what felt like a pile of bones.  He sat up.  He could move again!  The poison they’d used must have worn off.  Was it supposed to do that?  Was this another trick of his sometimes-unfamiliar body?  Was he supposed to be dead now?  Or paralyzed?  More important, how long had he been here?  He felt the narrow strap of the locator still tied to his wrist.  He had to get out before Tessa came looking for him.
Still, the poison hadn’t been conquered completely, as he found out when he tried to stand and fell on his ass.  He legs felt as if he were moving through thick, icy mud.  He cursed the Lost Gods for laughing at him again.  He’d recovered enough to feel pain, but not enough to fight.  Maybe if he moved around, worked more of the poison out of his system, his strength would return.  He ran his hands over his numb legs, pounding them and trying to massage life back into them.  After a while, it did seem that he had more sensation in his body; but he was still a long way from fit for a fight, even with mobbies.  Especially with mobbies.
He could stand now, if he braced his hands against the wall.  The wall felt metallic, with rough places where bolt heads and metal seams protruded.  The room had probably held machinery when the building had been a living system and not a ruin inhabited by feral children.  Jak found could walk three or four steps before his outstretched hands touched the wall across from him.  He turned around and walked the same three steps back the way he’d come.  It wasn’t much, but he kept trying.  The more he moved, the faster he’d recover.  So, he hoped.
He’d long since lost track of time.  He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, and even awake, there was nothing to divide the minutes from the hours, no way to mark the endless moments of imprisonment.  He worried about Tessa, but the tracking device she’d made him wear was just a simple signal emitter.  There was no way to use it to tell her to stay away. 
Finally, he lay stretched on his back, resting for the moment.  He was thirsty, but there was nothing to drink.  He was hungry, but he didn’t think he’d ever be hungry enough to be tempted to snack on the nameless bones that shared the darkness with him.  And then one darkness shifted imperceptibly into another.
. . . alone in a room full of shadows.  I wait, as all the others like me wait.  No sense of self, no identity beyond the sounds and sensations of the body.  No thoughts.  No I.  Then the other comes.  I feel the probing, the sense of strength and purpose that are new to me.  And finally, a new concept as the other thinks, "This host will do."
The sound of the trap door opening startled him back into the present.  He had no idea where that memory had come from, but there was definitely something wrong about it!  He shook off the alien feeling as a square of stars appeared over his head, and he heard scuffling and fierce whispers above him.  The mobbies couldn’t see him.  Even when the little hunters looked down, he couldn’t be more than a shadow.  He still didn’t know whether they expected him to be mobile or not.  Quickly, he sprawled out on the greasy smelling metal.  Let them think he was still helpless.
Small silhouettes blotted out the stars as two mobbies looked down at him.  He stared back at them with wide, unblinking eyes.  It took all his self-discipline to resist the urge to leap for the opening above.  It was too far away, and he was still weak.  They’d slam the door shut before he could get to his feet. 
"Looks like he’s alive."
"Kishee shot him.  I saw."
"Not all Big Ones die when Kishee darts ‘em, Mice," the first voice explained.  "Give me some rope, then.  If this Big One’s still alive, I’ll talk to him."
"No!"
"Give me some rope!"
"No!  He’ll hurt you."
"He won’t hurt me.  He can’t move, yes?  I’m Alpha, and I say give me some rope."
Despite muttered protests, a black snake of rope dropped from the opening.  Jak’s night sight was conditioned to the total blackness of his prison, so it was now easy for him to see by the starlight.  He watched as a large mobbie climbed down the robe.  Still, he didn’t move.
"Close the door," the boy ordered.  "I’ll call you when I want out."
"He’ll hurt you!"  Mice protested again.
"Then come with me and guard!  Just close the door.  And keep quiet, yes?  The whole pack doesn’t need to know everything I say."
Reluctance obvious in every move, the one called Mice climbed down the rope.  With a grunt of effort, he pulled the trap door shut behind him.  Once the door was shut, the Alpha switched on the small light-globe that he pulled from his pocket.  After the near total darkness, even that dim light was bright enough to make Jak squint, his eyes tearing.  
"He's awake!" came Mice's voice.  "Watch out!"
"Huh.  He can't move.  He can't hurt anybody."
Jak saw the mobbie chief standing over him, looking down in speculation.  The smaller boy stood beside the Alpha, also studying Jak.  From his expression, he hadn't found his leader’s words reassuring.  As Jak watched silently, Mice ran his hands over his long, greasy hair and shifted from one dirty foot to the other.
Mice was about nine or ten, Jak supposed.  The mobbies were always underfed and tended to be small, so it was hard to guess his true age.  The Alpha was much older than Mice, maybe as old as fourteen.  For a mobbie, that was ancient.  The Alpha’s hair was braided into dozens of tiny braids, and bits of trash and colored cloth were plaited into the mess in a mockery of the Shadriss dandy’s beads and ribbons.  His tunic was just as ragged as the one Mice wore, but he had added a shabby leather belt with a familiar looking bone-handled knife tucked into it.  Jak’s knife.  When the Alpha saw Jak watching his knife, he grinned and drew it out.
"Look close, Big One," he said.
He held the tip of the blade near Jak’s eyes.  Jak tried not to let his expression show fear.  The Alpha frowned at the lack of response.  He drew the blade long Jak’s cheek, cutting just enough to break the skin.  Jak felt the trailing pain of the cut and the trickle of blood running down his neck.  He forced himself to keep still.  
"What’s the matter?"  Alpha taunted.  "You don’t feel it?"
Jak didn’t answer.
"Talk to me, you!  If you don’t talk, you’re no good to me.  I’ll kill you right now, yes?  Talk!"
"What do you want?"  His words were mumbled and slurred, but it was the best he could manage.  He had less control over his mouth than over his legs.  Yet, it seemed enough to satisfy the Alpha—for the moment.
"Good.  You can talk.  You’re not too sick to save."  He laughed, as if at some private joke.  "I can make you well, Big One.  That’s good, yes?"
"Good," Jak replied.
"Let’s go now," said Mice, tugging at the Alpha's sleeve.
"Not yet.  Not me.  You go."
"I’m staying with you."
The Alpha reached to the younger boy and tugged his hair.  "Good, Mice."  He turned to Jak.  "This is Mice.  Mice likes mice," he said, laughing at the childish joke.  "Chews ‘em up, yes?"
Mice grinned bashfully.  Jak didn’t doubt that he was used to being the butt of plenty of rough humor.  To Jak, now watching the boys side by side, the resemblance was clear—they were brothers.
"What do you want with me?" Jak asked, his voice stronger now.
"What do I want?  An arm maybe?"  The knife pricked his arm.  "Or maybe a leg."  He made a painful jab at Jak’s leg.
"Very funny."  
Now, he had two more little flames of pain.  How many more would there be before the mobbie chief told him what he wanted?  His sense of his body was much stronger now; he could probably overpower both of the boys before the others could dart him again.  But it sounded to Jak like the mobbie had some kind of bargain in mind, and that was what he’d come here for, to bargain.  Jak decided to pretend to be paralyzed for a little longer while he heard the boy out. 
"Maybe you’ll answer some questions, yes?"
"Ask away."
"This is our territory, Red Bone Pack territory.  No Big One’s come here, but you came.  Why?"
Good question, Jak thought.  The mobbie packs had territories on the outskirts of the city that they considered their personal property, although this was the first time he’d deliberately ventured into such an area.
"I was looking for you," Jak said.
"For me?  Ha!"
"Not for you specifically.  I was looking for the leader of a mobbie pack.  A strong leader, one willing to do serious business."
That tickled the Alpha’s vanity, as Jak had intended.  The mobbie raised his chin and looked down at his prisoner, considering.  
"What kind of business?"
"Credits for transport," Jak replied, feeling his hopes lift.  At least the Alpha hadn’t rejected the idea out of hand.
"Sure.  You think I’m stupid, yes?  You think you can lie to me and live."  But he sounded less certain than he had a moment before.
"We will pay," Jak insisted.
The light-globe was flickering, and it was hard to read the expression on Alpha’s face.  He thought the boy was interested.  Maybe . . . .
"We’re hiding from the Regent and from Bolon, too.  If you help us, it will hurt them.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"
The Alpha just grinned.  "Oh, they’d pay us for you?"
"They’d offer, but I doubt you’d collect," Jak answered honestly.
The Alpha scowled and touched the knifepoint to Jak’s face again, but he didn’t break the skin.  He seemed troubled by something.  Jak wondered what it was and whether he could use to his advantage.
"I’ll pay you six-hundred credits to arrange transport to Tekena for three people."
It was a generous sum, but he knew that Tessa had enough to cover it in her emergency stash.  And she’d be paid back by her share of the Terran’s fee, if she lived to collect it. 
"Everybody’s going to Tekena now," the boy objected.  "There’s no room for more on the riverboats.  No aircars, either."
 "We don’t want anything fancy.  Just space on a cargo barge.  You can find that."
Turning, the Alpha glared at his bother.  Mice’s presence seemed to trouble him.
"Mice, your cover ears," he ordered.
"Don’t want to."
"Do it!"
The knifepoint now threatened Mice.  It didn’t seem to bother the boy, however.  Maybe he was used to his brother’s temper.  Scowling, the Alpha waited.  Finally, Mice gave in and raised his hands to obey, but he kept a steady watch on Jak.  Clearly, he trusted no Big Ones.  When the Alpha was satisfied that Mice wasn’t listening, the mobbie knelt down next to Jak.  He took a small jar out of the pocket of his ragged tunic.  It was full of a murky, brownish fluid.  He swirled the fluid in the jar.  
"This makes you well if I give you some to drink pretty soon.  You want to get well, Big One?"
"Sure."
"Maybe I can find a barge, but I need more than credits."  The boy paused, staring at the small jar as if it contained some important secret.  When he looked at Jak again, his brown eyes were fierce and determined.  "How old do you think I am?  How many years?"
Jak was surprised by the question, but he gave it his best guess.  "Thirteen?  Fourteen?"
"Yes," Alpha agreed.  "Something like that.  Old.  Too old.  You understand?  Some of the pack think I’m a Big One now."
The Alpha paused, as if appalled at what he was becoming.  It was rare for a mobbie to grow up.  Most died in the sweeps, or from hunger, or from a hundred other causes.  Those few who survived kept very quiet about their origins.  This Alpha was a freak among his kind.
"Can’t keep them in line anymore, huh?"
Alpha glanced at Mice, but the boy’s ears were still covered.  
"Most times.  But Kishee pushes.  Kishee wants to be Alpha of the Red Bone pack."
"And she’s younger than you are."
Alpha nodded.  "If I stay here, Kishee will kill me soon, yes?  She tried twice already."
"Why haven't you killed her?"
"You don’t think I could?  You think I'm afraid?"  The knife came to Jak's throat.
"Just curious," he said.
"I thought about it.  But if Kishee's dead, somebody else takes her place, and then I have to kill them, too.  And the one after that."
"What do you want me to do about it?  Kill her for you?"
"No, stupid!  I just said that won’t work."  He took a deep breath.  "You want to go to Tekena, Big One.  So, take me with you.  And pay me the credits."
Jak had never expected anything like this.  "You're joking.  You want to come with us?"
The Alpha struggled to explain.  "Can’t stay in this city.  My pack will hunt me, yes?  River traders take credits from mobbies, but they won’t take us on their boats.  But if I go aboard with Big Ones . . . ."
The kid was right.  He couldn’t stay, not if he wanted to live.  It was true that he might pass if he went aboard with the three of them—if he cleaned up, if he could refrain from sticking his knife into the first person who annoyed him or from stealing anything not nailed down.
"What about your pack?  Won’t they object?"
"They won’t know."
Jak glanced at the other boy, and Mice stared back at him.  Was he really not listening?  It was such a childish way to ensure privacy, and Mice’s hands no longer seemed pressed so tightly over his ears. 
"What about Mice?  Are you taking him with you?"
For a moment, the Alpha seemed torn.  But if he did feel some form of affection for his little brother, it didn’t extend far enough to include Mice in the escape plans. 
"No.  Mice stays."
"All right.  You can come with us.  Now give me the antidote."
"Not so fast, Big One.  You think I'm stupid?  What about the credits?"
"I don't have it with me.  I’ll go get it, and bring you back half.  You'll get the rest when we’re aboard the barge."
"No.  You give me all of it now!"
"Half.  You think I’m stupid?" he asked, echoing the boy’s own words.  "I don’t have it on me.  I have to go get it."
"Get it all!"
"Be smart," Jak argued.  "If you wait until we’re aboard the ship before you get the second half of the payment, you’ll have it all to yourself.  No sharing with the pack.  Those credits will go a long way toward helping you fit in with the Big Ones."
That seemed to seal the deal.  Jak let out a breath of relief.  Holding back half the payment would help ensure that the mobbie chief actually carried out his part of the bargain.
"And make sure you clean up before you join us," Jak added.  "The traders will never let you aboard if you show up looking like you came straight from a pack."
"I can do that.  I know how to look."
As Mice watched, Alpha unstopped the jar he’d been holding and held it to Jak’s lips.  A spoonful of the stuff poured into his mouth, and Jak nearly spat it out again.  If ever he’d imagined the taste of distilled from sewer water, with a good dose of dead rat added for flavor, this was it.  But he forced himself to swallow it.
Within seconds, he was rewarded with a tingling, thrumming sensation that ran along his nerves.  The pain from his cuts became acute as feeling returned.  The bruises from the fall into the box woke as well, along with a throbbing pain in his head.  He raised his hand to his face.  The Alpha backed away, knife held ready, and so did Mice.  Jak realized that both boys were afraid of him.  Mice pulled the Alpha toward the dangling rope.
"Up.  Now," he urged.
"Okay.  We’ll go now.  But the Big One goes, too."
"No!"
"I made a deal, yes?  He brings us food and weapons for everybody.  A knife for you, yes?"
"Kill the Big One."
Mice made stabbing motions with his little hands.  Jak stood up, and Mice stepped bravely in front of his brother.
"I won’t hurt you," said Jak.  "Not if you don’t hurt me."
"He doesn’t believe you," Alpha said, laughing.  "Mice knows all about Big Ones."
The Alpha grabbed his little brother by the back of his tunic and dragged him toward the rope.  Suddenly, the trap door above crashed open.
"What are you doing down there?" a girl’s shrill voice demanded.  Then she gasped.  "Look, the Big One is awake!"
"Get back!  Get back!" the other mobbies warned.
"He won’t hurt you," the Alpha told them.  "He works for me now."
Quickly, the boy told them about the deal to arrange transport upriver, although he put the payment in terms of food and weapons rather than credits.  But Jak noticed that he made no mention of his plan to go on the journey with them, nor the money to be paid once they were aboard the boat.  It looked like the mobbie chief really did intend to leave the pack.
"Are you crazy?  You take a Big One’s word?" the girl said.  The sneer in her voice matched the glare on her dirty face.
"You’re not Alpha, Kishee.  I say, let him go."  
But the Alpha was speaking from a bad position.  It was difficult to dominate the pack from the bottom of the box.  Yet, he almost managed it.  They wouldn’t obey him, but neither would any but Kishee openly defy him.  This mobbie boy was a natural leader, and he understood the nature of his problem all too well.  Grabbing the rope, he scrambled to the top.  Kishee’s hand went to the dart tube dangling from a cord around her skinny neck, but she didn’t quite dare to use it, not with Mice swarming up the rope after his brother. 
 Jak followed them up, fighting through the wave of dizziness the effort cost him.  But he kept moving.  He had no desired to spend any more time locked in the box.  The mobbies backed away as he appeared on the rooftop among them, some stumbling in their haste to get away from him.  
Jak stopped when he saw the limp bundle lying on the roof tiles and realized why Kishee and her friends had come.  The mobbies had another prisoner for the box.  The only illumination came from starlight and the flickering, almost dead light-globe, still below.  But Jak knew at once who lay there.
"Tessa!" 
He dropped to his knees beside her.  He must have been in the damn box for a full day.  This had to be the second night, and she’d come to find him.  
Shouting, mobbies scattered in all directions.  He turned Tessa over and lifted her head.  Her beautiful eyes were dazed, and blood trickled from small scrapes on her face and neck.  The mobbies had dragged her here with ungentle hands.  Her skin felt very cold, but she was still alive—barely.  He put his ear to her chest and heard a slow, weak heartbeat.
"Give her the antidote," he demanded.
"Why?  What’s this Big One to you?"
"She’s my friend.  Help her."  The mobbie just shrugged.  
"She’s one of the three I’m buying passage for.  If you want to get paid, you’ll give her the antidote."
"Kill," Kishee demanded.  "Kill both Big Ones!"
The Alpha didn’t like being told what to do by Jak, but he hated taking orders from Kishee even more.  "I say what we do, Kishee, not you.  I made a deal with this Big One."  He turned to the others.  "We get them to the river traders, and we get lots of food and knives for all!"
"Knives?" the mobbies murmured.  Jak could all but see the idea percolating through their minds, with knives for everybody, they could do anything, even fight Big Ones in the sweeps.
"You’re crazy to trust a Big One," Kishee said. "You let him go, he won’t come back."
"He will."
"You’re stupid," Kishee accused.  Then she added the unthinkable insult.  "You act like a Big One."
The other mobbies murmured in fear.  A battle for power was a heartbeat away.  But that was the last thing Jak wanted, not now.  He needed this boy in charge, and he needed the mobbie worried about Kishee.  He touched Tessa’s face.  Her lips moved as she tried to form words.  The poison must have affected her much more than it had him, he realized.  He had to get her the antidote.  
"You are a Big One now!" Kishee hissed, hurling the insult as if it were one of the tiny, poisoned darts she used so well.  
"Am not!"
"Then kill them now."
"No."
"Then I’ll do it.  I’m not a stupid who makes deals with Big Ones."  Kishee raised the dart tube to her mouth.  
Jak rolled to protect Tessa, but the dart was aimed not at them but at the Alpha.  The boy ducked, and it lodged among the braids and rags in his hair.  He plucked it out with grimy fingers and snapped it in two.  Frantic now, Kishee hurried to reload.  Jak’s roll had carried him near the little rebel.  He grabbed the girl by the leg and stood up.  Snarling, Kishee lost her dart tube and writhed, trying to claw her way loose.  Jak dangled the girl head down over the opening to the box.  The mobbie squealed.  She squirmed, but she couldn’t get loose.
"What do you want done with her?" he asked the Alpha.
There was a murmur from the other mobbies.  Most backed away into the darkness.  A few, more curious or braver than the rest, crowded closer.  However, of one thing, there was no doubt—all were impressed to see a Big One treat their Alpha as leader.
"Make him put me down," Kishee begged.
She was terrified.  All her short life, adults had been Kishee’s enemies.  From them she met with nothing but cruelty and abuse.  Death in the Regent’s sweeps was one of the kinder ways for a mobbie to die.  Now Kishee was helpless in the grip of one of the evil giants.  She twisted up, trying to bite Jak’s hand.  He shook her, and she once more dangled like a rag doll.
"Please, make him let me go!"
Kishee’s sharp snap had changed to a frightened trill.  She sounded so small and helpless that Jak was almost tempted to let her go even without the Alpha’s say so; but not until he had the antidote for Tessa.
"I am Alpha?  I am the leader?" the boy demanded.
"Yes," Kishee squealed.  "Yes, you’re the leader.  You’re our Alpha."
"You’ll never try to be Alpha again?"
"Never.  Never."
The boy hesitated.  Now that he was in control, he seemed determined to play the scene for all it was worth.  Jak looked down at Tessa’s white face.  Her skin had a glistening, waxen look.  There wasn’t much time.
"Put her down," the Alpha ordered.
Jak hesitated.  "And my friend?"
The boy glanced around the assembled mobbies.  His power over them was still tenuous; he couldn’t afford to make many concessions.
"She stays here."
"Then at least give her the antidote."
Still, Alpha hesitated.
"She’ll die if you don’t.  If you want your payment, all of your payment," he added with a growl, "you’ll keep her alive."
"Okay then, I’ll give it."
The Alpha knelt beside Tessa and held the bottle of antidote to her lips.  Jak saw Tessa grimace as the awful tasting stuff entered her mouth.  As she swallowed, he swung Kishee away from the trap door and put her down on the roof.  Spitting with fear and rage, the mobbie backed away from him.  The other mobbies ignored Kishee.  She’d lost a lot of face tonight.  Well, that wasn’t Jak’s problem.  All he cared about was the flush of warmth that had returned to Tessa’s skin and the life that had returned to her eyes.  He knelt beside her.
"Jak . . . ."
"Be quiet.  Just wait.  You’ll feel better soon."
"Tried to find you," she whispered.  "I couldn’t stand to wait any longer.  They caught me . . . before I even got close."
"I was afraid you’d do that."  He smoothed the dark hair away from her face.
"Kamura," Tessa said, her voice growing stronger already.  "She’s still at my place, waiting."
Jak thought of grabbing Tessa and running.  His legs were longer than the mobbies’.  He could out run them, but he needed the Alpha’s help to get them passage to Tekena.  He wouldn’t let himself think beyond that.
"Enough talk," Alpha interrupted.  "Put the Big One in the box."
Watching as Tessa went into the mobbies’ box was the hardest thing he’d ever done.  At least, with him watching, they lowered her gently rather than tossing her in with a bone jarring drop.
"I want her alive and in good health when I come back with goods," Jak warned.  If they hurt Tessa . . . .  He tried not to let himself imagine that.  To do so led to grief and anger like a kind of madness.  "None of your games with the knife, understand?"
"We’ll wait two days," Alpha said, "and we don’t feed her."
That was to be expected.  The mobbies didn’t have enough to feed themselves; they’d never waste food on a prisoner.
"But you’ll give her water?  And leave the light?"
Alpha took a plastic water bottle from one of the mobbies and tossed it into the box.  The dim glow of the light still shined below.  Jak looked down at Tessa’s face, pale and frightened-looking in the guttering light of the almost depleted globe.  It was almost more than he could do to leave her there.  He told himself again that it was in the Alpha’s own interest to keep Tessa alive.  
"I’ll be back," he promised her.  
And he’d come with a blaster.  If Tessa were hurt, he’d start a cleanup that would make the sweeps look like a playful game of tag.  The trap door slammed shut, and Mice slid home the bolt.  It looked as if they were going to let him go.
"Remember," Jak said, touching his bloody cheek, "don’t play any of your little cutting games with the woman."
"No games," the Alpha assured him.
Maybe he’d keep his word.  It wasn’t so easy to torture a Big One who wasn’t paralyzed by the drug.  He saw Kishee lurking in the shadows, her face pinched with fear and hate.  She’d lost her dart tube while she dangled from Jak’s hand.  He looked down and saw it lying at his feet.  Deliberately, he crunched it under his boot heel.  He stepped forward, walking with false confidence through the circle of mobbies.  He turned once to look back at them.  But they had all vanished.  He almost could believe they had gone, that he could just walk back, open the trap door, and free Tessa.  But these were mobbies.  They hadn't gone anywhere.  They had only hidden themselves.  He could still feel their eyes on him.  
He felt them watching him all the way back to Tessa’s building, but he never saw one, not for an instant.  

Chapter 15:  Kamura
"Are you sure you can trust them?" Kamura demanded.  
"No, I’m not sure, but we don’t have a choice.  Now get out of my way," he said as he pushed past her.
Kamura stepped aside.  Everything was slipping away from her control!  She’d woken only to have Tessa tell her that Jak had gone to find the mobbies.  When he didn’t return a day later, Tessa had armed herself with her knife and gone after him.  She’d tried to talk the small, fragile looking woman out of going, but the stubborn Veloran had insisted on looking for the man she called ‘my pilot.’  Kamura had been left alone with instructions to stay put and with nothing to do but wait and worry.  
The waiting had been more difficult than the toughest task Kamura’s instructors had ever set her.  No matter what these two did, she could not fail her grandmother.  Then, a short while ago, Jak had come staggering in out of the early morning darkness, filthy, bleeding, and without the Veloran woman.  
"Aren’t these the same mobbies who stormed into your apartment?"  
She would never forget the way they’d turned on her, just children but so wild, so alien.  Just remembering reawakened all her aches and bruises.
"Probably not the same ones," Jak said, "but they’re the same type."  He went to the small kitchen area and drained one of the bottles of water he found there, then rummaged through the cupboards until he found a loaf of bread.
"Only their leader wants out of the game.  He’s too old to live as a mobbie anymore.  He’ll arrange passage, but he wants to come with us."
"This is turning into a parade of the absurd!"  This had been planned as a simple, covert trip into the heart of the alien technology, but it was becoming more and more complicated.  "First you, then a courtesan, and now a feral child.  Who else will we bring along?"
Jak ignored her, as if she were a petulant child herself.  Thinking back on what she’d said, Kamura’s cheeks burned as she realized that was exactly what she’d sounded like.  The two of them were trying to help her.  If they helped themselves at the same time, she had no cause to object. 
Jak didn’t answer her.  It was as if he had more important things on his mind, and Kamura realized he was thinking only of the Veloran.  After finishing the last bite of bread, Jak stripped off his clothes and began clean off the crusted blood and dirt with a damp cloth.  She started to object to his nudity, and then stopped.  She knew enough about local ways to know that people here regarded clothing as a convenience or an ornament, but never as mandatory.  She was a trained Recorder, she reminded herself.  She’d studied the customs of dozens of different cultures as part of her education, and many were different from those with which she’d grown up.  She had to adapt.
Still, she swallowed and looked away as she caught sight of Jak’s battered, scarred body.  He ought to be ugly, but there was something about the long hard lines of muscle and bone that was oddly beautiful.  She noticed his painful struggle to reach the cuts and scrapes.  Well, at least she could make herself useful.
"Here, let me help you," she said.  
She’d searched through the Veloran woman’s apartment earlier, looking for a weapon or anything that might help her.  All she’d found were beautiful clothes cut to fit a woman half her size, and the usual miscellany of anyone living alone.  But she did remember seeing a small med-kit.  She went into the bathroom and found the kit on the shelf where Tessa kept a surprisingly modest amount of cosmetics.  She brought it out, and Jak held still as she smeared antiseptic across the fresh wounds and covered the shallow cuts on his face with plasti-flesh.  Finally, she jabbed an ampoule of antibiotic into his arm.
"Thanks," he said with a grimace.  
She realized that she’d been none too gentle with the needle.
"You’re welcome.  Now, tell me again why we’re taking this mobbie with us.  And how Tessa is involved."
"We’re taking him because you want to get to Tekena alive," he answered while trying to scrape off the worst of the muck from his vest.  She didn’t know why he bothered.  Never much, it was just a rag now, ripped halfway up one side.  "And that was the best deal going.  The only deal.  You’re paying a premium for secrecy, lady.  And Tessa is with the mobbies, as security."
"Security?"
"We pay the mobbies," he said, his voice grim, "and take the Alpha with us.  Or they’ll kill her.  And eat her." 
Shocked, Kamura was silent as Jak put on his old gray pants, ignoring the new holes that matched his wounds.  The mobbies must have used him like a pincushion.  He pulled the semi-clean vest on, pulled on his boots, and he was dressed.  He looked shabby to her, but truly he was no better and no worse dressed than the many of the poorer citizens of Namdrik.  
"Will Tessa be safe until you get back?"  
She knew more about trading law than men’s hearts, but it was obvious even to her that Jak loved Tessa with a fierce and desperate passion.
"Yes," he growled.  "She’ll be just fine."
Kamura realized that the words were more for himself than for her.  He went to the little statue of Lady Ur that rested in a niche near the couch and flipped the idol over.  With quick fingers, Jak slid aside the base to reveal the small stack of credits hidden there.  
"Tessa’s emergency stash," he explained.  Well, she thought, this certainly qualified as an emergency.  "You can transfer funds through the banks to Tessa just before we leave for the barge, but the mobbies want cash."  
She watched as he counted quickly.  There were ten of the green squares, each about the size of the pilot’s medallion that hung around Jak’s neck.  Green, Kamura remembered, meant they were worth a hundred credits apiece.  
"Will that be enough?" she asked.  
She seldom thought about what things cost.  She’d always had access to as many credits as she needed.  The stack seemed very small.
"Yeah, if I’m careful."  He stuffed the credits into the pockets of his vest.
"Are you going to get your friend now?"  
She felt so much at a loss.  She’d always been at the top of her class, the best, the brightest, the most able; yet, here she was no more than an awkward piece of baggage to be hauled from Namdrik to Tekena.  She didn’t like the feeling.
"No, I’m going to the market.  Tessa isn’t a person to the mobbies—she’s food.  They won’t want to give her up, so I’m going to offer them a new menu."  
"They won’t really eat her, will they?"  
They were playing a game, pretending to be dangerous. 
"Stop kidding yourself, Kamura.  Mobbies aren’t just ragged kids," Jak said as he rummaged through the wardrobe in Tessa’s bedroom until he found a large bag made of black canvas.  He slung the straps of the empty bag over his shoulder.  "They’re dangerous wild animals.  As long as you keep that in mind, you can deal with them.  Forget it, and you’re dead."
She was unconvinced, but he had the credits, and he knew what he had to do next.  Jak threw on the pale gray farmer’s cloak that he’d worn on the way over here, and he was ready to leave.  He slapped the lock plate, and the door slid open.
"Jak, wait!"
He turned with an impatient scowl.
"You will come back, won’t you?"  
She ran her fingers through her long, dark hair.  It was a tangled mess.  She’d taken a good look at herself in the big mirror in Tessa’s bedroom, and she looked nearly as battered and dirty as did Jak.  She felt demoralized, much more so than she ought to over a few bruises and some dirt.  Kamura took a deep breath.
"I know you don’t like me much, and Tessa likes me even less.  But don’t abandon me now, please."
She stopped, surprised at the words coming out of her mouth.  What was happening to her?  She always knew exactly what she was going to say, and said it exactly the way she’d planed it.  But this was as close as she'd ever come to acknowledging that she was anything less than perfect.  Jak smiled at her, and then winced as the movement pulled at the cuts on his face.
"I’ll be back," he told her.  "With Tessa.  In the meantime, you stay put."
Somehow, that wasn’t quite what she’d wanted to hear, but she realized that it was the best she was going to get.  
Chapter 16:  Jak
Jak waited until he heard the lock click before walking down the corridor.  No one was around as he passed through the lobby and paused at the top of the steps leading to the street.  The early morning was full of blue-violet shadows and the sounds of the city coming awake.  He remembered the bones and the darkness of mobbies’ box and shuddered.  He had to get Tessa out of there!
Even at this hour, the dry heat from the morning sun burned his back through his clothes and filled the air with a smell like hot metal and scorched stone.  Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, he ignored the heat, ignored ache in his muscles and the lingering queasiness in his stomach, and hurried toward the covered ways that led to the market.  
Once he entered the shadowy, covered passages near the market, the temperature was more bearable.  Crowds of people pressed body to body, but no one minded the casual contact.  Passing by stalls on either side of him, Jak ignored the cries of the vendors.  He wasn’t interested in jewelry of dubious authenticity, old clothes, pots and pans, or god images guaranteed to cure all ills.  He looked around for a moneylender’s booth.  He found one quickly, but had to settle for eight-hundred credits in smaller units in exchange for Tessa’s thousand.  But it would be too noticeable to spend the high denomination squares in the market.  He still had enough, he told himself, and it was the best deal he could make in the limited time he had.  Slipping the change into a vest pocket different from the one that hid the rest of the credits, he headed straight for the weapons mart.  The Alpha still had his knife.  No way was he going back to face the mobbies unarmed, and he’d better find weapons for the trip and knives to pay the mobbies.
The weapons mart was quieter than the other quarters.  Here, both buyers and vendors took their wares seriously.  No hawkers called.  No one jostled for the best bargain.  Jak passed by the collections of blasters, needlers, and knives spread out on colored cloths.  The blasters and needlers in those piles were likely to be defective and the knives dull.  He needed better and, for once, he could afford better.
The more prosperous merchants had large tents with bright flags flying over their entrances.  Choosing one of those, Jak pushed aside the red and blue striped flap that covered the entryway and stepped into the dim interior.  Inside, he smelled the familiar odors of metal and plastic and the crisp ionized snap of air burned by recent blaster fire.  This merchant, like many, had a small firing range set up at the rear of the tent, just a box with dura-steel walls, ceiling, and floor to keep any stray shots from going through the canvas and crisping any nearby customers.  There, a prospective client could assure himself of the accuracy and quality of the weapon before buying.
There were ten customers in the shady tent.  The merchant glanced up at Jak as he entered, touched his ear, then with an agreeable smile returned his attention to the man beside him, who was examining an expensive and ornate needler.  Two assistants watched everyone to make sure that none of the merchandise wandered out without payment.  Jak, in his ragged, dirty clothes and conspicuously empty bag, knew he had had prompted the merchant’s signal.  Now the chief assistant hurried over, unsure from his expression whether to greet Jak as a potential buyer or throw him out as a potential thief.  Jak preferred to let his money do the talking.  He held up a blue twenty-credit square.  The assistant bowed.
He was a short, thin man wearing plain gray trousers and a simple white tunic.  He saved his vanity for his long, black hair, which was arranged in the ornamented curls favored by the fashionable.  He was no match for the old jeweler that Jak had dealt with earlier, but he still sparkled with every motion of his head.  
"What can I do for you today, Noble Sir?" he inquired as he pocketed the blue square.  
Noble Sir!  But he had the assistant’s cooperation, at least for the moment.  
"I’d like to make a purchase.  In private."
The assistant understood at once.  Customers in the weapons mart often preferred to keep their business to themselves.  
"Come this way, please."
He pushed aside a curtain and led Jak out an opening at the side of the main tent.  They entered a smaller area that was hung with luxurious silks in many shades of blue and carpeted in soft, brightly patterned rugs.  Jak dropped down onto a comfortable pile of cushions, and the chief assistant sat opposite him.  Jak kept his cloak on with the hood up to hide his red hair and shade his ruined face.  It was rude, but he was sure the weapons dealer had seen worse.
"Talik n’Choi, at your service, Noble Sir," the chief assistant said.  He brought his hands together in front of his face in polite greeting.
Jak was sure the man wasn’t n’anything.  If he were, he wouldn’t be working in the weapons mart.  Still, he could flatter the fellow’s vanity at no cost to himself.  
"Huru n’Kay," Jak replied, returning the greeting.  It was the name of the hero of a well-known legend.  The chief assistant smiled to show that he appreciated the irony behind Jak’s choice of name.  
"And how may I help you today, Noble Sir?"
"I need weapons," Jak said, getting to the point.  He wanted to get this over with and free Tessa as soon as possible.  "Two blasters with spare charges.  Maybe a needler.  And knives.  Three top quality knives and a dozen of the cheapest you’ve got."
"Of course."
n’Choi opened a chest near him and pulled out a tray lined in dark blue velvet.  A series of blasters was arranged across it.  All were beautiful, with elegant designs chased into the grips.  Jak picked up one and checked it.  The charge was nearly gone.  The barrel had cracked and been inexpertly mended, and the grip was awkward.  He put it down and picked up another.  It was no better.  
"Very pretty," he said.  He didn’t have time to waste on drawn out haggling.  "But I didn’t come here for toys.  Now, how about showing me some real weapons?"
"Certainly, Noble Sir."  
The pretty but useless blasters were removed without a word of apology.  Now they understood one another, and n’Choi knew Jak wasn’t interested in flashy trash.  The assistant opened another chest.  The blasters he set before Jak this time were plain, efficient, and deadly.  Jak chose two, taking time to make sure the charges were full, the barrels in good shape, and the crystals clear.  Over the course of the next half-hour, he added a needler for Kamura, spare charges for the blasters, three good knives, and a dozen cheaper ones for the mobbies.  He wasn’t sure whether Kamura would be able to use the needler, but even if she couldn’t, it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra weapon.  It took far too many minutes to bargain n’Choi down to a reasonable ninety credits, but at last, it was done, and Jak the tent an armed man.  It felt good.
He tucked one of the good knives into his boot and stowed everything else away in the black bag.  Jak spent another hour buying food for the mobbies, purchasing small quantities here and there so as not to attract attention.  He was sweating with impatience by the time he finished.  The food went into the bag with the weapons.  Mostly, he bought sweets, dried lamnan meat, and some fresh fruit.  
And he bought a large bottle of tranquilizers.  
He was about halfway back to the Tessa’s place when he spotted n’Tau the Gambler across the crowd in one of the covered ways.  If he weren’t so tall, he wouldn’t have seen the Gambler; but neither would n’Tau have seen him.  Without hesitation, the Gambler shoved his way through the crowd toward Jak.  
Jak ducked down the nearest alley, a narrow space that ran between the building that housed the cloth maker’s guild and an abandoned warehouse.  The Gambler would have to cross the busy street to reach the entrance.  Feet thudding, Jak ran flat out, leaping the battered remains of a wheeled cart, tripping once over a crumbling chunk of adobe, but catching his balance and racing on.  He’d been through here before, and he knew the alley made a sharp dogleg to the right about halfway down.  If he could reach the turn before n’Tau caught up to him, he had a chance to make it out the end of the alley and get lost in the crowd before the Gambler could see which direction he’d gone.  
Heart pounding, he ran on.  He couldn’t risk leading n’Tau back to Kamura and giving him a chance to finish the job he’d bungled three days ago.  The Terran had yet to authorize payment of their fee.  If Kamura died, there’d be no credits to get Tessa off Shadriss.  He heard the slap of feet behind him.  The Gambler was quick!  Blood racing, breath rasping, Jak pounded down the alley with n’Tau only steps behind.  Gray fog at the edge of his vision told him that Kishee’s poison had weakened him even more than he’d thought, but Jak kept running.
The dogleg was just ahead.  He slowed to round the corner, took three long strides, and skidded to a halt as the alley abruptly ended in a wall of debris.  His feet slid out from under him, and he landed on his ass in the dirt.  This part of the alley wasn’t much wider than his shoulders, and the entire side of the abandoned warehouse had slumped off its dura-steel framework.  It blocked the way with a pile of debris nearly three times Jak’s height.  Clawing in the bag for the blaster that he’d bought only moments ago, Jak staggered up and whirled to face n’Tau, but the Gambler was ahead of him.  Knife already out, he came in fast, slicing low.  The blade cut across the back of Jak’s right hand and knocked the blaster away before he could get a good grip on it.  The weapon went spinning into the rubble, and Jak leaped back from another slash that would have spilled his guts in the dirt.  
First blaster gone, there wasn’t a chance to reach for another weapon in the bag.  Leaning away, Jak reached for the knife in his boot.  He had no time for this, not with Tessa in mobbie hands.  n’Tau tossed his own knife from hand to hand, making it hard for Jak to guess the direction of his next attack.  Coughing, choking, on the cloud of dust his fall had stirred up, Jak peered through watering eyes.  
The Gambler paused to brush a bit of dirt of the gray silk sleeve of his tunic.  It was an act of contempt, showing that he had no fear of Jak.  In truth, n’Tau looked pleased.  He was savoring the moment. 
"You shouldn’t have crossed Bolon.  You pissed off the boss, man with no clan."
Man with no clan, it was the worst insult on Shadriss.  Jak shifted, trying for more stable footing.  The narrow space was lumpy with crumbled adobe bricks and rotten mud mortar. 
"Yeah?  Well, I’m about to piss him off more by killing his favorite errand boy."  
n’Tau laughed, a short, hard bark devoid of humor.  He tossed back his dandy’s braids and curls.  
"How are you planning to kill me?  Drown me in your own blood?"  ’Tau lunged, and Jak barely managed to parry.  "He’s put out a reward for you, one big enough to cover every gambling debt I’ve got."  
He slashed again.  
Jak tried a lunge of his own and wound up with a shallow slice that ran from elbow to wrist.  
"I thought he wanted me to kill that woman for him."
n’Tau flashed white teeth in a parody of a smile.  
"The boss was just rattling your chain, outlander.  He should’ve finished you then, but he’s got such a hard on for you that he can’t think straight.  He only went after the woman to get to you."
To get to him?  Bolon went after Tessa to hurt him?  Jak felt a roll of nausea.
"Right," he said.  "Like a Hired Companion thinks I’m anything more than the guy who takes out the trash."
"Hey, nobody cares what a whore thinks, not even one as expensive as her.  But Bolon knows what you think.  Hell, it’s all over your face every time you look at her.  That’s what counts with the boss."
Jak scowled.  So much for his ability to hide what he felt.  He’d worry about that later.  Right now, he had to finish this fight and finish it fast.
The Gambler struck again, and now blood ran down Jak’s right leg.  He stumbled against the wall and more rubble showered down on him.  Jak spat out mud and steadied himself.  n’Tau was playing with him, just having a good time. 
"You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that.  No brains, but plenty of nerve."  
n’Tau’s knife flicked in and out.  Another sting of pain, another warm trickle of blood.  He was worse than that mobbie Alpha.  
"When I get done with you, scar face, I’ll go pay your little whore a visit."
"No."
"I’ll make sure the boss knows that I told you about it before I finished you.  Might get me a bonus."
He couldn’t let n’Tau find Kamura at Tessa’s place.  He couldn’t leave Tessa for the mobbies.  He had to win this fight.  Jak was sure they were about equal in speed, but n’Tau’s skill with the knife far outstripped his own.  There wasn’t much room to maneuver.  They were face to face, no room even to circle for advantage.  All Jak had on his side was his freakish strength and utter desperation.
n’Tau feinted with a low slash to Jak’s right thigh.  Jak jumped back, and n’Tau followed him.  His blade snaked upward, going for Jak’s throat.  Jak parried and made a sharp jab to n’Tau’s lean belly.  n’Tau twisted away, leaping back with Jak’s fingers barely brushing the silk of his tunic.
n’Tau darted forward again, and Jak felt a sharp sting as the knife nicked his forehead.  Blood ran into Jak’s eyes.  Cursing, he raised a hand to wipe it away and saw the blur of n’Tau coming at him again.  This time, Jak felt a delicate slash on his chest, just below his heart, and he felt the warm trickle of blood running down his bare skin.  
n’Tau laughed.  
Jak was fast, but n’Tau was faster.  Somehow, he had to bring the fight to a point where speed and skill didn’t count.  He had to make it a matter of strength and endurance, and soon, or n’Tau would kill him one delicate cut at a time.  And both women would die.
Jak thrust at n’Tau and, by luck, nicked the gambler’s arm.  n’Tau’s heel came down on a brick as he jumped away, and he staggered, almost falling; but he was up again before Jak could take advantage of the slip.  n’Tau grinned and lunged again.  Jak barely escaped him.  Jak’s knife handle was slippery with his own blood, but n’Tau appeared to be having no trouble.  
In desperation, Jak slammed his shoulder into the crumbling wall of the warehouse.  He threw his left arm over his head as adobe bricks fell in chunks around them.  Dust filled the air in a choking, blinding cloud.  The dust clung to the blood on his face, making a thick mud that he wiped at desperately.  Coughing, he looked for the Gambler.  Debris now filled the alley almost hip-deep.  n’Tau’s speed wouldn’t count for much under these conditions, and the Gambler knew it.  He snarled and lunged; but he, too, was breathing dust and nearly blinded.  Jak jumped to one side, coughing, pushing his way through the mess.  It was tough for him to move, even with his unnatural strength; it would be much more difficult for the Gambler.  Still, n’Tau floundered after him.  
Jak slipped and fell to his knees, dust filling his throat.  A fresh fall of rubble left him half buried.  More of the wall fell until he had only one arm free.  But it was his knife arm.  His left side was buried up to his neck in dirt and rubble.  Blood and dust blinded him.
He heard n’Tau stagger toward him; heard the Gambler slipping and sliding through the dirt, heard him cough, heard his wheezing breath.  Jak gave a great heave and pulled himself free just as n’Tau reached him.  n’Tau’s knife burned past his ribs.  Jak’s blade went home in the Gambler’s heart, and n’Tau fell against him.  The other man dropped his knife.  The blade fell, cool and useless now, down Jak’s leg.  His arms went around Jak’s waist, and his face slid down over Jak’s bloody chest.  Jak caught him as he fell, and n’Tau glared up at him.
"Boss should have finished . . . ." he whispered.  
Like a shadow, a bewildered expression passed across his face and then the shadow was gone, taking n’Tau with it.  
His wounds burning as the adrenaline wore off, Jak lowered the Gambler’s body to the earth.  He pulled his knife out of n’Tau’s chest and wiped it on the man’s fine silk shirt.  Jak sheathed the blade in his boot agan.  He bent over the bloody body in the alley and closed its staring eyes.  As he did so, memories crashed over him.  He knelt shaking, alone and defenseless as the past cascaded down upon him.  
I sit alone at a battered table in a nameless bar, a man on the run with nowhere left to go.  I drink too much ale as I wait for my client to come back with the money.  I don’t know whether he’ll pay me or kill me.  At this point, I hardly care.  I’m not guilty.  That’s the only thought in my head.  But my brother—my lying, cheating, gambler of a brother—has convinced everyone of my guilt.  
Disgusted, I look around the bar, searching for any distraction from my own thoughts.  And here is my client with his oddly silent partner.  I look up at the two men, one medium height with smooth regular features and cunning eyes.  The partner is the taller of the two, is taller than I am, and twice as wide.  He has a blank face that says nothing much happened behind his eyes.  He wears a neat beard below a shaved head.
"Time to go," the client says, and there is something in his expression that makes me uneasy.  But what choice do I have?  My pockets are empty.  I haven’t been paid yet, and this man offers hard credits.  I can’t use an electronic transfer.  I need those little plastic squares.  And for what?  So I can continue running?  Running from nowhere to nowhere, that’s all that’s left for me.  I rise to my feet, stumbling a little as the ale hits me.  I’m not used to drinking, and I’ve guzzled more than my share tonight.
We go out into the hot darkness.  It’s night, and neither of the moons is up.  Yet, even this late, the air is hot and humid.  I hate this stinking world.
"The ground-car is over here," the client says.  Taking my arm, he steers me around the side of the building.  It’s dark in the side street, alley really.  Some small voice in the back of my mind is telling me that this is a strange place to park a ground-car.  Why doesn’t he have his partner bring it around to the front entrance?
But by the time the rest of my brain catches up, it’s too late to do me any good.  The partner shoves me against the nearby wall and pins me there.  I try to throw the big man off, but my feet slip on the sandy surface.  He’s strong, stronger I am, stronger than any man ought to be.  Then the client is on me, too.  It looks like the cheap bastard is aiming to get out of paying me.  But worse happens.  The client shoves his face into mine.  His hand under my chin forces fingers into my jaw, forces my mouth open.  Abruptly, the client’s face is on mine; the client’s tongue is in my mouth.  Oh, crap!  I have nothing against sex between consenting adults, but I definitely do not consent to this!
Gagging, I struggle, but the two men hold me easily.  I can hold my own in a fight.  I’d had plenty of training in hand-to-hand combat, but these two are incredibly strong.  Quickly, the client’s face moves away from mine.  It’s hard to tell by the dim light in the alley, but the man seems to be looking at me expectantly.  What the hell does he . . . ?
And then it begins; a creeping sense of otherness at first.  A sense of something moving, tasting, inside my head.  This isn’t a rape, I realize, at least not in the usual way.  I feel the alien something growing within me.  I thought they were human, both of them.  I thought wrong.
I feel it when it reaches my brain.  Like a visitor to an unfamiliar house, it begins flipping switches and opening doors at random.  My breathing stops.  My skin is on fire and then drips sweat at the same time.  I start breathing again, but now I’m blind.  My muscles are suddenly like jelly, and only the two men holding me keep me upright.  Then I can see again, and I can stand, although I feel weak as a newborn.  But the worst is when it starts sorting through my memories.  The client leans over me, nose to nose, staring into my eyes as if he can see what was going on inside my head.  Hell, I can see what was going on in the client’s head.  I see it through the thing that has invaded me, through this alien connection.  
Reality returned like waking from a dream, a deep dream that had almost drowned him.  Jak shuddered.  This time, he was sure that the memories had been his own.  Something alien had invaded his body.  The bigger man’s face had seemed almost familiar, but the memory was lost in a wave of nausea as he gagged, retching into the dirt, rejecting the alienness that had been thrust into him.  Panting, he leaned against the wall until the dizziness and sickness passed.  He shuddered again and again, as sweat dripped down his face and neck.  
At last, he wiped a shaking hand across his mouth and straightened.  This was no time for memories or weakness.  He had to reach Tessa.  He’d think about what this meant later.  Most of the dust had cleared, and he found the black bag nearby.  He scooped up the bag and checked the contents.  For once, he was in luck; everything was still inside.  He found the blaster he’d pulled on n’Tau half buried in the rubble and stuffed it into the back waistband of his pants.  Better late than never; he wouldn’t be caught with it out of reach again.  He shook the dirt off his cape and pulled up the hood.  Staggering a little, he walked back the way he’d come.  The alley seemed much longer now without n’Tau on his heels.  
So, n’Tau was dead, no more watching for the Gambler at his back.  He should have felt relief, maybe even satisfaction at defeating his enemy, but all he felt was a desperate desire to have this over with.  Cautiously, Jak emerged in the market where he’d left it.  No one noticed the muddy blood on his face and clothes.  Nobody cared.  He pressed through the crowds, heading for Tessa’s apartment, weaving as he walked.  The fight, the lost blood and lack of sleep, the mobbie poison, the days of fear and anger had drained even his strength.  But worst of all was the memory that had come welling up from his past.  Despite the heat, the cold sweat of shock still dripped down his face and back.  
The lobby was empty.  Jak climbed the stairs with one hand against the wall to brace himself.  When he reached the top, the hall seemed to blur and twist.  Bent over like an old man, he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.  When he opened them, the walls had steadied.  The floor lay flat before him.  He shook himself and straightened, heading for Tessa’s apartment.  The blood on his hand smeared the card key so that he had to try twice.  At last, the door slid open, and Jak staggered inside.  Kamura sat up on the sofa where she’d been resting.  
"Jak!  You did come back.  I’d almost given up—"
She broke off and stared.  He dropped the pack on the floor and managed to get the door shut before his knees buckled.  Kamura ran across the room to catch him, but he was too heavy for her.  All she could do was help ease him to the floor.
"What happened?"
"n’Tau saw me."
The room spun around him, and the light faded.  Kamura’s voice was coming from very far away.
"What about n’Tau?  What happened?"
"Dead.  Killed him."
He felt her peel off his cloak, felt her open his ruined vest, her cool fingers on the burning wound on his chest.  Soft fingers pulled the blaster away from his back.  He heard her drop to the floor next to him.  Her knees brushed against the wound on his ribs and winced.  
"Don’t try to move," she commanded.  "I’ll get the med-kit."
Jak didn’t have the strength to disobey.  He felt completely used up, still ill from the mobbie poison, wounded in a dozen places, exhausted from three days almost no sleep, he could deal with all that.  No, it was memory of the assault on his mind that was the most painful.  He closed his eyes.  Something had tried to eat him!  And it had almost succeeded.  His memory was gone, his mind left with a disorder of stranger’s lives.  What had done this?  The client and his partner had looked human, but something else had moved their bodies.
Jak opened his eyes as Kamura bent over him, cleaning the slashes on his chest and the fresh gash on his forehead.  She was getting better at it, he noted, as his thoughts began to drift.  Tessa, he remembered, had to get to Tessa.
"Stim," Jak mumbled.
His lips felt numb.  He had trouble controlling his tongue.
"Stim.  Med-kit."
"You don’t need a stimulant.  You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you should rest."
"Stim.  Now."
He didn’t know if he said the words or only thought them.  Did Kamura understand?  Just how much of this could his body take?
"Tessa.  Have to get Tessa back.  No time."
He drifted on a gray cloud in a dark room.  When he focused again, Kamura’s frightened face floated above him.  He heard a clatter as she dumped the contents of the med-kit on the floor beside him.  He knew she was searching through the clutter, but it didn’t seem to matter any longer.  He closed his eyes.
Chapter 17:  Jak
He woke to darkness, breathing hard, heart racing.  For one bleak moment, Jak imagined he was back in the mobbies’ box, but as he blinked his eyes, he realized he was seeing the normal dark of Shadriss at night.  He heard soft breathing beside him, the sound of someone sleeping.  He sat up and found Kamura stretched out on the sofa.  He’d been sleeping on the floor by the door.  His cloak was folded under his head as a pillow.  How much time had passed?  Jak stood up, or tried to; but his spinning head and aching joints forced him to stop on hands and knees, panting, fighting back nausea.  
His stomach rumbled.  He had no idea how long it had been since he’d eaten.  He looked for the canvas bag and found it where he’d dropped it.  Pulling open the top, he hauled out some of the rations he’d brought for the mobbies.  He found a package of soft candy and ate it, then added a helping of spiced meat.  The combination didn’t sit well on his uneasy stomach, but it took the edge off his hunger.  Yet even as he wolfed the food, he couldn’t help but be aware of what Tessa must be feeling now.  All she had to sustain her was a small container of water and the hope that he would come back in time to save her.  
The thought of water made him stumble to Tessa’s cupboard.  Only four bottles left, and the next delivery day for fresh drinking water wouldn’t be for a week.  Still, one way or another, they weren’t likely to be here that long.  With care, it should be enough to last.  The water went down sweetly, and Jak had to fight the temptation to gulp the whole bottle.
Kamura woke as he drank.  She sat up, startled, looking confused, and then relaxed when she realized Jak was awake.  She thumbed on a small, lamp.  The sudden light stabbed his eyes, and he blinked at the pain.  She clutched his hand, her anxious fingers like claws against his skin.  
"Jak, are you all right?" she stammered.  "I thought you were dying."
"Not yet."  
The words came out in a grunt.  His throat felt raw.  He gulped one last swig of water and took a closer look at her.  By the dim light of the single lamp, her face looked thin and strained.  
"How long have I been out?" he asked.
"Almost a full day."
"No!  That can’t be true!"
"You came back from the market this morning a bloody mess and passed out.  I tried to get you to tell me what had happened, but you just mumbled something about n’Tau," she answered in a rush of words that told him just how frightened she’d been.  "And those look like knife wounds on your chest and arms.  I dressed them as best I could.  And you kept asking for stim, so I gave you some.  I didn’t know what else to do."
"Yeah.  You did right," he said, ignoring the weakness that still gripped him.  
He had to hurry.  The Alpha had promised to keep Tessa for two days before killing her.  He could still get to her in time.  But had the mobbie leader kept his promise?  Could he hold his rebellious pack in check that long?  Jak ignored his shaky muscles as he rummaged in the bag and found the tranquilizers.  With fumbling fingers, he opened the first few capsules and began sprinkling the food with a light coating of the white powder inside.  He wanted the mobbies to fall asleep, but not so quickly that the slower eaters got suspicious as their fellows dropped all around them. 
"What’s that?  Is that poison?"  She sounded ready to stop him.
"Just tranquilizers," he answered.  "I just want to put the mobbies to sleep."   
"Okay then, let me do that," Kamura said, taking the capsules from him.  Her steady fingers soon had the rest of the tranquilizers spread evenly on the food, all except for a portion that Jak kept clean for Tessa.  He shoved the food back in the bag, along with one of the bottles of drinking water.  The blaster Kamura had taken off him was on a shelf by the door.  Jak stuffed it into the back of his waistband.  Not that a blaster had done him much good so far.  He tied the bag shut and staggered toward the door.
Kamura scrambled up and ran after him.  "Wait!  Where are you going?"  
"To get Tessa.  I just hope I’m not too late."
"But you can’t go yet.  You’re still too ill."
"Got to get Tessa," he insisted.  
"Then I’m going with you," Kamura said.
"Forget it," he told her.  "You don’t know how to deal with mobbies.  That’s why you hired me, remember?  You stay here, or you’ll get us all killed."
She opened her mouth to protest, but something in the grim set of his face stopped her.  She seemed very frightened and alone, but for once, she didn’t argue.  His knife was still his boot.  He put a spare knife and blaster in the bag for Tessa, separate from the cheap weapons he’d bought for the mobbies.  He hoped she’d be in good-enough shape to use them when he reached her.  
"Stay here, and don’t open the door to anybody but me or Tessa," he instructed.  "And whatever you do, don’t open the door to any pathetic little mobbies.  Got that?"
 She nodded.  "What should I do if you don’t come back?"
"Go home."
She started to protest.
"Go home.  Got that?  Go.  Home."
Kamura gave him a long look.  "Yes."
He slung the black bag over his shoulder and tried not to show the sudden wave of weakness that washed over him.  There was no point in frightening Kamura even more.  Maybe he’d feel better once he was out in the night air and moving around.  He couldn’t feel much worse.  
Climbing the stairs to the roof was like climbing a mountain.  Jak just kept putting one foot in front of the other.  None of the thoughts that came to him were pleasant, so he tried not to think at all.  There was a sour taste in his mouth, like fear and anger mixed.  He moved silently through the blood-warm night, dropping from roof to roof as he retraced the way he’d come the night before.
Chapter 18:  Jak
Jak heard the mobbies before he saw them.  They were quarreling again.  It sounded like Kishee hadn’t remained subdued for long, and now she was up to her old tricks.  Jak ducked behind the rubble and slipped from shadow to shadow, keeping low, staying out of sight.  Once, his foot caught on a bit of loose tile, and he froze as it clattered over the roof, but no one seemed to notice the noise.  As Jak approached the voices, he saw about a dozen mobbies gathered around a flickering fire near the trapdoor that led to box.  He spotted two sentries posted on the roof above, but both children were watching the action around the fire rather than looking for approaching enemies.  
Jak looked back to the fire.  It was difficult to make out faces in the uncertain light, but the camp appeared to be evenly divided on both sides of an argument.  Directly across from him, the Alpha and his followers sat on one side of the fire, and Kishee and the other rebels sat on the opposite side with their backs to Jak.  Little Mice, his eyes glittering, crouched next to his big brother.  
"Time is up," Kishee insisted.
"I said two days," the Alpha snapped.
"No," cried other voices.  "Eat!"
The Alpha’s control over the pack was slipping fast.  They were hungry, and Kishee could take over at any time.  But not tonight.  Moving quickly, Jak stepped into the circle of mobbies.
"Big One!  Run!"
About half the pack fled shrieking into the darkness.  That suited Jak just fine.  The fewer mobbies around, the better.  But Kishee stood her ground.
"I told you I’d come back," he said to the Alpha.
He ignored Kishee, or at least pretended to do so.  He stood feet apart, hands on his hips, trying to look as imposing as he could.  Since he was twice the height and four times the weight of the average mobbie, that wasn’t difficult.
"Did you bring the goods?"  Alpha asked, eyeing the canvas bag that Jak carried slung over his shoulder.
"What about passage up river?"
"All set.  Now pay."
Jak scowled.  He’d have to take the boy’s word for it.  The kind of accommodations they were asking for didn’t issue tickets.
"My friend first."
"No," Kishee said, "food first."
Jak turned toward her.  He couldn’t let the little female get the upper hand.  
"Who’s Alpha here?  You or him?"
"Me," the boy said.  "Kishee shut up."
"I want Tessa."  
Jak let the bag thump to the ground, and they all heard the crackle of food wrappings inside.  He suspected that most of the mobbies could smell the food, too.
"Give that to me," the Alpha ordered.
"When I get Tessa."
The Alpha took a step toward him.  Jak reached behind his back and brought out the blaster.  There was a gasp from the remaining mobbies.  They knew what blasters could do.  The Regent’s men used them during the sweeps.  Jak saw Kishee smile.  Little Mice stepped in front of his brother, trying to cover the bigger boy’s body with his own.  If Mice weren’t a mobbie, Jak thought he could have been fond of the kid.  The Alpha stared at the blaster.  Then the boy shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
"Open the door," he ordered.
One of the mobbies on his side of the fire obeyed him.  
Jak was sweating again, and his heart raced.  
"The rope," he said.
Mice dropped the rope into the box.  
"Tessa, can you hear me?"
"I hear you, Jak."  
Tessa’s elegant drawl was reduced to a hoarse croak, but Jak had never been so glad to hear her voice.  
"Can you climb the rope?"
"If it will get me out of this hole, I can climb."
"Hurry then."
He heard Tessa gasping as she strained to climb out of the box.  Dared he try to help?  He saw Kishee’s hand reaching for her dart tube.  It hadn’t taken her long to replace the one he’d smashed. 
"Leave that alone!" he snapped.
Kishee glared at him, but her hand dropped away from the tube.  Meanwhile, Mice eyed Jak.  He seemed calmer now that the blaster wasn’t pointing at his brother, but Jak wasn’t sure what went on in his twisted brain.  Mice was feral and quick, like a fierce young animal.  Jak doubted that the boy remembered any life before the pack.
Tessa’s head appeared at the opening of the trap door.  Jak couldn’t see her very well in the flickering light, but she seemed unhurt, as he judged by the curses accompanying her climb.  She rolled over onto the rooftop, exhausted.  Her dark curls hung in limp strands, and her face was dirty and covered with a fine sheen of sweat.  Now was the time for a distraction.
"Here," Jak said.  He handed a tranquilizer-free package of food to the Alpha, and kept a second for Tessa.  The boy took it, but he was clearly aware that something was up.  "Special for you," Jak told him.  Then he spilled the rest of the food out on the rooftop and called out, "Help yourselves." 
Mobbies scrambled for the food packets.  Even those who’d run away earlier came hurrying back.  Thinking such abundance was worth the risk of death, small, ragged bodies scampered into the circle of firelight.  The mobbies snarled and fought among themselves for the food, and Jak saw two of them fall into the box.  Others grabbed what they could and vanished into the darkness.  He didn’t think they’d notice the taste of the tranquilizers.  While the mobbies were busy with the food, Jak went to Tessa.  He was just in time to knock a food packet out of her hand.
"Not that stuff," he said.  "I brought this for you."  
He reached into the bottom of the bag and then handed her the other clean packet and the bottle of water that he’d brought for her.  She looked at him but said nothing as he crouched beside her.  Tessa leaned against his shoulder, eating and drinking greedily.  Jak felt a relief so great it made him dizzy.  He wanted to hold her, to touch her, to make sure that she was unhurt.  But he didn’t dare take his eyes off the mobbies.  He waited until she’d emptied the packet and drunk her fill.  Then asked, "Can you walk?"
"Try me."
The mobbies didn’t notice as Jak and Tessa started edging into the sheltering darkness.  Several were yawning already.  They weren’t used to full stomachs, and the food alone would have been enough to make them groggy; the tranquilizers would knock them out.  
Jak kept his arm around Tessa to steady her, although she was recovering rapidly.  She had far more strength in her lean, cat-like body than appeared on the surface.  Stepping away from him, she stood by herself to show him that she was all right.  Jak looked around for the Alpha and found him yawning, almost asleep.  The boy had gobbled down the clean packet that Jak had handed him and was now wolfing down a packet of drugged sweets.  He shook the boy’s arm.
"What ship and when?"
"Pay first.  You owe more than this food."
Even drugged, the Alpha still had his priorities straight.  Jak handed him ten twenty credit pieces and the dozen cheap knives.  It wasn’t as if the mobbies were going to be able to use them anytime soon.
"Remember, you get the rest when we’re on the ship."
Carefully, the boy counted the money.  Jak was surprised.  A mobbie who could count?  Where had he learned that?  He must have joined the pack very late in his young life.
"What ship?" Jak demanded.  
Like the others, the boy was slipping fast into sleep.  Next to him, fierce little Mice already had his head pillowed on his brother’s leg.
"Serena," the mobbie chief mumbled.  "Barge at the compost dock, yes?  Tonight.  Password is . . . ."  
His voice trailed off into a snore.  His head dropped forward.  The bits of rag and trash that decorated his hair made it look like a wild animal’s nest.  
Jak shook him again.  "What's the password?"
Alpha raised his head and smiled at him drowsily.
"Revenge," he said.
Chapter 19:  Kamura
Kamura sat on the balcony of Tessa’s apartment, using the comb Jak had bought her to tease the tangles out of her long hair.  She felt guilty, which was ridiculous, but Jak had looked so shocked to learn that she’d used two jars of water for her bath.  And that, she thought, had been nowhere near enough.  
"So, order more," she told him.  "It’s nothing to make a fuss about."
"We can’t order more, not clean drinking water.  I’ll have to risk buying water in the market because you just wasted most of Tessa’s weekly ration on your damn bath.  You should have used the water in the bathing jar."
He turned and went into the bathroom.  Kamura stared after him.  How was she supposed to know something like that?  At home, water came from a tap.  She’d never heard that drinking water was rationed on Shadriss.  That certainly hadn’t been the case in the hotel where she’d stayed.  She tugged at a tangle, whishing she was already in Tekena, wishing this miserable trip were over.  She heard Tessa in the bedroom, rummaging through her closet.  Packing, Kamura supposed.  Although the Veloran didn’t have nearly as many clothes as Kamura would have expected.  Weren’t Hired Companions supposed to have dozens of exquisite outfits so they could be perfectly dressed for any client?  Maybe that was only true on Terra, not that she’d ever personally known a Hired Companion before, let alone peered into one’s closet.  Or just maybe it meant that she had no idea of what Tessa’s life was really like.
Sighing, she looked though the open doorway to where she could see Jak as he stood naked in the square of sunlight shining through the skylight in Tessa’s bathroom.  He was washing with a damp cloth and water from the big brown jug by the door.  He was beautiful in his way, she thought as she watched the play of muscles over his long, lean body.  He peeled away patches of plasta-skin from his face and leg, revealing new, pink scars beneath.  He scrubbed away the remaining flakes, and then washed the accumulated grease and grime out of his red hair.
Now, that was odd, she thought.  Those had been fresh red wounds just yesterday.  
"Is there any water left for me?"  Tessa called from the bedroom.  
Kamura saw Jak grin, clearly happy just to hear the sound of her voice.  Tessa had slept late, but now that she was awake, she seemed little affected by her ordeal.  Reluctantly, Kamura was coming to realize that there were training schools much tougher than the one Grandmother Mobutu ran on Terra.
Tessa came out of the bedroom, barely glancing toward Kamura.  All her attention was for Jak.  
"Are you hurt?" she demanded.  "Let me see."
"I’m fine.  Just some scrapes," he assured her.
Kamura knew that she had patched up much worse than a few scrapes on Jak, but this morning it was true.  Nearly every wound had healed or was well on the way to doing so.  How could that be?  Her eyes narrowed as she watched the two of them.  Tessa had been dirty and bruised but not much injured.  Not so Jak.  At the very least, she should be able to see some of the knife slashes from yesterday.  He’d healed amazingly quickly.  And that was one of the characteristics of an omniphage host.  
Jak looked at Tessa as she stood in the doorway and shook the water jar.  
"I saved you half," he said, smiling.
After turning the remaining water over to Tessa, Jak wrapped a towel around his waist and gathered up his trousers and vest.  He’d rinsed them in the used bathwater, and now he took them to spread on Tessa’s balcony to dry.  As he passed Tessa, she ran her soft hand along his arm, and Jak grinned down at her.
Apparently, the new scars itched because he scratched them absently.  Yes, Kamura could see that the knife wounds he’d received from n’Tau yesterday were just pink lines.  Even the scar on his face seemed smaller today.  
He caught her staring at him and raised one eyebrow in inquiry.  Quickly, she looked away and pretended to be absorbed in combing her hair.  
"Did you leave anything to eat?" he asked her.
"There’s some cheese on the counter."
Although she was hungry, Kamura had just nibbled a bit of it.  After the incident with the water jars, it would be too annoying to have Jak to tell her that she’d eaten more than her share.  She wasn’t used to poverty.  She didn’t want to become used to poverty.  
As she braided her hair, she thought furiously.  If Jak was part of an omniphage cluster, she had to find the other hosts.  And she had to kill them—all of them.  How she would locate them, she didn’t know.  But once she did, she’d do as Grandmother Mobutu had instructed and then get out of the area.
Kamura was almost certain that Tessa wasn’t part of a cluster.  She displayed none of the signs that her Family had learned of at such cost.  She healed normally, and she didn’t seem faster or stronger than normal.  Nor was she a drooling catatonic with no sense of self.  Of course, variations in such things as strength and ability to heal had developed across the span of human settlements.  And those variations had grown greater during the millennium of isolation that had followed the fall of the old Confederacy.  Could that be why Jak healed so quickly?  Maybe he wasn’t part of a cluster after all.  
She was surprised by how much relief that thought brought her.
Chapter 20:  Kamura
In the hour before dusk, Jak left to risk one last trip to the market to buy food and water for the journey.  The barge would leave that night so it could arrive at the first farms at dawn.  While he was gone, Kamura joined Tessa in her bedroom as the little Veloran went through her wardrobe searching for clothes for the two of them to wear.  Kamura sighed.  Tessa might not own as many clothes as she’d expected, but all her things were beautiful.  Unfortunately, most were much too short for the tall Terran.  
Handing Kamura a pair of soft, knit pants and a pair of leather boots, Tessa said, "Here, these trousers should do if you tuck them into the boots."  
The boots were knee-high, made of some sort of supple reptilian hide, and looked similar to the ones that Jak wore.   
"The boots are lamnan hide," Tessa said as Kamura stripped out of her shift.  
She felt awkward being naked in front of a woman of rank different from her own but judged it unwise to make her feelings known, so she just donned the clothes Tessa handed her as quickly as she could.  
"A lot of people wear work boots like these.  I bought these and another pair similar to them to wear when one of my clients thought we should go camping on his estate."
Kamura tugged at the boots and found that they were cut loosely so that a pull on the ties could adjust them.  She was glad she had small feet.  They were the only thing about her that was close to Tessa’s dainty size.  The boots were crude, and the fit was far from perfect, but they would serve her better than her ruined evening sandals.  Tessa caught her frowning at them.
"Never mind how they look," the Veloran instructed.  "The important thing is that they’ll help with your disguise.  Yes, disguise," she said firmly when Kamura glanced up at her in surprise.  "They’ll be looking for a tall, well dressed, young woman.  We’ll show them a not-so-tall, scruffy, young man."
Kamura supposed it made sense, so she didn’t protest when Tessa took the white shift that Jak had bought for her and cropped it to mid-thigh, turning it into a sleeveless tunic with a ragged hem.  The fabric she’d cut off went to form a band that Tessa helped her wrap around her chest to hide her breasts.  Kamura pulled the tunic over her head as Tessa examined her with a frown on her beautiful face.  
It wasn’t fair, Kamura thought; even while frowning, the woman looked more beautiful than Kamura had on the best day of her life.  And she was far, far from that day now.  She’d looked in the mirror in the bathroom and seen a battered stranger staring back at her.  A med center could repair the damage—she hoped.  She glanced down at herself.  She supposed she could pass as a boy, she thought; she certainly didn’t look much like a member of Kamura, Recorder and Daughter of the Family Mobutu.
"Close enough," Tessa conceded.  "We leave at dusk, so if we braid your hair and tie it back, you’ll pass as a boy in the dim light, at least until the barge gets underway.  Sit over here while I do your hair," she ordered as she dragged one of the carved wooden chairs out onto the small, shady balcony.
"I want to thank you for talking Jak into taking me to Tekena," Kamura said as she followed her out.  The balcony was covered, and no one could see them out here.
"Is that what you think?"  Tessa looked at her, and Kamura had the impression that the delicate woman was weighing what she had to say.  "I didn’t tell Jak to take you to Tekena.  I told him to kill you."
Kamura realized her mouth was hanging open, and she closed it abruptly.  
"To kill me?"  
She searched Tessa’s beautiful face and found it hard; not angry, not hateful, but still just as hard and cold as stone.
"There’s no way the two of you could have survived the trip to Tekena, and I was trying to salvage what I could.  He’s my pilot.  Mine.  And I’m not giving him up so some spoiled girl can enrich her already wealthy Family."
"Then why—"
"Why would he agree to go when he knew he’d die?  For the credits.  Not for himself, but for me.  He was willing to die so that I could leave Shadriss."  Tessa drew in a deep breath, as if to keep from saying too much.  "But then I found out that the two of us are caught up in one of Bolon’s games, and the only way for either of us to survive is to make this trip together."
Bolon, that was the name of the local crime lord, she remembered.  She shook her head; it didn’t matter.  What mattered was that this woman, this woman who’d been helping her dress, who wanted to braid her hair, this woman had advised Jak to kill her.  The information was like a pail of ice water thrown in her face.
"You told him to kill me!"
"And dump your body in the Ur to feed the banderri," Tessa added.  
Kamura shivered.  A school of the carnivorous water beetles would have left nothing, not even bones.  
Tessa sighed.  "Of course, being Jak, he was as impractical as always, so I had to think of a better idea.  And I did.  If that mobbie chief has kept his word, all three of us may live to leave the dust of Shadriss behind."  She patted the back of the chair.  "Now, sit girl, and let me fix your hair."
Somewhat to her own surprise, Kamura obeyed.  She was quiet as Tessa’s nimble fingers began braiding her hair into the multiple braids favored by most of the men of Shadriss.  The small, beautiful woman whom she’d dismissed as a mere courtesan had been ready to kill her.  She had never so misjudged another person.  
Belatedly, Kamura realized that Tessa probably understood a lot more than she’d supposed on first meeting her.  In many ways, the Hired Companion reminded her of Grandmother Mobutu.  Both were intelligent, practical, and ruled by a ruthless core of determination that let nothing stand in her way.  Not even murder.  Still, Tessa’s hands were gentle as she gathered Kamura’s many braids into a tail at the back of her head and tied it with a piece of soft leather.
"There," she said, "You make a pretty boy.  But don’t speak once we’re outside, or your voice will give you away."
"I understand."
She was sure that Tessa didn’t know about the omniphage and the threat it represented to everyone on the planet—possibly to all of humanity.  Which meant that she didn’t know that Jak might be part of an omniphage cluster.  And after what she’d learned today, Kamura realized that she could never tell her.  
If Jak was a host, could the omniphage spread from Jak to Tessa?  That was something they hadn’t learned, despite so many of the explorers of Family Mobutu giving their lives to find out all they could about the sentient bacteria.  
But she kept her worries to herself as they finished packing the clothes and other items that Tessa judged suitable to take with them.  The beautiful silks with their elaborate embroidery weren’t making the trip, she noted.  The clothes Tessa had selected were the plainest and most practical she had.  When the Veloran began stripping the jeweled bracelets from her left arm, it suddenly came home to Kamura that Tessa, like Jak, was leaving her old life behind her.  She watched as Tessa divided the bracelets into two piles.
"What will you do with the ship when you have it?" Kamura asked as Tessa begin stitching the bracelets onto two long strips of soft black cloth.  "Where will you go after Tekena?"
Kamura saw a new expression on Tessa’s face as she answered.  The little courtesan had a dreamy look, softer than any she’d displayed so far.  
"We’ll go anywhere and everywhere," she said.  "No boundaries, no limits.  We’ll be free traders . . . out on the fringe.  There’ll be plenty of work for a small, fast ship out on the border."
"Plenty of danger, too," Kamura observed.  "I’d think that’s something you’d want to avoid."
Tessa shrugged, her fingers busy.  "Risk is part of life.  Jak and I are good at dealing with risk."
"And you think he’ll stay with you once the two of you are off Shadriss?"
Tessa looked up from her work with narrowed eyes.  
"I’m sure of it." 
Chapter 21:  Jak
At dusk, Jak and the women headed for the docks.  They walked single file, staying to the less used ways, not speaking, just three shadows passing through the dying light.  Jak was in the lead with Kamura between him and Tessa.  Tessa had done a good job of disguising the Terran, and he was sure that, at a distance, she’d pass for a boy.  She certainly looked nothing like the elegant aristocrat she’d been the first time he’d seen her.  
But she really did have the power to make decisions for Family Mobutu, just as she’d said.  Moments before they left, she’d used Tessa’s com to transfer the remainder of the credits and ownership of the Morgan-Haruka to an off world holding account.  All they had to do was to survive long enough for one of them to go in person to a secure bank and provide the password, and the ship and the credits were theirs.
Easy enough to say, Jak thought as they crossed the edge of the market.  Much harder to do.  A few late vendors were closing their stalls, some packing their goods in small carts, others pulling down heavy shutters.  Wary of being noticed, Jak skirted the more successful merchants who left their goods in place with armed guards to watch over them until morning.  
They each carried a small bag of clothing and provisions, and Jak also carried the heavy water bottles dangling down his back, six of them strung together with rope around the necks.  He had a belt of soft cloth wrapped around his middle, under his vest, and it was stiff with Tessa’s bracelets, half her hard-earned treasure.  He’d tucked one of the blasters into the belt at his back, hidden under his open vest, and wore a more visible knife tucked into the front.  Tessa wore a matching belt tied around the waist of her shift, with the rest of her jewels sewn inside it.  The simple white shift was slit knee-high on the sides, revealing the soft boots she wore under it.  Covered with a short, lightweight blue cloak, she might pass for a farm wife.  They’d given Kamura a knife, too, although it was mostly to help with her disguise.  
The Terran, Jak noted with mild surprise, hadn’t protested carrying her share.  He thought that she and Tessa must have had some kind of meeting of minds while he was gone, but he’d sooner wade into a school of banderri than ask them about it.  
He paused and held up a hand to halt the others as something moved in the shadows ahead.  Jak relaxed as the mobbie Alpha stepped out from an alley into the dim light of the waning moon Liss.  The boy had found a new tunic and a pair of knee-length pants to wear.  He’d also cleared the trash out of his nest of unkempt hair, combed it, braided it, and tied it back.  Jak could see that the boy had been hiding regular features and intelligent eyes under his bird’s nest of hair.  He was still barefoot and dirty, but Jak thought he might actually pass as one of their party.  Tessa’s servant boy, maybe, if he’d play along with the role while they were in view of the crew.
"So, you made it," Jak said.  He hadn’t been sure that the Alpha would be able to evade his pack.
"Made it," the boy agreed.  "Now Mice and Kishee can decide who leads."
"Who is this?" Kamura asked.
"This is . . . this is . . . ."  Jak realized that he couldn’t continue to call the boy Alpha.  He needed a name.  "This is Toko," he said.  It was a common name, short, and easy to remember.  "He’s going to be Tessa’s helper."  He looked at the former mobbie to see if he approved.
"Yes, Toko.  I help the lady."  He smiled a wicked and feral grin.  Jak resolved not to leave the newly christened Toko alone with either of the women.
"Oh," Kamura said, understanding at last.  "This must be—"
"Toko!" both Jak and Toko said in unison.  "And that’s all that anybody needs to know," Jak added.  If she started talking about mobbies to the crew, they were going to have trouble.
"Very well," she snapped.  "Can we get moving now?  Or do you plan to add still more people to this ridiculous entourage?"
Behind her, Jak saw Tessa roll her eyes.  Jak made Toko take the bundle that Tessa had been carrying.  If he was going to pose as her servant, he could start now.  They continued toward the barge.  He saw Kamura’s straight nose wrinkle in distaste as they reached the dock reserved for compost barges where the stink of rotting vegetation mingled with even less pleasant smells.
There were three barges tied up at the dock, big, square flat-bottomed vessels, more like rafts than ships.  Jak shook his head as memories of other craft, ships built for water, not space threatened to drown him.  Now was not the time, he thought as he gritted his teeth against the other lives that nearly overwhelmed him.  Sweat ran down his back as he forced the memories away, forced himself to remain in the present.  But when he looked at the barge, he knew it was built of reinforced cement.  He knew the technique.  He knew the style.  Hell, he could have drawn up plans if he’d had a writing board.    
The barges reinforced cement hulls were chipped and scratched, but their decks were tidy.  Only one was loaded and ready to leave.  About thirty meters long by twelve meters wide, the deck was stacked three rows high with square baskets of compost, waste from the Great Market mostly, each basket two meters on a side.  The baskets were set like bricks, in a running bond pattern, with half a meter between each to allow air to circulate between the hot, still-decomposing compost.  Jak looked up at baskets towering almost three times his height.  This was going to be one hot, stinking, trip.
There was no name painted on the side of the loaded barge, just a faded design of stylized waves, but Jak was sure it was the Serena.  The barge would haul the load to villages upriver where the crew would trade the compost to the small farmers along the way for fresh fruits and vegetables to sell in Tekena.  Then, they’d do the same on their return trip to Namdrik.  At least, their journey would smell better as they neared their destination.
"You expect me to travel on that?"  Kamura demanded, gagging.  
"Yes, and you’re damn lucky to get passage," Jak growled.  
Yes, it was dirty and it stank, and it was no fit place for Tessa.  Yet, it was one step closer to getting her safely off Shadriss.
They’d arrived as men worked to harness the lamnan that would haul the barge away from the dock and along the river.  Four of the huge, gray lizards hissed and uttered deep, rumbling groans of displeasure.  But the handlers knew their business, and the sturdy neck and body harnesses were fastened around each of the three pair of legs and buckled into place.  Jak set foot on the gangplank, and a sailor moved to stop him.
"Hey!  You can’t come here!"
The protester was a young man, thin but with the wiry muscle of someone who worked hard for a living.  He was dressed in nothing but a pair of faded blue pants that ended at mid calf. 
"We were promised passage," Jak told him.
"This is a cargo barge.  We don’t take passengers," the bargeman argued.  "It’s against the Regent’s law."
Jak drew a deep breath.  Graff n’Chall might not be named Overlord, but he did his best to control every aspect of life on Shadriss.  Passengers who bought passage on the official transports were required to show identification and were listed in the databases.  
"We paid passage, and we’ve come for revenge," he said, using the password the Alpha had given him.
The man’s attitude changed.  His scowl was far from welcoming, but he knew them now.  He pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his sweating face and neck as he looked around to see if anyone was watching them. 
"All right, then.  My father told me about you.  Come aboard quickly and get in the cabin."
They hurried to obey.
"Down here."
They were hustled along the side of the deckhouse and to a small cabin toward the aft end of the barge.  The reeds that made the walls were spaced far enough apart to allow light and air into the cabin.  That the light was dim, and the air was far from sweet smelling, were small concerns.
"In here," their guide said.  "Don’t come out until we’re well downriver.  And don’t come out at all if one of the Regent’s cutters is near."
A cutter, Jak thought, half-repressed memories of ships and shipbuilding still with him.  One mast, a couple of sails, and a dozen armed men on permanent duty.  Not something they wanted to take on.
Glancing around the room, he saw a simple cabin with bare wooden benches on three walls, each just long enough to lie down on.  A couple of bone hooks by the door gave Jak a place to hang the water jars.  He dropped his bag of provisions on the nearest bench.  Kamura’s face was blank, as if she were trying to take in more than she could handle.  
"Where are my credits?" Toko demanded as he dumped Tessa’s bag next to Jak’s.  He held out one lean, brown hand.  "You owe me three hundred." 
Jak was sure the boy would cut their throats in their sleep if he didn’t pay him.  He just might do so in any case.  Sighing, Jak fished in his vest pocket and brought out a small leather bag that held three of the green squares.  He held it out to the boy and rattled it gently.
"Here, but don’t get greedy.  That’s all there is."
Toko laughed.  "This is plenty, yes?"
At least the Red Bone pack had gotten a good meal out of the deal.  Toko probably had the other two hundred on him.  Jak wondered where the rest of the pack was and whether they knew yet about their leader’s defection.  The sooner they were under way, and far beyond Red Bone territory, the safer he’d feel.  Toko tucked his credits into a pants pocket and perched on the bench to the left of the door of the cramped little cabin.  Kamura took the bench opposite the door.  Jak wasn’t sure he liked having her so close to the former mobbie, but it wasn’t as if there was a lot of room to maneuver.  
"So, what do you plan to do with all that money?"  Tessa asked Toko as she and Jak sat together on the remaining bench.      
It was a small fortune by mobbie standards.  Hell, it was a nice chunk of change for anybody—except Kamura.  It also represented a significant part of Tessa’s savings.  All she really had left were the bracelets her customers had given her.  Still, the ship and the credits Kamura was paying would more than replace them.  Toko just smiled.  For someone so young, he had a very evil smile.  
"You’ll see," was all he’d say.  His dark eyes gleamed in his dirty face as if he were savoring a private joke.  
Jak felt a shiver run up his spine.  The damn kid was spooky.  
"Where’s Mice?" he asked.
Toko shrugged in reply but looked uneasy at the mention of his little brother’s name.
"You could have brought him along."  
Mice was his brother, his family.  Jak might be a clanless, nameless stranger, but he knew how important family and clan were on Shadriss.
The boy shook his head.  "Can’t bring Mice.  Mice is all mobbie.  He’ll never leave the pack."
"How do you know?  You didn’t give him a chance."
"You’re a Big One; so you think you know everything," the boy said with scorn.  He wriggled around until he was sitting cross-legged on the bench.  "Mice was a baby when we joined the pack.  He doesn’t know how to live with Big Ones."
"And you do?"
"Sure, yes.  I remember how Big One’s live."  He smiled that evil smile again.  "And I’m going home now, to my uncle."
Kamura said, "I’m sure he’ll be happy to find you again."
Toko laughed.  "Happy?"  He shook his head.  "He said to kill us, me and Mice.  ‘Kill the boys,’ he said."
"What?" Kamura exclaimed.
Jak ran his hands over his face.  It was going to be a long trip.  Tessa leaned toward him and gave his arm a comforting squeeze.  He pulled her close, something he normally wouldn’t do.  But it had occurred to him that without the bracelets that she’d always worn almost as armor, she was no longer a Hired Companion.  She was just a woman, and he was just a man, a man who loved her more than his own life.  And she needed him.  She needed his protection now.  If they survived this journey, she needed him to pilot her ship.
"Oh, we were orphans, me and Mice," Toko told Kamura.  He’d slid down to the end of his bench that was closest to the Terran girl.  "But our Uncle wanted our credits.  Inheritance, yes?  He told our nurse to kill us.  Only Trish loved Mice."  He smiled that sharp edged smile again.  "Not me, only Mice.  Uncle said to leave us in the desert, but Trish wanted to take us to Namdrik instead.  But the aircar crashed in the Waste.  Mice and me were only hurt a little, but Trish was hurt bad."  His eyes grew dark with remembering.  "We were close to Namdrik.  Almost safe.  Then bam!  Trish died.  But first, she told me to take care of Mice.  So, I did, yes?"
"But you’ve abandoned him now," Jak pointed out.  
But he didn’t much care about the mobbie, but he wasn’t comfortable with Toko being so close to Kamura.  Still, Tessa had leaned into the curve of his arm, her soft hair brushing his chin.  Unless Toko physically attacked the girl, Jak wasn’t going to do anything that might make Tessa move away from him.
Toko shrugged, and his eyes brightened as he put away old and ugly memories.  
"Can’t look after him forever.  Mice can take care of himself now."
"If Kishee doesn’t kill him," Jak said.
Toko laughed.  "If Mice doesn’t kill Kishee.  Mice doesn’t talk much, but he thinks a lot.  Kishee’d better be careful."
He actually seemed pleased at the prospect of his little brother and Kishee fighting for control of the Red Bone pack.  But Jak would bet that not even Toko himself knew which of the two mobbies he wanted to win the battle.  
He felt the barge lurch as they cast off, and the lamnan on the towpath leaned into their harnesses.  They were underway at last.  He listened, but it was hard to make out what was happening outside.  He heard the creak of ropes, the wash of water, the high cries of night birds, and the deep rumbling of the lamnan as they pulled the barge.  But mostly, he was conscious of Tessa, of the warmth of her slender body next to his. 
Chapter 22:  The Selok 
The Bolon body sent quivers of excitement through the web that linked the selves.  Annoyed, the Selok sent thoughts of calm, of quiet, to the far off host.  But the Bolon body had been damaged during the nearly disastrous attempt to add an adult human to its meld.  It should have listened to the tales of the elders.  Infants were fine, embryos were prefect; but by adulthood, all potential host bodies merged with a species consciousness, one most weren’t even aware of possessing.  
That consciousness had almost destroyed it.  But it had been desperate for another host.  It had taken so much time to establish itself among the rulers of Shadriss, to become close to the enhancer that the locals called the God Core.  By then, it had possessed a mere three bodies, and one of those was less than halfway grown.  Adding another adult, especially an adult with the skills of a pilot, had been too much temptation to resist.
Now, the damaged Bolon body had developed a personality of its own, a stunted, child-like personality that insisted on indulging all its emotions to the full.  Today, it bathed in a mixture of hatred and sadistic satisfaction that interfered with the concentration the Selok needed at this crucial time.  Irritated, it withdrew a portion of its attention from guiding the Prime body through the preliminary ceremony and looked out through the Bolon body’s eyes.
It was looking at a human child.  A small, dirty, child dressed in rags, and speaking with a stammering haste that made it difficult to pick any meaning from the flow of words.  When it was in control, these creatures would no longer need such clumsy means of communication.  But whatever the boy was saying, it set flames of want and rage through the Bolon body’s mind.
". . . on a barge," the boy said.  "Ugly Jak, the pretty woman, and the Terran with our Alpha."
"Not my Alpha," a second child said.  This one might be female.  "Big One now."
"He is not!"
It failed to see why the Bolon body should find this information so exciting.  Unless . . . .  The adult human that it had tried to assimilate called himself Jak now.  Which meant the ‘pretty woman’ was the Hired Companion.  But the Terran?  The Selok knew of only one Terran who’d come to Shadriss in recent memory, and she was dead.  Or so n’Tau had told the Bolon body.  Had the Gambler lied?  If so, this was indeed a situation worthy of its full attention, although not for the emotional reasons that ruled the blossoming personality in the Bolon body.  Family Mobutu had been tracking its kind for generations, since the first of their trading ships had landed on one of the home worlds.  It would be wise to do something with this information before the Terran became a problem.

Chapter 23:  Jak
The days on the river passed slowly, with an easy similarity that numbed them to their danger.  Gliding by the man-high reeds that lined the riverbank, Jak found it hard to believe in the bloated egos and intricate manipulation that made up the power struggles of the royal house of Shadriss.  The Regent Graff n’Chall and the Prime Luan n’Chall might be important to Family Mobutu, but they were less real than figures in a legend to Jak.  The reality of the river was sunrises and sunsets, and water gliding by the small farming villages along the banks.  The reality was Tessa standing by his side.  By his side—he hoped—forever.
They were three days out of Namdrik, only started on their twelve-day journey.  From here, the river took a deep loop to the south before the meander returned north, almost closing the loop as it reached Tekena.  
The four of them had come out on deck for air and sunlight.  The reek of the compost was still with them, but a fresh breeze blew along the water, and the sun, while bright, was not yet scorching hot.  The barge stopped at a new village each morning, and the crew traded compost for crops.  They’d arranged the produce the barge had taken on into a kind of arbor at the stern.  It provided a shady retreat, and it hid them from the view of the many passing ships.  At this point of the journey, the arbor was made mostly bags of tiff and some baskets of hard, green berries.  The berries were lamnan food.  They tasted awful—Toko had sampled some—but they smelled better than the compost.  
Kamura reclined on the deck, using a bag of tiff as a backrest.  She seemed as comfortable as if it were a well-padded lounge on a luxury liner.  Her long, black hair fanned out around her as she combed it.  Jak was surprised that she’d adapted so well to the simple life on the barge.  She’d even stopped complaining about the stinking cargo.  
Toko sat cross-legged next to her.  He’d been spending much of his time talking with Kamura, trying, he told Jak, to improve his speech.  Yeah, speech.  From the way he watched Kamura, Jak wondered if that was all he was trying to do.  Despite the enormous difference in their backgrounds, there was only a couple years difference in their ages, chronologically at least.  Kamura was maybe two years the elder, but Toko already had a lifetime of fighting and winning battles behind him.  In some ways, he was much older than the tall Terran girl.
Jak shifted the empty bag on his shoulder.  The food he’d brought aboard was almost gone, but he meant to buy supplies at the village they’d landed at this morning.
"I’m coming with you," Tessa said.
It was clear that she was in no mood for argument, and he couldn’t blame her.  They’d both had their fill of the Serena and their cramped cabin.  She’d tucked her long curls into a simple leather band.  Dressed in the plain shift and boots of a farmer’s wife, she still looked beautiful, maybe even more so than usual.  
"Come at your own risk, then," Jak told her.  "It’s not likely to be much fun."  
But at least she would be with him, where he could keep her safe.  And, admit it, he longed for some time alone with her.
"It can’t be any less fun than sitting on this barge." 
"You two had better stay here," he told Kamura and Toko.  "You’ll attract too much attention on shore."  Jak expected some argument, but Kamura surprised him.
"There’s nothing I want to see in these villages," she said.  "Anyway, it’s cooler here on the water."
She looked over at Toko as she spoke.  It seemed the boy wasn’t the only one who found the language lessons interesting.  Jak gave Toko a scowl to remind him to behave, but Toko just grinned back with his wicked, mobbie grin.  Jak sighed.  He couldn’t protect them both, and Tessa was the one who mattered.  Besides, although hidden from river traffic, the two were in full view of the crew.  Maybe that would keep the boy in line.  
Jak shrugged.  "Fine."
At least he wouldn’t have to keep track of Kamura and Toko while they haggled with the villagers.  Kamura was learning, but she still tended to make unpredictable—and potentially disastrous—mistakes.  And Toko?  The boy was as wild as a moki and just as dangerous. 
Together, Jak and Tessa walked down the gangplank and passed the morning’s unloaded cargo of compost baskets.  The passenger boat that had stopped near them earlier had left an hour ago.  All was quiet as they skirted the lamnan feeding in the clearing at the edge of the water.  The lamnan were the real reason the barge had stayed put long enough for the shopping trip.  The big lizards had to feed at least every two or three days, or they’d refuse to work.  They were smarter than some people Jak knew.  The animals looked up as the two humans passed, and Jak gave them a wide berth.  
"What’s the matter?"  Tessa asked.
"Nothing.  I just can’t get comfortable with a lizard that’s ten times my size."
"They’re harmless."
A big bull-lizard coughed just then, and Tessa and Jak both jumped.  "Okay, maybe they’re not harmless.  That one sounds grouchy.  Sort of like you first thing in the morning."
From the days he’d lived in the room across from her, Jak remembered her pretty face scowling at him over morning tea.
"I’m Mr.  Sweetness-and light first thing in the morning.  It’s you . . . ." 
"I prefer to have my tea before I deal with the serious business of the day."
"Like I said, grumpy."
Jak slid a glance at her and saw that she was laughing at him.  He grinned himself.  It was good to see Tessa laugh again.  There hadn’t been much cause for laughter lately.  When she reached over and took his hand in hers, it was even better.
"So, what will we do with the ship?" he asked.  
Just for a while, he wanted to pretend that they would survive this trip, that they’d claim Kamura’s payment; that they’d have a life, a life together.  Just for today, just for now, he’d pretend that it was so.
"We’ll be traders," Tessa replied, her blue eyes serious.  "I can read people, and you can pilot a ship.  We’ll make a good team."
As they stepped onto the path through the tall reeds that led up to the village, Jak realized that he was wearing a big, foolish grin, but he didn’t care.  She wasn’t serious about becoming a trader, but he didn’t care about that either.  They were alone in a hiding place of living green, out of sight of the barge, not yet in sight of the village.  The reeds rustled in the wind like encouraging whispers.  
Stopping on the path, Jak pulled Tessa to him.  When she didn’t protest, he bent to kiss her.  Her lips were soft under his, and her mouth opened as he tasted her with his tongue on hers.  She was silk and honey, warmth, everything he wanted.  His arms closed around her slender body, and he pulled her closer to him as the kiss deepened.  At last, trembling, he forced himself to step back.  It was that or take her then and there among the reeds.  He kissed her once more, just a light brush of lips this time, then stepped away and smiled down at her.
"I’ve wanted to do that for a long, long time," he said.
She looked down and then glanced up into his eyes.  He felt himself drowning in blue sapphires.  
"Next time, don’t wait so long before you act."
From behind them, the bellow of a bull lamnan brought them back to the here and now.
"I think we’re trespassing on his territory," Tessa said.  "We should move on."
Glancing over the tops of the reeds, Jak saw the big lizard huffing out his sides, his jaws opening wide to reveal huge yellow teeth, and then snapping closed.  Yes, it was time to continue their search for food in the village.
Soon, they found themselves tramping between small, wattle-and-daub huts that straggled out on either side of them.  He knew places like these, and he was happy that, for once, the memories were entirely his own.  During his stint as a guide, he and the young nobles he’d led had often stopped at such riverside villages on their way into the Waste.  They were humble settlements where a few tight-knit families formed clans that supported themselves by fishing and farming.  Like the others, this village was nothing much to look at, but Tessa was still holding his hand, and that improved the scenery no end.
"This is it?" Tessa asked.
"Hey, this is Main Street," Jak answered, realizing that Tessa’s trips into the country had usually ended at some High Lord’s estate.  "Go past those fields over there, and there’s nothing but sand, sand, and more sand."  
"And moki with teeth the length of my arm."
"Yeah.  Those too."  
With luck, they wouldn’t come anywhere near one of the desert hunters.  Moki were distantly related to lamnan—very distantly.  About a quarter the size of the big hauling lizards, moki were lean and quick predators.  The first pair of their three pair of legs was tipped with claws as long as Jak’s hand.  He’d learned to respect them for those sharp claws and their poisonous bite.  But moki were smart enough to avoid the villages, even a village as small as this one.  
This village could have been any of the many that Jak had visited.  He saw reed-thatched roofs and more reeds woven to form mats over the doorways.  The meetinghouse sported a solar array, probably the only building with power in the whole village.  It looked a fragile, impermanent place.  Yet it and others like it had stood on this same spot since shortly after first human settlement of Shadriss, nearly two thousand years ago.  This village had been so long that it now stood on a low mound built up from the refuse of previous generations.
They strolled up the shallow hill toward the small, central plaza.  A few shy children watched them from doorways and around corners, but no one was rash enough to come near the strangers.  Some of the children were painted with the green and white wave designs of the river goddess.  Others wore the yellow circle of the sun or even the red slashes of Nish.
"Look at the kids," Tessa whispered.  "No mobbies here."
"You only get mobbies in the cities," said Jak, who’d spent more time in and near the Waste than he liked to remember.  "The farmers need their kids to help them work the land.  These guys can’t afford high-tech farm machinery."  
But they wouldn’t take the city children into their villages, no matter how much they needed help.  The clans were closed to outsiders.  So, the villages survived in good times and struggled during bad.  Farming on Shadriss was simple and harsh.  The big lizard-like lamnan pulled plows through the silt that was left each year after the spring floods, and the farmers sowed corn, barley, and tiff.  Many of the huts also had vegetable gardens behind them, gardens tended by those too old or too weak to work in the fields.  
Spying one of those gardens, Jak asked, "How about over there?" 
With his chin pointed to a hut more rundown than its neighbors.  The door sagged off one leather hinge, and the thatched roof needed repair.  Jak would have thought the place abandoned if it weren’t for the carefully tended plot in back and the pregnant lamnan cow tethered just out of reach of the crops.  
"That looks like a possibility," Tessa said. 
As they approached, an old, bent figure came to the doorway.  Male, Jak supposed, from the flatness of the scrawny bare chest and the thin wisp of beard on the chin; but he could have been wrong.  The old man was dressed in rags, but they were clean rags, and his sparse white hair hung in neatly combed strands around his wrinkled face.  Leaning on his cane, he looked up at them out of bright brown eyes.
"What do you want?" he asked in a voice that rustled like the dry sands of the Waste.
"To trade," Tessa replied.  She pulled out one of the many bracelets she’d earned as a Hired Companion.  It was one of her plainest, but still the sunlight danced across its surface.  "This bracelet for food?"
"Jewelry?" the old man laughed.  "What would I do with that?"
Jak didn’t know what to answer.  On his previous trips into the Waste, the hunting parties had taken everything they needed with them.  But the old man was right.  What could he do with a pretty jewel?  He looked to Tessa.
She winked at him and tucked the bracelet back under her cloak.  In doing so, she carelessly revealed the knife at her belt.  She’d known, he realized; she’d known the old farmer wouldn’t want the bracelet, at least not badly enough to trade good food for it.  It was just a teaser, something to get his attention.  But the old man spotted the knife at once.
"Well, if we can’t trade, we’d better get back to the barge," she said to Jak.  
"Wait!  Just wait.  You say you want to trade, you better not waste my time."  The old man pulled at her sleeve.
"But you don’t want the bracelet," Jak said, doing his part by trying to look puzzled and not too bright.  It wasn’t difficult.
"You’ve got other stuff."
Tessa raised one eyebrow in mock puzzlement.  "What other stuff?"
"That knife, for one thing."
"This?"  
She put her hand to the knife.  Yes, it would be worth a lot to the villager.  Sharp and well made, it was better than any other the old man was likely to come by this far from the city.
"You can’t trade your knife, woman!" Jak objected, right on cue.  He tugged Tessa’s hand.  "Come on, let’s go."
Tessa frowned and hung back.  "But I’m hungry for some fresh food." 
"I’ve got lots," the old man chimed in.  "Fresh from the garden.  None of that wilted market stuff.  Good.  Come, look."
They followed him as he hobbled around to the side of the hut.  Jak avoided going too near the pregnant lamnan.  The cow raised her head and looked at them out of yellow eyes as they passed.  The beast, like the children, was painted with symbols of good fortune on her gray, scaled hide.
The old villager’s crop did look better than most, but Jak was suffering unexpected pangs of guilt as he thought of taking any of it.  The knife was valuable, but would trading for it leave the old man with enough to eat?  What would his family say when they returned and found out what he’d done?  Tessa, however, had no such qualms.
"Hmmm."  She hefted a plump pink rillfruit and scowled at the chutter berries.  
"It’s good.  Best in the village."  The old man fluttered around her, growing more anxious as Tessa seemed more critical.
The dickering took a while.  Jak played the part of devil’s advocate with increasing reluctance.  Yet Tessa seemed ever more determined to get the best bargain possible.  She had the instincts of a natural-born trader coupled with charm of a courtesan.  She was impossible to resist; and when they left, Jak was carrying a full bag, and the old man was admiring his fine new knife.  
"Not a bad bit of trading," Tessa said, stealing a handful of berries from the bag.
"This won’t last us long, and we’re down to only two knives."
Tessa laughed and put her arm around his waist.  "Jak, we’re fighting all of the Regent’s army and Bolon’s bullies, too.  Do you think the extra knife would make a difference?"
"That’s not what I mean."
She went on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss on his cheek.  "I know you’re worried about the old man.  But we don’t have any choice.  Come what may, we have to eat."
He knew she was right, but he wasn’t like Tessa.  Nevertheless, he tried to set the problem aside as they walked back to the Serena.  Little puffs of dust billowed up around their boots as they walked through the village, and their path wandered as they skirted deep holes in the street.
It seemed to Jak that he had walked like this many times before, walked beside a woman who meant much to him.  He could feel other lives inside him, like beads on a string.  If he just closed his eyes, he could see them all, remember them all.  He shook his head, trying to throw off the feeling.  He didn’t want to go into one of his trances with Tessa’s sharp eyes watching.
"Jak what’s the matter?"
Her pretty face was full of concern, and he realized he’d stopped in the middle of the path, as if waiting for something.  Just then, a child ran by them calling to another across the way.
. . . .  return from the market, laden with grain.  My wife walks just behind me.  We are poor, and there are no co-wives to help her. . . .  sun burns my naked shoulders . .  .  youngest child sleeps in the shawl slung from her back . . . .  a heavy basket of grain is on her head.  I look back at her.  Alone on the path, with no one else to see me do woman’s work, I take the sleeping child and carry him.  She carries the grain.  My wife is a good woman.
"Jak!  Jak, wake up!"
Tessa shook him, her voice sharp with anxiety.  He saw her face come into focus, as if he were awakening from a dream.  Unnerved, he twisted free and stepped away from her.  What had he done?  What had she seen?  He rubbed his hands across his eyes, trying to clear his vision.
"I’m all right!  Don’t get so excited."
"Don’t get excited?  You just turned into a zombie, and you tell me don’t get excited?"  
She stood very close to him, and he saw the worry in her sapphire eyes.  He looked away.  "I was just thinking about something else." 
"Sure you were."
"Tessa, forget about it.  Okay?"  
His skin was covered with sweat that had nothing to do with the heat.  He couldn’t explain the strangeness to her.  He couldn’t explain the memories from other lives.  He hoped that she would let it pass; pretend it never happened.
"Darling, I’ve seen you do this before.  Only once or twice, and not as bad as this, but I’ve seen it.  It’s as if you’re not even there.  What’s happening to you?" 
"I can’t explain it, Tessa."
"Can’t or won’t?"
He shook his head.  He wanted to tell her.  It would be a relief to have someone to share the burden with him, someone to take some of the load of loneliness off his shoulders.  How could he explain what he didn’t even understand?  But he had to say something; he couldn’t lie to Tessa.
"I don’t know," he said, trying to find words for the strangeness.  "I just have memories sometimes.  Strong memories.  Like they’re real and happening right now.  They block out everything else." 
"Your memory is coming back?"  She sounded both hopeful and worried.
"No!  I don’t know.  Mostly, they aren’t my memories," he admitted to her.  They entered the tall reeds again.  Almost as tall as Jak, the green stems gave a sense of privacy that made it seem safer to talk.  "They belong to other people." 
"That doesn’t make sense."
"I know.  It doesn’t make sense to me either.  But I do remember a little more.  After the fight with n’Tau, something happened to me," he said, "and I remembered being on Shadriss, and something . . . . something tried to eat me.  Tried to eat my mind, my will, my soul.  Whatever.  But I think that I wasn’t what it was expecting.  I remember shock," he paused and then went on.  "My shock . . . its shock, too.  It’s like we both fell into a pool of memories that neither of knew were there.  And . . . and I nearly drowned."
"So, you lost your memories among all those others?"
"Yeah.  Yeah, I think that’s what happened."  
Which was good, in a way.  It meant that his memories were still there, if only he could find them.
"But you know what happened to you?  How you got here?"
"No," he said, frustrated.  "It was just a flash.  A client and his partner attacked me.  Something tried to eat me.  That’s it.  Not exactly anything useful, huh?"
"And the rest of it?  Your strength?  Your ability to heal?  Don’t think I haven’t noticed."
"I don’t know," Jak said.  "I don’t see how they can be related."  He gave her a helpless shrug.  "Maybe I’m some kind of a mutant?  Maybe I’m a freak.  I just don’t know."
Tessa stepped close and embraced him in a hug that offered comfort and friendship and the promise of more.  
"It doesn’t matter to me what you are," she said.  "You survived when another man would have died.  You remained yourself—your stubborn, loyal, all too human self—when another man would have been just an animal in the shell of a man’s body.  You aren’t a freak, Jak.  You’re my pilot.  You’re my protector.  That’s all the matters."
It wasn’t all he wanted to be for her, but it was far more than he’d ever hoped to hear her say.  When she stepped away, he took her hand, and they continued the rest of the way back to the barge in silence.  Now he knew that Tessa had noticed that same blankness, that same helpless trance, before this.  It made him wonder; how many other people had noticed his weakness?

Chapter 24:  Jak
No more strangers’ memories plagued him as they continued upriver.  Another ten days of travel would see them in Tekena.  The distance they had to cover was more than twice that of the direct route, but traveling the direct route meant crossing the Waste—miles of barren sand and hostile beasts.  It was far safer to follow the meandering course of the Ur as it twisted its way to the city.  
What happened after they reached Tekena was up to Kamura.  According to her, her Family’s claim would mean nothing unless she could be there to record Luan n’Chall’s ceremony of Joining with the God Core.  Only the Prime—with the connector to the God Core embedded into his skull at the age of five—could make that link.  Why Family Mobutu cared and why they wanted the alien artifacts didn’t matter to Jak.  Once they reached Tekena, he and Tessa would still have the problem of getting back to Namdrik and finding places on an outbound passenger ship before Bolon found them.  But they’d have the credits to pay for passage off planet.  As for where they’d go from there . . . .  At least, Tessa didn’t seem repelled by what she knew of the strangeness in him.  
They were two days up river from the village where they’d bought food.  Seated on the deck at the bow, Jak leaned back against a stack of grain bags piled against the cabin, enjoying the slight breeze of their passage, and watching the lamnan trudge along the towpath.  The captain and his son—the same boy who’d led them aboard their first night—sat above him on the roof of the deckhouse.  He heard their voices as they called back and forth to the other two who were leading the lamnan.  
"Jak?"
He turned to face Tessa.  Her skin had darkened with the sun to a golden tan, and her white teeth flashed in a smile.
"Just wondered if you were really here."  
"I’m all right.  I was just enjoying the peace and quiet."
"Want me to leave?"
"No.  Stay."  
He patted the grain bag next to him, and she settled in with her shoulder touching his.  Kamura and Toko were at the aft end of the barge.  Practicing their language skills?  He didn’t know.  At least, the boy had stopped referring to adults as ‘Big Ones.’  Jak no longer believed that Toko would hurt the Terran; break her heart probably, but not hurt her physically.  Wrapping his arm around Tessa’s waist, he looked out over the water.  
"Do you suppose we’ll ever be able to live without looking over our shoulders?" he asked.  
Tessa shrugged.  With one slender hand, she brushed the long hair away from her face.  It seemed strange to him to see her left arm bare of bracelets.  But she still had her treasure, he reminded himself, patting the belt that held the half that he guarded. 
"What does it matter?" Tessa answered him, shrugging.  "The way I look at it, you need an enemy or two to spice things up.  You wouldn’t want to live like a farmer, would you?  Every day the same as the one before?"
"Sometimes it seems like a good idea."  
If it would keep Tessa safe, he’d happily spend the rest of his days following the back end of a lamnan while plowing the fields.
"Sure.  For a day or so, but not much more."  She turned to him, her fine-boned face more serious than he’d ever seen.  "Jak, I’ve been thinking, about when we finish our business here.  We can get our ship.  Together."  She took a deep breath, and he was surprised to realize she was nervous.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen her nervous before.  "We talked before about setting up as traders, you and I . . . I know you think it’s just talk, but I mean it.  We could take small cargo into places nobody else dares to go.  We could have a new life.  What do you say?"
For a moment, he was speechless.  Sure, he’d had his daydreams about such a life, but for her to think the same . . . .  She was right; he’d assumed that she was just making idle talk the first time she brought up the idea.  He’d thought that she’d grow tired of both the ship and of him soon enough.  But maybe he’d been wrong.  She was still waiting for his answer, he realized, and she was beginning to look anxious at his continued silence.
"I think that’s a great idea," he said, and he felt that big, dumb grin spread across his face again.
"Good.  I’m glad that’s settled."  She gave him a quick kiss on the lips to seal the bargain.  Jak reached for her and returned her kiss with a more passionate one.  But before he could suggest they take advantage of the empty cabin, there was a scurrying of feet and Toko came running from the aft end of the barge.    
"Big Jak, come look!  A ship’s following us."  Toko cried.
Quickly, they followed him aft to where Kamura stood with her hand shading her eyes as she peered behind them.  Jak sighted along the boy’s grimy finger as saw a white speck, far in the distance.
"Are you sure?" Tessa asked, squinting.
"Yes.  Yes.  A cutter, I think."
A cutter, one of the Regent’s warships.  Toko had sharp eyes.  If the boy was right, they could be in for trouble.  Even during normal times, several cutters patrolled the river, keeping order among the traders, and wringing taxes out of the farmers.  Thanks to the upcoming ceremony, every ship the Regent commanded was on the river.  With its single mast and multiple headsails, the cutter would overtake the barge’s plodding lamnan in no time.  There’d be a crew of trained sailors, too, possibly as many as a dozen.  They stood at the rail for a while, watching the other ship grow from a speck of white to a cluster of sails flying over the river.  
Jak looked around at their small group.  "We’d better get out of sight."
"Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with us," Kamura said.  
If only.  But someone could have spotted Kamura as they left Namdrik.  Or an angry little brother could have sold the information about their passage.  Or the cutter’s crew could just be out to kick a little bargeman ass, maybe collect some extra taxes.  
As they watched, the cutter drew nearer, and they could see that it was not only fast; it was sleek and luxurious.  There was a device painted on the side, a symbol done in gold on the white hull.  Jak could almost make it out.  The shape seemed familiar.  Tessa figured it out just ahead of him.
"That’s not just a cutter, that’s Bolon’s boat!"
Beside Jak, Toko grinned and shivered with excitement.
"You look like you’re enjoying this, kid."
"They want you.  Not me."
"What shall we do?" Kamura asked.  
With grim amusement, Jak noted that her eyes went to Toko, not him, as she asked the question.  Toko looked startled, as if he’d just realized that if Bolon caught them, Kamura would die too.  The girl had the needler tucked in her belt, but he wasn’t sure whether she knew how to use it.  He and Tessa had their remaining two knives and the blasters.  Toko had nothing but teeth, fists, and Jak’s old knife, the one he’d taken when the mobbies had captured him.  They were outnumbered and out gunned.
 Looking at their highly flammable cargo, Jak said, "We don’t dare use the blasters.  The beam would start a flash fire in the compost.  Kamura, can you use that needler?"
"It doesn’t look as if I have any choice.  Not if these men are part of the gang you warned me about."
Jak nodded.  Of the four of them, Kamura was the least able to defend herself.  Better to let her keep the needler so she’d have at least some small chance of survival.
"Our best bet is to hide on shore," Jak told them.  "It’s not much of an option, but we can’t fight the cutter’s crew.  We’ll go over the side as they board the barge."
"This close to shore, there will be banderri in the water," Tessa objected.  "At least one school.  Maybe two.  We need to give them something to feed on if we’re going to make it to land."  She eyed Toko with a measuring gaze.  
Jak felt his gut roil.  He didn’t want to do this, but if anybody had to die, it wasn’t going to be Tessa.  Still, he’d developed a grudging respect for the tough ex-mobbie.  That didn’t leave many options.
"I’ll see that a couple of Bolon’s men go over the side before we jump," Jak said.  
He hated killing; but when it came to protecting Tessa, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.
"Throw in Bolon himself," Toko suggested with a sharp smile.  "He’ll feed plenty of banderri."
There was a thump as the cutter threw ropes onto the barge, and they all staggered as their forward motion slowed abruptly.  On the towpath, the lamnan lowed and coughed.
"No more time to talk," Jak said.  "You three slip in among the cargo and be ready to go over the side."
"How will we know when?" Kamura asked.
Taking Kamura’s arm, Toko answered her, "When we hear screaming, we go."  
He pulled her with him into the one of the narrow airways between the cargo baskets.  Jak looked down into Tessa’s frightened eyes.  
"I know you hate to do this," she said softly, "but there’s no other choice.  Just please be careful, be sure the body that goes into the water to feed the banderri is one of Bolon’s men, not you.  Please?"
She wanted reassurance, but pretty words were beyond him.  He dropped a kiss on her forehead and pushed her towards the space where Toko and Kamura had vanished.
Knife in hand, he stepped silently toward the bow of the boat where he could hear voices raised in argument.  He moved through the narrow passage between the cabin and the portside row of compost baskets.  As he neared the bow of the barge, Bolon’s voice rose above the others.
"I want your passengers."
On the main deck, eight of Bolon’s men stood around the captain and his crew of three.  The two on the towpath had joined the men on the barge.  Bolon held the captain’s son by the throat—the same boy who’d led them to their cabin the night they’d boarded.  Bolon stood easily a head taller than did his wriggling captive.  His dark bronze silk pants and tunic seemed out of place on the barge, but there was no doubt that he was in command here.
The captain and his crew were armed with nothing more than the goads they used to urge the lamnan on the pathway.  Bolon and the six men who’d come aboard with him carried knives and blasters.
"No passengers!" the captain protested.  "Let my son go!" 
The captain must have realized who Bolon was, and he knew that once his passengers were dead, the crime lord wasn’t going to leave any witnesses to his actions.
Shaking the young man as if he were no more than a bundle of sticks, Bolon growled, "Don’t lie to me.  I know they’re aboard."
Jak heard shrill voices from behind Bolon crying, "On Serena.  Alpha said Serena!"
The mobbies were here?  Jak reached up and pulled himself onto the roof of the cabin so he could have a better view.  All eyes were focused on Bolon.  No one noticed him.  From two meters above, he saw Kishee and Mice standing near the starboard side of the deck.  Faces white, teeth bared, they both looked terrified to be in the company of so many armed adults.  But neither wanted to lose face before the other, so they stayed; Kishee held in place by hatred and Mice held by the outrage of betrayal.
"You heard the brats," Bolon said.  "Where are they?"
"Are you a fool to believe mobbies?" the captain demanded.
Casually, Bolon held the boy with one hand and unholstered his blaster with the other.  With quick, easy brutality, he shot the boy in the head and tossed the body overboard.  Feeling nauseated, Jak watched as the water boiled with banderri.  With a howl of anguish, the captain threw himself on Bolon.  The man fell away in a blinding flash of light as Bolon blasted him.  That he also seared one of his own men at the same time meant nothing to Bolon.  Smoke billowed up as a stray beam ignited the compost baskets on the starboard side of the deck.
They still needed another body in the water if the others were going to get away, and Jak knew just whose body it should be.  He sprang, intending to come down on top of Bolon.  But the crime lord took that moment to move forward to grab the nearest bargeman by his shirt.  Jak landed, rolling along the deck.  He came up on his feet in a crouch.  Startled, one of Bolon’s men slashed at him with a barbed knife.  Jak whipped back out of the way, and a sidekick smashed the man senseless to the deck.  Using fists, feet, and teeth, Jak fought his way toward Bolon.  Around him, he heard men shouting, their curses pierced by the shrill cries of the mobbies.  A heavy weight landed on his back, and Jak slammed face first to the deck.  Strong hands closed on his throat.  He grabbed his attacker’s arm and yanked, hearing the elbow joint give way and the man yell.
Another of Bolon’s men sprang at him, and Jak pitched him over the side.  There was no time for the man even to scream before the beetles ripped his flesh into a thousand mouthfuls.  Two of Bolan’s men in the water, plus the Captain’s son; he hoped it would be enough.  He hoped Toko had gone over the side with Kamura and Tessa and made it safely to shore.  
Jak felt a sudden, searing band of pain on his thigh.  He whirled in time to see Mice draw back for another slash with his small knife, probably one of the knives that Jak himself had bought for the pack.  Hot blood poured down his leg, and he fell forward.  He slapped Mice away, but some buried part of him made him pull his punch.  Mice shook his head to clear his vision and came at him again.
Kishee shouldered Mice aside, anxious to make the kill herself.  The boy snarled something shrill that Jak didn’t understand.  Mice staggered forward.  The mobbie female took one more step toward Jak, and Mice buried his knife to the hilt in Kishee’s back.  Jak saw him struggle to twist it free, and he watched the look of surprise fade from the girl’s eyes as she died.
Jak pulled himself to his feet.  His leg felt weak, with the promise of pain to come when the shock wore off, but he could stand.  He groaned as he saw Tessa struggling with one of Bolon’s men and lurched toward them.  She was supposed to be off the damn barge!  He pulled the sailor off Tessa and threw him overboard.  There was blood on her face but, thank the Lost Gods, she wasn’t badly hurt.
"Get off the barge!" he shouted.
"Not without you!"
Choking white smoke billowed across the deck as more of the compost ignited.  The smoke eddied and Bolon loomed up before them.  A quick backhand from the crime lord flung Tessa aside as if she were no more than one of the scurrying mobbies.  She flew backward across the deck and slammed into the grain bags just behind her.  Aiming at Tessa, Bolon raised his blaster.
  Jak tackled Bolon just above the knees.  The big man should have fallen, but Bolon only staggered and then kicked Jak away.  Catching Bolon’s gun arm, Jak twisted with all his strength.  Amazed, he felt Bolon jerk away from him.  Even as big as he was, Bolan shouldn’t have been stronger than Jak, not when Jak had the strangeness inside him.  He swung at Bolon with all the power he had, catching him in the chest, just below the sternum.  It should have smashed the other man’s ribs like dry sticks.  Bolon only grunted and fell back a step.  Coughing, choking on the clouds of white smoke, they stared at each other in astonishment.
"You!"  Bolon exclaimed.  "You do have the phage in you!  I thought it was dead."
And then newfound memories rose, and Jak recognized the face before him.  Bolon was the partner!  The second man!  While Jak stared at him, stunned, Bolon grabbed Jak by the chain that held his pilot’s medallion and tightened his grip.  Strangling, Jak tried to pull free.  When Bolon’s fist caught him on the side of his head, it felt as if a ground car had slammed into him at full speed.  Jak’s vision blurred; his ears rang.
He saw Tessa fling herself on Bolon again.
Bolon swatted her away, hardly seeming to notice her desperate lunge.  Through black spots that blurred his vision, Jak saw her hit railing and then go over the side into the river.  Bolon stepped closer to Jak, the blaster centered on his chest.  His expression was odd, and Jak had the strange feeling that someone else was swimming behind Bolan’s eyes.  Then the big man smiled.  
"You didn’t know, did you?  You don’t know what you are!"  Bolon laughed a sound of relief, of triumph.  "You don’t know!"  
He fired the blaster.
Jak saw the flash, felt fire in his chest.  He smelled the stink of burning flesh and realized it was his own.  A wall of flame rose out of the deck as the smoldering compost flared up.  With a sudden, thunderous roar, the rest of the cargo went up in flames.  An explosion of flame lifted him like a huge hot hand, and he was falling, splashing into cool water that closed over his head.  
Then darkness claimed him.  
Chapter 25:  Jak
 "Come on, Jak, don’t die!  Please!"
Somebody was shaking his body, but he wasn’t in it.  Nobody home.
"You think I want to be stuck by myself out here in the middle of nowhere?  Live!  You hear me?  Live!"
He knew the voice, but he couldn’t remember the face.  The voice was laughter with an iron will, flirtatious warmth, and calculating intelligence.  The sound lapped in and out of hearing, like waves breaking and receding while he floated on calm waters, without past or future.  On the shore?  Something familiar, but the vision was fuzzy, the image distorted.
"Jak!  Jak!"
Pain.  Pain in his chest.  A small, hand holding his, squeezing hard.  One more small hurt.  Shut off the pain, and he was dead.  He drifted, ignoring the pleading voice, floating close by the island of the dead, but never quite all the way to the shore.  Since he was a ghost among ghosts, what he saw, he saw dimly.  He watched as civilizations rose and fell like tides.  Strange cultures ebbed and flowed—human and alien—but somehow not alien to him.  Memories flooded into his mind—stronger, faster, sweeping him away.  He was drowning in the torrent, and still the memories came.  He was torn apart, losing himself in too many lifetimes.  
. . . laughing as I ride crazy-fast on a two-wheeled ground vehicle . . . on stage singing in a sweet and piercing soprano . . . secreting material to build a huge black hive and writing our history on it as I do so. . . frantic, calling for my son as he disappears into the rushing water . . . running a drill . . . wounded in a firefight . . . taking eggs as the queens lay them and placing them in the chamber . . . playing with a puppy . . . mother . . . hunter . . . hatchling . . . sailor . . . carpenter . . . host body . . . priest . . .
The memories swept by faster and faster.  Shuddering, he fought to pull himself out of the flood.  He fought to keep his sense of self, his small, short-lived self that had been so hard won.  Struggling, he gained control of that ever-increasing river and slowed it.  The flood became a stream, the stream a trickle, until there was time enough to choose, to find the one thing he wanted—his own past.  
. . . alone at a battered table in a nameless bar. . . here is my client with his oddly silent partner.  I look up at the two men, one medium height with smooth regular features and cunning eyes.  The partner is taller, taller than I am, with the blank face that said nothing much happened behind his eyes.
"Time to go," the client says.  We go out into the hot darkness.  "The ground-car is over here."  Taking my arm, he steers me around the side of the building.  It’s dark in the side street.  
The partner shoves me against the nearby wall and pins me there.  Then the client is on me, too.  Abruptly, the client’s face is on mine, the client’s tongue in my mouth.  
I struggle, but the two men hold me easily.  
And then it begins; a creeping sense of otherness at first.  A sense of something moving, tasting, inside my head.  This isn’t a rape, I realize, at least not in the usual human terms.  I feel the alien something growing within me.  
I feel it when it reaches my brain.  The client leans over me, nose to nose, staring into my eyes as if he can see what was going on in my head.  
One mind, multiple bodies.  Hosts, it calls them.  The client and his assistant are one being.  But it needs more hosts in order to complete its plans, and it doesn’t want to take time to grow them.  It wants to add me to the collection.  But that isn’t going to happen!  This body is already occupied, so get the hell out!  I fight with savage strength, fight the greatest battle of my life, all inside my own mind.
The thing ignores me and burrows through my memories, like a new homeowner clearing out the previous occupant’s mess.  I fight, but it digs deeper and deeper.  The trip here, the escape, my work for my father, time at the academy, childhood; all fly away into darkness.  And still the thing digs deeper, until I no longer remember why I fight, only that I must.  It digs past earliest memories of warmth and soft skin, past pain and bright lights, and then it strikes the bedrock of what makes my soul human.  Memories spew through my mind, through the invader’s mind.  Thousands of memories, millions.  We fall into the collective unconscious of humanity, and we’re swept away into a myriad of lives.  
Hiding in the long grass to hunt antelope, screaming as I give birth, building a new house for a farmer, running for my life from the mob, teaching a classroom full of children, dying with my family around me, a first kiss warm on my lips . . . .  More and more memories stream by.  I’m lost in them.  I feel the other struggle to pull away.  Hands release my body, and I slide down the wall in the alley while other lives sparkle through my brain. 
"Kill it!" I hear the client scream.  Kill what? Kill who?  He stumbles past me, clutching his head.  "Kill it now!"
The other is almost gone from my mind.  Only a fragment remains.  I’m able to open my eyes just in time to see a piece of rebar descending.  
A hand touched his face.  The palm felt cool and gentle against his feverish skin.  "Just lie still," a voice said, the same voice he’d heard before.  
Tessa.  If his face hurt less, he’d have smiled.  He closed his eyes and drifted again, this time into a deep, healing sleep.
Chapter 26:  Tessa
"Jak?"
Eyes still closed, he turned his head toward the sound of her voice.  Tessa felt a shuddering wave of relief go through her.  She’d been so sure he was dead, then so certain he was dying, yet still he lived.  He groaned and clutched at the white sand beneath him.  She’d taken off his clothes and spread them to dry.  Only his boots and trousers and the cloth belt with his half of her bracelets sewn into it had survived.  Her own boots and belt sat drying next to Jak’s.  
Cross-legged, Tessa sat on the ground next to him, just watching him breathe.  Her dress had ripped up the side, so that her bare left leg rested among the reeds.  The once white fabric was gray where it wasn’t black with soot or stained grass green.  She was a long, long way from her life as a Hired Companion.  Although she still had her bracelets, she thought, as she patted the black bands next to her.  
With a grimy finger, she traced what remained of the scar on Jak’s face as she marveled again at the change she saw in him.  What had once been a twisted, purple snake of ruined skin, a scar that distorted his face into a permanent snarl, was now nothing more than a narrow white line.  The change revealed a handsome face, she thought.  Not beautiful in the Veloran sense, but then she wanted nothing to do with Velora or their customs.  She saw even features, with a nose and chin that were a little too large, but seemed to fit Jak’s face just fine.  He matched now, she thought.  His face matched the spirit of the man within.
At the sound of rustling in the reeds, she glanced around, still afraid that some of either crew might have survived, might find them.  The Serena had burned to the water line.  She didn’t know what had happened to the cutter.  She’d been knocked off the barge by Bolon’s casual swipe.  Tessa couldn’t swim, and she’d been fortunate that the barge drew very little water and had been close to shore.  The river had come only to mid-chest on her.  As the barge went up, the blast had passed over her head.  Debris and body parts had skimmed by just above her skull.  One body bigger than the others had gone flying past her, and she’d seen Jak splash into the water.  Then thick white smoke from the burning compost rolled over the water, making it impossible to see.  Cursing, praying to sweet Lady Ur, to bloody Nish, to anyone who’d listen, she’d searched for him.  All she’d known was that she needed to find Jak now.  She’d reached out blindly and there he was.  She’d managed to turn him over so that he was face up only to find that his chest was a scorched and bloody ruin.  She’d thought he was dead.  But then he took a breath, the air escaping through the hole in his chest with a terrifying burbling sound.  Dragging his body through the river with her, she’d found her way to the shore by walking into ever shallower water.  
She’d reached the bank and, frantic, had pulled Jak’s unresponsive body a good thirty paces away from the river.  She’d heard stories of how adrenaline could give that kind of strength, but she’d never expected to experience it herself.  Once they were far enough inland, once the vegetation had started to give way to sandy patches, she’d stopped.  Now, they were well hidden among the tall reeds of the riverbank.  
Listening, she heard the chirping and chattering of the tiny lizards that told her they were safe.  The rustling in the reeds was just the wind.  No one would find them here.  They were sheltered for the moment.
She touched the bruise that swelled the curve of her left cheek, and smoothed her hair away from her face.  Her hand wiped away a few tears, too; but they were tears of relief, she told herself, only relief.  Beside her, Jak opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no sound came out.  He licked his dry lips. 
"Here, drink this."  
She’d managed to salvage the bottom half of a small, plastic jug from the wreckage.  The top was melted to dribbles of slag, but there was enough left to hold a cupful of water.  She thought they were far enough from both Namdrik and Tekena for the water to be safe to drink.  And it wasn’t as if the delivery boy was going to bring around her usual weekly ration of clean water.  Raising Jak’s head on her arm, she held it to his mouth.  He swallowed a mouthful and tried again to speak.  
"What—"   He struggled to sit up.
"Lie still.  Don’t talk.  I pulled you out of the river with a hole in your chest that I could put my fist through."  She pushed him back down onto the warm sand.  She had to force herself to be gentle.  Although the hole was only a circle of pale skin now, she was furious with him for frightening her so badly.  "So just be quiet.  Rest.  Get well."
Jak must have heard the tremor in her voice, because he did as he was told.  He lay on his back with his green eyes dazed as he stared up through the reeds at the deep blue dome of the late afternoon sky.  Around them, Tessa heard the small sounds of wind in the reeds and the soft lap of water from a little stream that ran nearby on its way to the Ur.  Over all was the smell of the river.
"Tessa, how long?"  
Again, he struggled to sit up.
"A day," she told him, "only a day.  And I told you to keep still."  Despite the snap in her voice, Tessa was gentle as she helped him to a more comfortable position.  "You’re in no shape to move."
"Got to get away from here.  Bolon . . . ."
"Bolon is dead."  Her hand brushed his face as she pretended to wipe sand away from his mouth.  Once again, her fingertip traced the scar that was almost gone.  "He must have blasted you just before the ship went up in flames with him aboard."
"Blasted me?"  His right hand went to his chest.  
"You had a huge hole in your chest!"  
She’d thought he was dead.  She’d thought she would die herself, the pain and grief had been so sharp.
"It was chaos," Tessa said.  "When that idiot Bolon blasted the captain and his son, he hit the compost with his beam.  I was in the water when the cargo went up like a bomb, and the whole barge burned.  I found you in the river and dragged you ashore.  We’re not far from the remains of the barge, but there’s not much that’s useful left of it."  
She gestured to the tall reeds that surrounded them.  She didn’t know how she’d found the strength to drag Jak to shore, let alone pull him into hiding.  But a desperate need had driven her and given her strength.
"What about Kamura and Toko?"
Tessa shrugged in dismissal.  "Your two strays?  Who knows?  I haven’t seen any pieces; at least, not that I could identify.  But it was messy.  We’re alive through luck, nothing more." 
She didn’t know what had happened to the Terran girl and the mobbie, and she didn’t care.  Jak was alive, and so was she.  As for the strange way he’d healed both a should-be-fatal wound and old scars, she didn’t care about that either.  No, she did care, she cared a lot that whatever made him different had kept him alive.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"Yeah, I could eat."  
She smiled.  Never mind that the smile was shaky.  Jak could always eat.  
"There’s some lamnan.  I cooked it this morning to hide the fire."  
She’d used her blaster set on its narrowest beam to light a pile of the larger dried reeds and scraps of wood.  It hadn’t been much of a fire, and the foliage had served to dissipate what little smoke it made.
"Where’d you get lamnan?" he asked, trying to sit up once more.  
She shook her head and gave in, helping him to lean against a dense stand of reeds.  
"When we got out of the water, I still had my blaster and my knife.  Three of the barge’s lamnan had run away, but the remaining one had broken its back.  Guess he fell in the panic or the others trampled him.  Anyway, I put him out of his misery and carved off a few steaks.  Best to eat now.  It’s going bad fast."
She dug the meat out from under the sand and unwrapped it from its nest of grasses.  Tessa watched as Jak wolfed down the half-raw lamnan.  Cooking wasn’t one of her skills, not even if she’d had a real kitchen to work in.  All of his scars had faded, she saw with wonder, not just the one on his face.  They were nothing but pale, thin lines.  He hadn’t noticed the change yet, but he would.
Finally, having eaten his fill, he licked his fingers and looked over at her from eyes that were the same green as the reeds around them. 
"I remembered more," he said.
"Meaning?"  
Heart pounding, she tried to keep her voice light.  This was the moment that she’d feared from the day she’d brought him home with her.
"I remember what happened to me," he said slowly.  "All of it this time."  His mouth opened and closed, as if he couldn’t find the words he needed.  At last, he said, "Something tried to eat me."
Tessa frowned.  This was what he’d told her before, at the village.  Someone had smashed him across the face, hard; she’d seen that for herself.  But something had tried to eat him?  That didn’t make sense. 
"I’m not explaining this real well."  He took a deep breath.  "I was on the run, for something I didn’t do.  A crime that I didn’t commit.  I was a long way from home.  I was here, in fact, on Shadriss.  In a bar."
Tessa nodded and took Jak’s hand in hers.  She’d found him outside the Doppler, a bar near the spaceport.  Neither the best bar in town nor the worst, it was a place a stranger might frequent.
 "I went outside with my client and his partner.  I thought they were going to pay me, but they had something else in mind."
He paused and pushed his hair back from his face.  He’s lost the band that usually kept it tied back, and the long red strands hung lank and dirty.  He was naked and filthy.  Why then did she take so much pleasure in the sight of him?
"Only, they weren’t really men," he told her.  "I think their bodies were human, but something else was running them.  Some kind of parasite, I guess.  Anyway, it was one thing controlling both bodies, and it wanted to add me to the family.
"They put . . . they put whatever it was inside me, and it started eating my mind.  That’s the best I can describe it."  He shuddered.  "My memories dissolved, until I forgot who I was and why I was fighting.  I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t remember why.  All I had left was my name.  Then, it broke through something.  Something that neither of us knew was there.  It felt like a group mind, a collective mind of all of humanity.  It was too much for me, too much for the other.  It tried to break away.  I can remember my client yelling to his partner, ‘Kill it.  Kill it now.’  And he meant kill me and kill what was in me.  The last thing I remember is a piece of rebar coming down across my face."  He smiled.  "Then, there was you."
"I see."  She looked at him, and then looked away.  So, he’d remembered at last, remembered a life before her, a life without her.  Would he go back to that now, if he had the chance?
"So, what’s wrong?"
She smiled, and smoothed the rough fabric of her dress over her knees.  Only years of practice let her hide what she was feeling.  
"Nothing’s wrong."
"No, you’re not happy.  I can tell, Tessa.  You’ve got that sparkly mask in place, the one you wear when you’re with your clients.  Don’t treat me like that.  Tell me what’s wrong."
She couldn’t deny it.  She’d been such a fool.  Such a complete and utter idiot.  It had taken almost losing Jak to make her admit the truth to herself.  Jak wasn’t just her pilot.  He wasn’t just her protector.  He was the man she loved.  
"I can tell you’re not happy," he repeated, not accusingly, just thoughtfully, a statement of fact.  Tessa said nothing.  "Come on, Tessa, give.  Tell me what’s bothering you."
She stared off into the gathering dusk. 
"Nothing’s bothering me, so get off my back." 
 Jak waited.  She had to say something before she blurted out exactly what she felt.  She’d sworn long ago that she’d never be that vulnerable.  And she wouldn’t, not even for Jak.
So, she asked, "And your home?  Your family and clan?  Do you remember them?" 
"Yeah," he replied in a voice so low that it was almost lost in the chirping of the lizards.  "I remember them.  Not everything.  But I remember murder, and I remember betrayal.  
"My father ran a shipping business—built it himself from one ship to nearly fifty.  My brother and I helped him run it.  Only Felix liked the high life more than he liked working.  He hid his debts for the gambling and the women from our father and me until his creditors got impatient."  Jak’s voice turned angry.  "So then Felix got the brilliant idea of murdering Dad and framing me for it so he could inherit the business."
"That’s what you were running from?"
"Yeah.  I came home and found Felix with Dad’s body.  The asshole had the nerve to tell me his grand plan.  He meant to blast me and tell the cops he’d caught me in the act, but he missed.  He always was too lazy to practice.  
"Anyway, I ran.  I knew Dad had a small aircar hidden on the grounds.  His ‘getaway car’ he called it.  Guess he wasn’t always the respectable business owner.  I outran Felix, and was away and at the spaceport before the cops even reached the house.  I got off planet, found work here and there as a pilot, and I’ve been on the run since.  At least, I was until that thing tried to eat my soul."
He looked at Tessa, then glanced down at his chest were only a red mark remained where there should have been a death wound. 
"You’ve noticed how quick I heal?"
"How could I miss it?  You ought to be dead several times over."
"Those two left something inside me; I’ve been calling it the strangeness.  I think the healing is part of the strangeness.  And I’m stronger than I ought to be.  Maybe that’s part of it, too.  The two men who attacked me were both a lot stronger than any human ought to be."
"Something about you is different," Tessa agreed.  "Have you looked at yourself, Jak?  Look at your skin."  She waited while he looked at the circle of new flesh on his chest, while he examined his arms and legs only to find old scars missing.  "You healed even faster than usual this time, even healed old wounds.  The scar on your face," she reached out to touch the narrow white line once more, "Jak, it’s almost gone."
"My face?  My face is okay?  No more monster mask?"
His voice was shaky.  She hadn’t realized it meant so much to him.  But why wouldn’t it?  She, of all people, knew what it was like to be scorned for being ugly.
"Your face is fine.  Quite handsome, really.  Although, with your coloring, you’re obviously from off world."
She smiled as the pale skin that went with the red hair and green eyes reddened in what had to be a blush.  But they needed to know more about this change.
"The men, who were they?  Would you recognize them if you saw them again?"
"I haven’t seen my client since that night, but Bolon was one of the men—the partner.  I just didn’t recognize him until we were on the barge.  I think Bolon knows what I am, what they put inside me.  On the Serena, before the blast, when we were fighting, he said something about a phage.  What the hell is a phage?"
"A phage is a kind of bacteria.  But I don’t see how that relates to what happened to you."
"Bolon knows.  I have to find him, Tessa.  I have to find out what he knows."
"Jak, Bolon is dead, remember?"
"No, he’s alive.  I can feel him."
Tessa wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t press the point.  "I’d rather believe Bolon is dead, but if you say he’s alive, and you want to find him, I’ll help you."  
She would do anything that would keep her with Jak.
"Thanks."  Jak yawned and shuddered.  His face was still drawn with fatigue.  
All this talking was tiring him out.  She wished she could make him lie down and rest.  
"It won’t be easy.  Bolon is more dangerous than we thought.  We’ll be taking risks we can’t even imagine."
"So?  Is that something new?  Are we safe now?  Have we ever been safe?"
He smiled.  "No, I guess not."  He squeezed her hand and stretched out on the cloak again.  "And we still have to get out of this mess first."
"Yes, and find a way off Shadriss so we can collect the payment from Kamura.  We didn’t get her to Tekena, but we did our best.  The girl is probably dead now, but we still met the terms of the contract."
"She could be still alive," Jak said, yawning.  His eyes drifted shut.  "Toko was with her."
"And you think that mobbie cares what happens to her?"
"Yeah," he said, "I kinda do."
About to argue, Tessa saw that Jak had fallen asleep again.  She sighed.  Best to let him rest.  She sat in silence as the setting sun reddened the reeds.  They were marooned here, days from anywhere.  They had the river Ur, with its schools of ravenous banderri, on one side and on the other, the Waste, with its moki and other deadly creatures.
Tessa thought about what he’d told her.  So Jak could sense Bolon.  Did that mean that Bolon could sense Jak, in turn?  She felt so helpless, so blind with ignorance
She looked up at the heavens as full night settled in.  The sky cut a black swathe above them.  The stars seemed low, close to the ground, belying the immense distances she knew lay between them.  Would she ever be free to rove from star to star?  She glanced at Jak.  She could barely see him in the glimmering starlight.  If he did leave Shadriss, would she go with him?
Yes, he loved her now, but would that last once he was no longer a homeless wanderer?  Love was such a treacherous emotion.  She’d learned that on Velora.  She’d loved her father, and she’d thought he’d loved her, even though she was such a disappointment to him.  Looking back, she realized that he’d been a weak man, craven even by Veloran standards, and too afraid of what others thought of him to ever see her as a real person.  And she’d been naive—by any standards.  She’d gone on believing in him right up until the day he sold her.
Funny how so big a change in her life could happen without warning.  But wasn’t that the way it always was; go along dumb and happy until the ground-car slams into you, until the flood washes you away, until the earth opens under your feet?  It had been all of those things for her.  She’d been so stupid.  She still cringed remembering it.
Market day was always hard for her.  The whispering was bad enough, but what hurt most was the way their eyes slid over her, deliberately not seeing her.  Don’t look at the freak.  Don’t stare at the too short girl with the strangely colored hair and eyes.  A throwback, they said, bad genes from the very earliest settlers.  Genes from before the time they’d come close to real beauty.  Blue eyes instead of gray, black hair instead of dark blond, and not even two meters tall.  
 That day, they bought their usual supplies, and then her father had bought her a new dress.  She’d been so happy.  He never bought her presents!  And this was a lovely dress, silky blue fabric with a swirl of skirt.  Too long, of course; she’d have to hem it when they got home.  Only there hadn’t been any going home.  Never any going home again.
Their next stop had been in a part of the village she’d never visited before.  She’d been shocked that her father would bring her to the prostitutes’ street.  An alley, really, with small buildings painted with the gaudy colors that indicated their purpose.  He’d stopped before one painted cherry red with a chartreuse door.  With a curt, "Come," to her, he’d stepped inside.
In those days, she’d tried to be an obedient daughter, hoping to make up for her other deficiencies, so she’d followed her tall father’s back inside.  She’d heard respectful male voices greeting him, and then he’d stepped aside so the men could see her.
"Here she is," her father had said.  "My shame."
Cheeks burning, she’d looked back at the strangers.  They were from off world, short dark men, even more ugly than she was.  But unlike the villagers, they didn’t look away.  No, they stared at her with appraising eyes, as if weighing up some bargain at the market.  And that was exactly what she’d been.  
"Payment as agreed," the man who seemed to be the leader had told her father.
"As agreed."
There was a moment of business while they entered a transaction onto the database.  She’d stood there, clutching the bag that contained her new dress, still not understanding what was happening to her.  Not even glancing her way, her father had gone to the door.  When she moved to follow him, a man had taken her arm.
"No girl, you stay here."
And that was how she’d found out that her father had sold her.  Too stunned even to protest, she’d done as she was told.  She’d been numb, numb through her sale to a whorehouse on Shadriss, a broken doll going through the motions of her training, without feeling as she serviced her first clients.  Then one day, anger burned through the numbness, a bright spark of rage warming the ice of her heart.  She’d vowed then to be free someday, to trust no man, to let no man own her, to love no one.   
And Jak had made her break her vow.
With a sigh, she lay down beside Jak, with her head on his shoulder.  Her movement and the trickle of her tears on his skin woke him.  He stirred and spoke with a voice so soft it blended with the murmur of the river.
"Tessa, don’t give up.  We’ll make it through this."
"I suppose you’ll leave once you’ve finished this business," she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into the soft skin of his neck.  
"Will you go with me?"
"Yes, of course.  I thought we’d already agreed on that.  This doesn’t change anything between us—unless you want it to.  I know you don’t need me any more—"
"Need you!"  He rose up on one elbow to look down at her from serious green eyes.  "What does need have to do with it?  Do I need my arms, my eyes, my head?  Tessa, you’re part of me, and it would be like cutting my heart out to lose you.  I love you."  
He looked at her as if he expected her to laugh at him, but she didn’t laugh.  Instead, she leaned reached up and kissed him.  It was a long, gentle kiss.
"I thought you’d never say that," Tessa whispered when they separated.  "I’ve felt the same about you for so long."
"Why didn’t you say so?"
"Because I was afraid you’d run away.  Because I was afraid you wouldn’t want me."
She ran her hand through his long, red hair.  Such a strange color for hair, as green was such a strange color for eyes, so totally against the Veloran standard.  So much better than the Veloran standard.  She’d never had so much trouble putting her thoughts into words.  
"What if you woke one day to remember a clan and a family elsewhere, a wife who wanted you, a place to return to?  Would you want then, to be tied to a freed slave?  Would you want to be bound to a woman who was sold on the block and bought her freedom with her body?"
Jak reached to cradle her face in his hands.
"None of that matters.  I remember my past now, and I promise you, there is no wife; there’s never been any other woman for me.  I love you, Tessa.  I love you for what you are, for who you are—strong, beautiful, clever, dangerous."  
He kissed her with each word, on her throat, her eyes, and finally on her mouth.  His kisses sent a thrill of pleasure through her that was different from anything she’d ever known.  She felt his arms tighten around her.  Tessa knew the art of making love; it was part of her trade.  But there was no art here; only a blind, searing passion that overwhelmed her.  This wasn’t some High Lord.  This was Jak!
She felt his arousal, too.  There was nothing between them but her torn shift.  Twisting, she pulled it off.  The feel of his strong, warm body against hers was so right!  
"Jak," she heard herself say, as if the words were an unstoppable force welling up from inside her.  "Jak, I love you."
Chapter 27:  Jak
Jak gazed at a sky swimming with stars, like the lights of a distant city, only instead of just a family, each light held millions of lives, sometimes billions.  In the Waste, he could see so many more stars, so many more lives.  Jak stretched and held Tessa a little closer.  It was late, almost morning, and they lay sprawled in the sand on the side of an enormous dune.  For most of the night, they’d climbed over broken ground and rocky outcrops.  A short while ago, they’d entered an area of sand dunes.  Although they’d been hiking steadily for hours, Jak still felt strong—it was as if his injuries had never occurred—but he could tell that Tessa was having trouble keeping up.  So he’d called a rest stop here on the dune.  They lay side by side on their backs, staring up at a multitude of stars and the waning crescent of Liss.
Leaving the river, they’d found and followed what looked like an animal path, a trail that ran through the reeds, between the water and the Waste.  Once or twice, Jak spotted what might have been human footprints, but he hadn’t said anything to Tessa.  If there were strangers around, he didn’t want to worry her.  And if Kamura or Toko was somewhere ahead of them, they’d find them—or their bodies—soon enough.
Jak had made sure Tessa had water to drink, even though it meant that he only pretended to drink himself.  If the strangeness could heal a blaster wound, it could damn well deal with a little thirst.  Using Tessa’s knife, he’d cut half-a-dozen one-meter lengths of the larger reeds—some were as thick as his arm—then pounded salvaged plastic into the bottoms, filled them with water, and stoppered them with grass, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to get them across the Waste.
But they couldn’t follow the river.  Even if they could make their way through the thick stands of reeds that grew to the water’s edge, they’d soon be spotted by a passing patrol.  Jak was sure that Bolon was still alive, and his men must be out there looking for them.  But the river here made a long loop south and then meandered north again in almost a 180-degree turn to end at Tekena.  If they went overland across the top of that loop, they could cut the trek to Tekena to three or four days.  Jak’s hope was that they’d find water on the way.  He’d spent enough time leading hunters in the Waste to know that seeps—small hidden springs with good, sweet water—could be found in some of the rocky outcrops at the edge of the desert.  But they were almost through the rocks, and he’d seen no sign of water.
"Think we’ll make it out there to our ship?" Jak asked, looking up at the stars.  
He didn’t want to think about water, didn’t want to let Tessa see how worried he was.  Kamura was missing, probably dead, but if they could get off Shadriss, get to a B-class planet, they could access the payment she’d promised them.  Never mind that the odds of doing that were nearly impossible.  Beside him, he heard Tessa sigh.  
"Yeah.  Someday," she said, but her voice was weary.  "Someday soon, we’ll go get our ship.  And we’ll be free traders.  Nobody will own us.  We can go where we want, do what we will." 
Trying to encourage her, Jak said, "Sounds good to me.  What shall we name our ship?"
"I don’t know.  Something happy.  The Song Bird?"
"How about the Tessa?"
"No," she said, "never that!  That’s a Veloran vanity, naming things after themselves.  I don’t want anything to do with that."
"But you’re Veloran," Jak pointed out.  "And a damn beautiful one, too."
"No, Jak.  I told you before; I’m flawed."
He touched her cheek lightly as she lay in his arms.  Her head was warm and heavy against his bare chest.  
"You’re not flawed, not in any way."
"My father would disagree with you."  Her voice was small and choked by the ashes of burnt out anger.  "I’m far from what the Veloran consider beautiful.  My hair is too dark, my eyes are too blue, and I’m way too short.  Any one of those defects would be enough for me to be called plain, but all three together were a constant reminder of my father’s failure to breed true to the ideal.  That’s why he sold me.  My father tried to blame my mother for the bad genes, but she had other children by other men, and there was nothing wrong with them."
But Jak was still dealing with the outrage her earlier words had brought.  
"Your own father sold you to the slavers?  I thought you must have been captured, kidnapped, something like that.  But your own father . . . ."  He sputtered into silence.
"There’s no need to be angry on my behalf," she murmured into the hollow of his neck.  Her breath was warm on his skin as he held her with one arm around her waist and one hand caressing the back of her head.  "On Velora, the mother owns any male children, and the father owns any female children.  I mean really owns them; they’re property until they’re twenty years old and approved by the Veloran Standards Bureau.  It’s not unusual for a parent to sell a defective child to the traders who pass through.  Anyway, I’ve long since gotten over it.  And I haven’t done so badly for myself, now, have I?  I have you, and once we leave Shadriss, we have a ship.  That’s all that I want."
Jak decided not to stir up old feelings, better to talk about the future—even one they might never see—than to brood on the past.  But he vowed to himself that if he ever met Tessa’s father, he’d see how close to the Veloran standard of beauty the man came after Jak’s fists smashed his face.
"Yeah, we’ve got a ship," he said.  "So, we still need a name.  How about . . .how about the Dayside?  Because, when we make it to our ship, we’ll be coming around to the Dayside of one hell of a long night."
"The Dayside?  I like that."
Bending his head, Jak sealed the christening with a lingering kiss.  But before the kiss could become more than a touch of lips and taste of warm tongue, they were interrupted by the sound of voices.  
"Did you hear that?" he whispered.
Tessa raised her head from Jak’s shoulder.  He froze in the darkness, his ears straining to catch the sound. 
"There, I heard it again," he said.  "I think it’s coming from the other side of the dune."
It came once more, a faint cry, almost lost in the whispering of wind over sand.  He couldn’t make out the words or recognize the voice, but he was sure the sound had come from a human throat.  
"It sounds like someone calling for help," Tessa said.
They were far into the Waste, days from the nearest village, and well beyond the point where any sane person would choose to roam.  Yet the sound was unmistakable.  They turned and crawled up the dune toward the voices.  The dry crust of sand tended to give way beneath their feet, and Jak had to grab the Tessa’s arm to keep her from sliding down.  As they neared the crest, the words became louder.
"Stay away from the claws!"
"I’m trying," a second voice said.
It was a woman’s voice, and she spoke with the tight, desperate tone of someone at her wit’s end.  There was no one in sight, but the speakers couldn’t be more than a few meters ahead, just over the crest of the dune.  He strained to hear more.
"Climb!" the first voice urged.
It sounded like a man or maybe a boy.  With the crust breaking under their hands and sand showering down on them, they crept closer.  Together they crested the dune and peered over the top.
The far side of the dune was a steep drop-off.  Looking down, Jak saw two people clinging to a small ledge of black stone about three meters below.  A man and a woman, trapped there by an enraged moki on the ground beneath them.  The woman pressed back against the side of the dune while the man fended off the moki with his knife.  The woman looked up, and Jak recognized Kamura frightened face.
"Help us, please!"
What could he do?  The moki was out of range of their remaining blaster.  If he tossed the weapon down, they’d more than likely drop it while trying to keep away from slashing claws and teeth.  They could probably climb up the rest of the way to the crest if that lizard weren’t ready to drag them back down.  If he could get closer, get Kamura and Toko out of the way, he’d have room to stand on the ledge and use the blaster.
"I’m going down there," he told Tessa.  "Be ready to help Kamura up."
He could see the moki, a writhing shadow in the dim light of Liss.  It was about five meters long and a meter around at its thickest.  Snarling, it gave Jak a good view of a mouthful of white fangs in a long narrow head.  The moki swiped the long claws on its first pair of legs at Toko, while the other two pair churned up the sand as it tried to scramble up to the ledge to reach them.  
Now, he thought, while the moki’s attention was on Toko and before it was in position to strike.  He swung his feet over the edge of the dune.
"No, Jak!  Please, don’t!" Tessa begged.
"I can’t just leave them down there."
"It’s only a mobbie and a Terran.  They mean nothing to us."
He couldn’t blame Tessa for not wanting to risk rescuing Kamura and Toko.  The life she’d lived left no room for altruism.  Once they were off world, he promised himself, he’d see that she had a chance to live a very different kind of life.   
"I’ll be fine.  Just watch for Kamura.  Toko can climb, but Kamura may need help."
Tucking their remaining blaster in the waist of his pants, he lowered himself over the side of the dune.  He felt Tessa’s fingers grip his hair, and then he slid out of her grasp, and started down.  It was only about three meters to the small ledge where the two crouched, but the moki raged on the ground only another six or eight meters below that.  There wasn’t room enough for three of them to stand on the slippery looking black stone.  Hearing him coming, Kamura looked up.
Clinging to the scant footholds on the face of the dune, Jak reached for her.  "Give me your hand!"
"Go!" Toko urged her.  "Go, now!"
Jak felt the sand under him start to shift.  He couldn’t wait any longer.  Kamura screamed as he got a good grip on her long hair and hauled her up off the ledge.  He shifted his grip to her arm, and then to the back of her tunic, but there was no purchase for her feet, and she started to slide back down.
With a grunt of effort, Jak got one hand under her firm rear end and gave her a hard shove up the side of the dune.  It was enough of a push to propel her up until she hung half way over the edge above them, and he heard Tessa curse as she pulled the girl to relative safety.  Jak dropped down next to Toko.
"Go!" he said as he drew the blaster.
Toko gave him a quick, sideways look and scrambled up the dune.  Jak shielded his eyes from the sand that sprayed down on him.  With a hissing snarl, the moki sprang at the ledge.  It hung by its front legs, the claws scoring deep scratches in the black rock.  Jak fired straight into the mouthful of fangs that were ready to take off his arm.  The moki screamed, a hoarse sound like the scream of a man.  It lunged forward again.  This time, Jak fired at the neck.  He’d hunted enough moki to know they were tough to kill.  The only way to be sure it was dead was to sever the spinal cord.  It lunged again, this time surging all the way onto the ledge.  With those claws, there was nothing to stop it from climbing up to Tessa.  No way was that going to happen!  With a snarl, Jak threw himself on the lizard.
He landed hard on a coil of steely muscles covered by dry, warm scales.  The moki hissed and writhed under him.  He felt the stone of the ledge wobble.  He fired at the neck again, but the narrow head whipped around and teeth sank into his forearm.  Jak yelled as he felt the hot burn of poisoned fangs pierce his arm.  Then the stone under them broke free of the sand, and he and the moki went sledding down the steep side of the dune.  Twisting, they tumbled onto the rocky ground below.  Jak landed on the top with the slab of stone between him and the moki.  His arm on fire from the moki’s bite, Jak got the blaster against the thrashing neck and pulled the trigger over and over until the charge died with a stuttering whine.  With a final shudder, the moki collapsed.  
He’d nearly decapitated it; the head remained attached only by a few centimeters of skin and sinew.  The smell of charred meat was everywhere.  With a grunt of effort, Jak staggered to his feet.  Nauseating waves of pain ran up his arm.  He knew that the moki’s poison was supposed to be fatal, but it would be fatal to him?  At least everyone else seemed to have avoided both fangs and claws.  For that, he was grateful.  
With a shower of sand and small stones, the other three scrambled back down the steep side of the dune.  Jak was nearly knocked over again as Tessa grabbed him.  Her small fist slammed repeatedly into his chest.
"Don’t.  You.  Ever.  Do.  That.  Again!"
Ignoring the pain from the moki bite, Jak pulled her into his arms.  "Hush, it’s alright.  I’m okay," he lied.  
Well, maybe it wasn’t a lie.  He wiped away the tear tracks on her dirty face.  The strangeness within him had helped him heal from deadly wounds before now.  Could it deal with a moki bite?  He felt weak and ill, and his arm hurt like hell, but he hoped he wasn’t going to die.
For a moment, Jak closed his eyes.  It seemed that he could feel that alien something within him more now that he knew what to look for.  It was as if whatever had tried to invade his body had left a piece of itself when it withdrew.  When it ran, he amended.  The thing, the strangeness, the phage, seemed harmless, maybe even helpful.  But each time he called upon it to drag him back from certain death, it grew stronger.  Would there come a day when he once again had to fight for the right to control his own body?
Shaking off worries, he let go of Tessa and turned to see that Toko had cut open one of the big veins in the moki’s neck, just below the blaster burn, and was lapping the pinkish blood that flowed from the wound.  Kamura might find the sight sickening, but Toko was right to make good use of the remains.  But there was more to be had than a little blood.  
"Move over," he told Toko as he got a grip on the black slab of stone.  Toko glared at him but moved aside when he realized what Jak meant to do.  It took two tries, but Jak was able to flip the slab over, exposing the moki’s body.  Using his knife, he made a deep slit down the soft underbelly, and the tender flesh pulled away from the bone easily. 
He cut a hunk for Tessa and handed it to her, then cut more for Toko and Kamura and himself.  The four of them crouched around the carcass like predators around their kill.  Chewing his own portion, Jak noticed that Kamura was just holding hers.  Now what?
She noticed him looking at her.  "Aren’t we going to cook it?"
"With what?" he asked, still chewing.  Toko had already finished his first helping and started on a second.  Tessa ate hungrily, too.
"With. . . with. . ."  At a loss, she looked around.  There was nothing to burn, just sand and rock and more sand.
"Eat," Toko ordered her.  "We might not find more."
To Jak’s surprise, the Terran did as Toko said.  With a shrug, she nibbled daintily at her share of the moki while the rest of them ate quickly, like the hungry animals they were.  
"What happened to your face?" Kamura asked.  "I hardly recognize you."
"Never mind my face," Jak said.  He wasn’t about to try to explain the strangeness to this girl.  "How did you two wind up here?"  
Kamura gave him a long, measuring stare but let the subject drop.
"We went over the side as soon as we heard blaster fire," Toko said.
"It was what you said to do," Kamura added, as if she feared being accused of cowardice because they hadn’t stayed for the fight.
"You did good," Jak told them.  He gave them a brief outline of what had happened aboard the barge as he cut more strips of moki. 
"Mice is dead, yes?"
Jak shook his head.  "I don’t know.  I’m pretty sure Kishee’s dead."  He remembered seeing the mobbie boy stick his knife into the girl’s back.  "But I didn’t see what happened to Mice.  And I didn’t see what happened to Bolon."  No way was he telling them that he could sense that Bolon was still alive.
Jak wrapped the meat he’d cut in a piece of the hide.  The carcass would soon rot in the heat of the day, but if they covered some of the meat in the sand, it might still be fit to eat tomorrow. 
"How did you and Tessa survive?" Kamura asked.  "When we were hiding on the shore, we saw men on the ship cutting the ropes that tied it to the barge.  It was hard to tell in all the smoke, but we think they got away.  We looked for you, but all we found were the corpses of two of Bolon’s men and burned debris from the barge.  We thought you’d both died."
"It was a near thing," Jak admitted.  He’d cut and wrapped six more strips of meat.  It would have to be enough.  The sun would be up soon.  "We went into river during the fighting.  I was hurt, but Tessa got me out of the water and stayed with me until I could get moving again."
He saw Tessa glance at him, warning in her blue eyes.  No need for that; there was no way he was going to tell Toko and the Terran anything more.  Nor that he had healed what should have been a fatal wound.  It was none of their business.
Chapter 28:  Kamura 
Kamura chewed greedily.  She’d never imagined herself eating raw lizard—let alone enjoying it.  She was so hungry that the raw moki tasted better than any delicacy served at a state dinner.  She only wished she had some water to go with it.  She sighed.  Thoughts of water had filled her imagination since shortly after they’d left the riverbank.  
Just one glass, she thought longingly, just a glass filled to the brim with clean, ice-cold water.  Her throat worked as she swallowed.  She thought of all the crystal goblets full of water that she’d left sitting untouched on the table and swore she’d never waste that abundance again.  
She also wanted a bath, a long soak in a steaming tub with plenty of lavender-scented bath salts.  Maybe she’d have a glass of water while she had her bath, cold water with ice cubes tinkling.  Her eyes closed, but Jak’s voice recalled her to the dry and dirty present.
"So you just started walking across the Waste because she wanted you to?" he asked Toko.  He sounded amazed that they would even consider such a trek, let alone that Kamura would make it this far into the desert with nobody but Toko to help her.  But she had a destination and now, more than ever, she was determined to reach it.
"We must reach Tekena," Kamura said.  She had good reason for doing what she did, and it was not Jak’s place to question her.  Especially not if what she suspected about him was true.  "We must be there before it’s time for the Prime to Join with the God Core." 
"Yeah.  Yeah," Jak said.  "We’ve all heard that before.  Shelter first.  Then you can tell us about your important mission—again."
She knew Jak and Tessa thought her a fanatic, but that was only because they didn’t understand the danger.  Crime lords and moki were nothing compared to the Selok omniphage.  If one of those creatures connected with the God Core, in a generation it could take over every newborn on Shadriss.  And then there would be no stopping it.  Still, she had no desire to spend a day in the open.  The moon had set while they ate.  Already, the sky was tinted gray with coming dawn.
Pointing his chin to the side of the dune, Jak said, "Up there, where the slab was, that looks like it could be a cave, or at least a hole big enough to give us some shade.  I’m going to check it out."  
He stood and started up.  Kamura watched him step over the fallen slab, and the face of it caught her eye.  This had been the buried side.  Hidden no longer, the slab showed faint lines, squiggles, and dots spiraling outward from a central symbol.  It was one of the alien artifacts, and it was bigger than any she’d ever seen before.  Granted, there were larger artifacts in the Black Palace but those never left the royal family’s grasp.  This was an important find!
"Selok omniphage work," she said in wonder.  "I must preserve this for my Family."
"Are you out of your tiny mind, girl?" Tessa demanded.  "Do you plan on strapping the thing to your back and carrying it to Tekena?"
Kamura looked down at her, managing an implied ‘of course not, you idiot’ in the tilt of her head.  "I am a Recorder," she said.  "All I need do is to look at this artifact in a good light."
Toko ignored them both to climb after Jak.  Kamura felt a pang of anxiety as she watched him go.  She shook her head, angry with herself.  She was a Recorder!  Well trained, on an important mission for Family Mobutu.  When had she become so concerned about this man?  This boy?  Granted, she knew his secret now, but that should only add to her determination to reach Tekena.  It shouldn’t make her feel as if she had to have him in her sight at every moment.
Chapter 29:  Jak
The slab had fallen away to reveal a triangular hole.  It was almost impossible to see anything inside in the dim, gray light, but it smelled dry and disused.  Jak stretched one arm inside, trying to see how big the space might be.  He couldn’t touch the back, but on either side of the opening, he felt smooth stone.  He didn’t think this was a natural cave.  Kamura was going to be doing some serious Recording.  Jak pulled out and turned around so he could slide his right leg into the opening.  His foot hit the floor only a short way down.  Before he could check any further, Toko slithered past him.
"There’s plenty of room," the boy said.  "Everybody fits."
Well, that’s what he’d wanted to know.  And since Toko wasn’t screaming in agony, Jak was probably correct in his belief that the space was empty.  He turned to Tessa and Kamura.  
"Come on up.  We can spend the day in here."
Tessa came up first, and Jak helped her over the edge of the opening.  Kamura moved a little more slowly, but she made it up and inside on her own.  She moved to the rear of the space to sit next to Toko.  Tessa sat next to Jak who’d positioned himself near the opening.  Moki didn’t like to share their territory, so there probably wasn’t another one nearby, but other dangers lived in the desert, and someone had better keep an eye out for them.
The sun rose slowly, the pinkish morning light revealing the inside of the cave.  Only it wasn’t exactly a cave.
"More artifacts!" Kamura exclaimed.  The walls were shining black stuff, covered with the worms’ strange glyphs.  Chunks of it had fallen from the ceiling onto the floor.  She started to crawl further toward the back of the space.  Jak couldn’t see a far wall.
"Stay here," he said.  "You don’t know what’s back there."
"But these could be important.  I have to Record them."
Toko wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist and pulled her down beside him.  "Jak is right.  Stay here.  Could be dangers down there."
Although she peered into the interior of what had to be a ruined building, she didn’t try to move away.  But Jak thought that might be more because she wanted contact with Toko than because she believed there was any danger.  The sky continued to lighten with the rising of the sun.  The air was already uncomfortably warm.  It was a good thing they’d found shelter.  Jak stuffed the package of moki meat into the shadiest part of the room.  Sitting back against the wall next to Tessa, he reached for her hand.
"You’re bleeding," Tessa said, noticing his arm. 
Crap!  She’d noticed the bite. 
"Just a scratch from the rocks.  It’s nothing."  He refused to frighten her.
"It’s a moki bite, yes?" Toko said.
"No, it is not a moki bite.  I’d be dead by now if it was."
But Tessa had that anxious look on her face again.  She reached for his arm, and he twisted awkwardly to put it behind his back so she couldn’t see the bite.
Toko smiled his wicked smile and held out his own arm.  "I have a moki bite, and I’m not dead."
Startled, Jak looked at the boy’s arm.  He’d thought Toko lucky to avoid the teeth and claws while fending off the big lizard, but he’d been wrong.  There was a bite, two in fact, and deep claw marks on his left arm.  Or they should have been deep claw marks; already, they’d healed to red scars.
Shoving Tessa behind him, Jak rose and scrabbled for his knife.  It was the strangeness!  This boy had to be part of the thing that had attacked him, and Jak was going to kill him right now.
"Wait, Jak," Kamura said, "what are you doing?  He’s no danger to you or any of us."
Kamura knew, Jak thought, his eyes sliding to the girl.  The Terran had known all along about the strangeness.  Why hadn’t she said anything?  What game was she playing?  Glaring at the still grinning boy, Jak thought that believing Toko was no danger to them was like believing that banderri made nice pets.  But the boy didn’t seem to feel exactly like the creature that had tried to eat his soul.
"I can feel the other one," Toko told him, as he slouched bonelessly against the curved black wall, "and I can feel you, not-so-ugly Jak.  The thing in you is stronger now, but you’re separate, not part of the other, yes?  And you can feel me."
Earlier, he’d been too busy fighting the moki and then filling his belly to notice much of anything else.  But Jak realized he could feel Toko the way he felt Bolon, as a sense of presence, an impression of the mind inside the body.  This was new.  The strangeness in him was growing stronger every day.  But the former mobbie’s mind felt fully human, crafty, twisty, and ruthless, but all human.  There was none of the alien difference that he sensed in Bolon.
"Yeah," Jak admitted reluctantly, "I can feel your mind, and it’s creepy as hell.  I don’t want to, but I can."
He sat back down on a big chunk of worm crap, and Tessa settled beside him, her blue eyes enormous with fear for Jak.
"It’s a type of sentient bacteria," Kamura said.
"Bacteria, yeah," Jak said, "a phage."  That’s what Bolon had meant.
Kamura looked surprised that he knew the word.  Did she think he was an idiot?  Of course, she did.
"My Family calls it the Selok omniphage.  The hereditary rulers of Shadriss carry a dormant form," she glanced at Toko, "a mostly dormant form of the bacteria in their blood.  Apparently, just as you do."
So, the phage in him was dormant.  It could get worse?
"But you won’t rule Shadriss, yes?"
"Rule Shadriss?  No way!  Wouldn’t have it as a gift."
"Good, because it’s mine."
"Yours?" Tessa questioned.  
She had both hands tight around Jak’s right arm, above the moki bite, as if she would stop the flow of the poison.  Too late for that.  He’d seen hunters die of moki poison before.  It happened fast.
Wait a minute!  Belatedly, his brain caught up with what Kamura and Toko had said.  The hereditary rulers carried the phage in their blood.  Toko carried the phage.  And he thought Shadriss was his?  Toko thought that he was going to be the new Overlord?
Toko sneered, "You look like a fool with your mouth open, Jak no-clan."
"There’s no way you’re the next ruler of this dirt ball."
"He is the Prime," Kamura disagreed.
Tessa sputtered, "The Prime is in Tekena.  You’ve been telling us that yourself since we first had the misfortune to meet you!"
"Toko has the phage!  And he has the connector to the God Core.  It’s made of the black secretions, and it’s on the back of his neck where the priests of Nish installed it.  Toko is the real Luan n’Chall."
"If Toko is Luan n’Chall," Tessa mocked, "Jak must be his brother, Tain."
"Mice is Tain," Toko corrected, "but he doesn’t remember it."
"Sure," Jak said.  
"I told you, Mice was just a baby when our nurse took us away.  He only knows the pack.  Mice is all mobbie.  He never got to be Tain n’Chall."
"Toko is the Prime," Kamura insisted.  "Look for yourself."
How could a mobbie fake the Prime’s connector to the God Core?  Even in his short time on Shadriss, Jak had heard plenty of stories about the Prime—and the connector.  The tale was that the first Overlord had made, or maybe found, the God Core some five hundred years after the founding of the colony on Shadriss.  So, maybe there was something to the tales about her.  The Overlords had been undisputed rulers since the days of Lingyang n’Chall, hundreds of years longer than any other dynasty.  Jak had to wonder whether the first of the n’Chall line had been attacked by something similar to the creature that had tried to eat him.  Maybe Lingyang n’Chall had been able to retain enough knowledge from that encounter to use the alien technology.  
Jak sighed.  This was too complicated for him.  He could barely comprehend a mobbie Prime, and a mobbie Overlord was beyond all imagining.  He eyed the remaining two reeds of water as the others continued their pointless argument.  Maybe they’d all be better for a drink of water.  Jak pretended to drink, just as he’d done since they left the river, and then passed the reeds to Tessa.  She took a drink, and then looked at the mobbie.  Tessa shrugged and handed one reed across the boy to Kamura.  
"Uncle tried to kill me."  It was plain that even Toko himself considered that a sensible action.  "But I didn’t die.  Now, I’m going back, yes?  And he won’t like that.  I’ll make sure he won’t like that." 
"If you’re the Prime," Jak said, "then ‘Uncle’ is . . . ."
"The Regent Graff n’Chall," Kamura finished.  
"So, that’s why he wanted to kill you?  So you wouldn’t spot the ringer and warn Family Mobutu?"
"It’s worse than that," she said.  "I suspect that Graff n’Chall is a primary Selok omniphage host."
"What does that mean?" Jak asked.  "What does one of these Selok things want with Shadriss?  And it sure doesn’t sound as if it likes Toko."
"Uncle likes me," Toko said.  His free hand caressed the hilt of the knife tucked into his ragged, knee-length pants.  His other arm was still wrapped firmly around Kamura’s waist.  "He likes me dead.  He likes all my family dead.  He married my aunt before I was born, and he’s been killing n’Challs since then.  Now, only me and Mice are left.  And maybe just me."
"Jak, it wants the God Core," Kamura said.  "The previous Selok host bodies on this world were the creatures you call worms.  My Family has been able to decipher many of their glyphs, and we’ve learned that the device called the God Core is actually an enhancer.  On its own, a Selok can control from three to six bodies, depending on its strength.  With the device, a primary omniphage theoretically could control an entire world."
"It wants to take over everyone on Shadriss?" Tessa asked.
It couldn’t do that, Jak thought.  But he had better sense than to say it aloud.  The thing that had tried to eat him had been severely injured in the attempt.  Multiply that by the million or so adults living on Shadriss, and it was disaster for the Selok.
"Not everyone," Kamura told Tessa.  "It has trouble with adult minds."
Sure does, Jak thought.
"But it has no problem with infants and, embryos are perfect.  With the God Core, it could take over the body of every newborn on Shadriss."
"So, what’s it waiting for?" Jak asked, his lip curling in disgust.  The thing ate babies.  Still, he wanted to get away from the subject of the Selok taking over adult minds.
"Uncle has no connector," Toko answered.  "Can’t Join with the God Core without a connector."
"That’s true," Kamura said.  "We believe the Selok’s adult host bodies have no connector.  And it’s impossible to implant such a device in an adult human."  She glanced at Toko, as if asking his permission to reveal more information.  When he didn’t stop her, she went on, "Toko thinks there are two adult host bodies."  Jak knew there were.  "Both the adults are too old to have a connector implanted, but it does have one much younger host—the one it’s using in place of Toko, I mean Luan n’Chall."
"Toko is good.  You can call me that," the boy told her.
"And it was able to have a connector implanted in that host."
"How?" Jak asked.  "I mean, come on, even priests of Nish have got to notice that they already did it once."
"Yes, how?" Tessa asked.
"Uncle paid them," Toko said.  "Or killed a few.  Probably both."
"That would be enough?"  Jak had never had a high opinion of priests of any sort, but surely somebody would have complained.
"Yes," Toko asserted.  "Otherwise, there is no n’Chall Prime.  Chaos.  Revolution.  No more government credits for the temple.  So, they make a new Prime.  It’s another one of their ceremonies.  Big procession.  Go to the temple.  Get drowned.  Get a connector.  Only this time, they skip the procession, yes?"
"Get drowned?" Tessa exclaimed.
"In the n’Chall pool.  Just like the first Overlord," Toko said.
Kamura explained, "We think there’s a weakened form of the omniphage bacteria in the pool inside the temple of Nish.  If the phage can revive the child, he or she becomes the Prime.  Then, when the old Overlord dies, or when the child reaches the age of fifteen, the Prime is Joined to the God Core.  But the phage in Graff n’Chall and the false Prime is the same.  So when the false Prime is Joined, the Regent becomes the Overlord of Shadriss."
"And this God Core does what?" Tessa asked.
Toko shrugged.  "Who cares?  If Join, then I’m Overlord, and Uncle feeds the banderri."
"If Toko doesn’t reach Tekena in time for the ceremony of Joining, the Selok will become Overlord of Shadriss."
 "Not going to happen," Toko asserted.  "Get me to the God Core, Big Jak, and I will be Overlord."
But Tessa exclaimed, "That wasn’t the deal!  We let you get on the barge with us.  That was all we agreed to.  And as for you," she said looking over to Kamura, "we agreed to get your well bred ass to Tekena, nothing more."
"But we need your help," Kamura protested.
"Don’t be ridiculous," Tessa told her.  "You’d need an army to get that mobbie boy inside the Black Palace.  That’s even assuming that any of your silly story is true."
"You can sense the phage, Jak," Kamura insisted.  Her large, dark eyes focused on him, willing him to believe.  "And he has the connector.  Toko, show him."
Shrugging, Toko leaned forward.  Jak pushed aside the boy’s hair and looked at the back of his neck.  There, so out of place against brown skin and smooth muscle, was the gleaming black of the worms’ work.
 "Tessa," he whispered, "I think it’s real."
Chapter 30:  Kamura
"Of course, it’s real!" Kamura snapped.  She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the debris underneath her.  It was mostly pieces of the Selok’s extruded construction, or ‘worm crap’ as Jak called it.  A fall of the black stuff lay in curving chunks, as if a huge pipe or conduit had broken apart and fallen down the slope behind her.  As soon as there was a little more light, she’d start recording the inscriptions written on it.  Meanwhile, it made for lumpy seating.
She was also very aware that Toko still had his arm around her waist, and she didn’t quite know where to put her hands.  He was so different from the boys she’d met at the academy, so unpredictable, a feral child grown up.  She’d tried to imagine what his life as a mobbie chief must have been like, but her imagination failed her.  She knew only that she felt an unwelcome attraction to him, to the warm brown skin covering lean muscles, to the handsome, crafty face.  She had to stop this!  She already knew that Toko was contaminated by the Selok omniphage, and now she knew Jak was, too.  It could spread from them, endangering all of humanity.  
Her duty was clear.  Once they reached Tekena, once Toko and Jak were both in the same location as the God Core device, she would find a working com, and she would call in the strike.  Not all of Family Mobutu’s trading was done in safe, civilized ports.  Grandmother Mobutu had three traders, better described as warships, stationed nearby waiting for Kamura’s signal.  Tessa would die too, not because she was contaminated, but because the little Veloran was always at Jak’s side.  As for herself, she’d have an hour or so to leave the vicinity, to get far enough away to be safe.  But would she go?  After she’d murdered the three people who trusted her, who’d saved her life more than once, after she’d murdered them, would she even want to live?
"It’s real," Toko told Jak as the big man pulled him forward to examine the connector at the base of his skull. 
"It looks like the worm stuff," Jak agreed. 
Kamura found herself pulled between the two men, as if she were an awkward package that neither wanted to set aside.  The smell of unwashed bodies was enough to make her dizzy, but then she stank like everyone else.  She just wanted this to be over, to be in a safe place where she could have a bath and all the water she wanted to drink.
"Let me see," Tessa said as she crowded in, too, trying to get a look. 
Her fragile-feeling body pressed against Kamura, and Kamura again felt astonished that there could be so much determination and endurance is such a small form.  All three of them were nearly on top of her.  It was too much!  They were so alive and vital now, and they were going to be dead so soon.  They were too close.  Twisting, she slipped out of the tangle and scooted back, but the unstable debris shifted beneath her.  With a scream, she slid backward into the darkness.
"Kamura!" Toko called.
"Where are you?" Jak called.  "Are you hurt?"
Kamura found herself lying on her back with her feet up the slope from her head.  She hadn’t fallen far.  The light of the entrance gleamed about a dozen meters beyond her.  Out of breath, she lay still for a moment and closed her eyes.  If only she could open her eyes and wake up in her own room . . . .
"Kamura, can you hear us?" Toko called.  He sounded anxious.  
Kamura opened her eyes.  This was no dream.  
"I’m okay," she said.  
At least, she thought she was.  Nothing seemed to be broken.  She was just a little breathless, a little dizzy, and not at all happy.  With a grunt, she sat up.  Her right leg felt cool.  She touched it. 
"But my leg is wet."
"Wet?" Tessa called.  "Are you bleeding, girl."
"No," Kamura answered.  She sniffed the dampness.  "I think it’s water."
Chapter 31:  The Selok
"Shall we walk through it one more time, my lord?  It’s a lot for the boy to remember." 
Although its fingers caressed the hilt, the Selok resisted the urge to plunge his dagger into the well-rounded human who stood before it in the Overlord’s throne room.  Or what these animals thought was a throne room.  The Selok had long since recognized it as a breeding chamber.  If this ceremony went as it had planned, it would be such again.
Assessing the damage done by generations of humans, it knew it would take much work to restore the chamber.  The great bubble of gleaming black, some two hundred and fifty meters in diameter, had been partially filled to form a flat, circular floor across the bottom third of the lower chamber.  The laying chambers had been filled in, too, so that they formed a walkway around and above the central area.  Worse yet, they’d tiled the floor with glass tiles in a hideous mélange of different shades of blue that made it look like an enormous, round pool.  They’d hung lights from the dome, huge concoctions made up of chains of those silver beads that the rulers of Shadriss were so fond of; supposed to symbolize water, and utterly hideous.  It would strip all of that away and return the chamber to its pristine simplicity.
That was assuming that it could forestall the danger created by the bungling of the immature human personality developing in the Bolon body.  It had put all the selves in danger.  The Terran woman was still alive, and so was that creature called Jak.  
"My lord?"
Annoyed, the Selok turned its attention from the future to the present.  It couldn’t remember what this human standing before it called himself.  The family and clan names that were so important to them meant nothing to it.  Yet, it had tasked the man with managing the ceremony.  It needed him for a few days longer.  After that?  It might celebrate the Joining in its own way.
"Yes," the Regent answered, brushing at the irritating fall of silver beads that hung from its wide-brimmed hat, "let’s do it again."
"As you wish, my lord."  With a rustle of brocaded silk, the man bowed and turned to the waiting rows of priests.
This was a complete waste of time.  It had memorized the steps of the ceremony years ago, when it first had planned to access the God Core.  It had intended to connect the device directly to its current primary host.  It hadn’t realized at the time that it needed a host with the specialized connector embedded in its neck.  Then, even after forcing the priests of Nish to add a connector to the neck of its youngest self, it had been made to wait another four years before the priests would bring out the God Core.  Despite promises made to the High Priest, it vowed that the priesthood would be one of the first obstacles it removed from its path.  
Of course, the majority thought the young host was their Prime, the abomination Luan n’Chall.  But it had destroyed the last two bodies of that disgusting, crippled Selok years ago when it had ordered the Prime and his younger brother killed.  Briefly, it switched more of its attention to the child body on the throne.  Fortunately, its youngest self seemed undamaged by the failed attempt to take over an adult human.  Once this ceremony was over, it would have full access to the enhancer through that self.  
But everything had taken so much longer than it had anticipated.  From the first moment it had decided to take a human host body until now had been nearly two hundred years.  But there’d been little choice.  Condemned for stealing host bodies intended for another Selok, it had been reduced to a single self and forced out of the hive to die.  But it had been alive still when the human explorers found it.  
Even better, one of the females had been pregnant, and the Selok had found a new source of host bodies.  Once it had incorporated a reasonable number of human embryos into its meld and waited while they grew into adulthood, it had withdrawn from the original form and allowed it to die.  Unfortunately, humans were more fragile than the original Selok host bodies, and now it was down to only three.  One of those was damaged, and the other a child.  Still, after the Joining, it would have as many bodies as it chose, and then it would withdraw from the damaged host.  Withdrawing would be uncomfortable for the Selok, but not as traumatic as a sudden death of the body.
It stirred uneasily as it watched its youngest self, seated across the enormous room from the primary body on an overblown mass of gold that depicted all the gods and goddesses of Shadriss:  the Overlord’s throne.  Of late, the Selok had noted faint but disturbing stirrings of individuality in the Prime body.  Was it the result of contamination from the human called Jak, or was it the insidious spread of the human under mind?  In either case, it would have to keep a close watch on how the young body developed.  It did not want another fiasco like the Bolon body.
But the priests were in their places; rows of green robed priests of the Lady Ur surrounding the red robed priests of Nish who clustered close to the throne.  Smoothly, it flowed into the body of the false Prime and prepared to give the appropriate responses for the ritual.
Chapter 32:  Jak
Kamura had found a seep, a tiny spring.  The water trickled out of a fracture in the rock, maybe a pint an hour.  It was enough for each of them to drink deeply and to refill their reeds.  But that had been two days ago, and they were on the third night of their trek now. 
Jak led them slightly south of where he thought Tekena lay, hoping to strike one of the farming villages at the outskirts of the city.  Once among the farmers, they could buy or steal what they needed.  After that?  He shook his head and brushed his lank red hair out of his eyes.  It was too soon to think about what they’d do after that.  
Jak glanced up at the sky, taking their bearings.  He navigated by the stars and by the Twins, Liss and Leath.  Although not full yet, both moons were in the sky again and gave enough light to see the way.  But the double shadows were tricky on the uneven ground, and they all stumbled and fell more than once during the night.  With blind determination, they struggled on, scuffling through the smooth patches of sand between dunes, avoiding the occasional rock outcroppings.
Hunger was a painful knot in his gut, but the thirst was worse.  He’d drunk as much as he could before they left the seep, but that was days ago.  Still, he marched and helped the others where he could.  There was nothing else to do, nothing but lie down and die, and he was too stubborn for that.  Jak tried to stay close to Tessa, but he kept losing sight of her as his thoughts wandered in a daze of sweat and thirst.
. . . beach sand, hard under my bare feet . . . waves wash in and seaweed swirls around my ankles.  My father’s hand, warm in mine. . . .  Today is my birthday, and my wish is for a day at the beach with my Dad.  No Felix to steal my toys, no sisters to make fun of me, no mother’s anxious voice forever wrapping me in a tight coat of anxiety, just me and my Dad at the beach.
"Look, Dad, a rapilli shell," I say.  I pick up the long tube of dark blue-gray nacre striped with white and show it to him.  
"That’s a big one," he says.  "How many stripes does it have, Jak?"  
I count them carefully, proud of my new skill.  
"Four," I answer, "four stripes, so this shell is four years old, just like me."  
He smiles down at me.  "Time to eat son, let’s find . . . .
The voice faded, and Jak found himself on his face in the sand.  Not beach sand.  Desert sand.  The Waste on Shadriss, he realized, not the ocean beach on . . . on, on home.  It was his own memory, a memory of his father, of a very precious moment of his childhood.  So, why couldn’t he remember the name of the world?  
"Jak, get up!"
He shook his head and tried to see who was calling him.  Had his mother come to the beach after all?  No, that wasn’t his mother’s voice.
"Jak!"
He heard a woman cry out in pain, and he realized he was gripping her arm, hard.  He let go. 
"What?  Who?"
He shook his head again, trying to throw off the memory that weighed him down.  He was on face down on the sand.  Had he fallen or had he lain down? 
"Didn’t mean to hurt you," he mumbled.
"You haven’t done any permanent damage."
Tessa, the woman was Tessa.  How could he have forgotten, even for a moment?  Jak sat up and looked around.  The desert was empty, just him and Tessa alone among the dunes.  In the distance, he heard chirp of small lizards.
"Where are the others?"  
The others, Kamura and Toko, not his sisters, not his lying older brother.  The mobbie and the Terran girl, where were they?
 "They went ahead.  I stayed with you.  I couldn’t get you to wake up.  Toko sent Kamura back a while ago to say they’d found the river.  She brought water."
 "The river?  Water!"
"Yes, here.  Drink."
She handed him one of the reeds.  The strangeness wouldn’t let it hurt him.  He had to hope that they were still far enough from town for it to be safe for Tessa to drink.  Hand shaking, he sloshed a little of the water over the top and down his chest before he got it to his mouth.  Nothing had ever gone done more sweetly.  He drank half of what was in the reed and then made himself stop.
"There’s more," Tessa said.  "You don’t have to save it for me.  We aren’t far from the river now."
"More water later," Jak said.  "Drink too much now, and it’ll all come back up."
"You haven’t drunk any water since we left the seep, have you, Jak?"  She punched him on the arm, hard.  "You can’t keep doing this to yourself!  You take a shot from Bolon’s blaster, you get bitten by a moki, and now I find you haven’t been drinking your share of the water.  Not even your body can keep taking that kind of punishment."
"It’s over now," he said, wrapping his arms around her.  "Hush.  It’s over.  If we’re at the river, Tekena isn’t far away."
"Yes, the river.  The Lady Ur alone knows what sort of pollution is in it, but it’s water, and we have to drink."  She helped him to his feet.  "Think you can make it?"
"Sure.  Easy."  
He could go anywhere so long as Tessa was beside him.  He took a step forward and staggered, almost falling again.  Tessa drew her arm around his waist, and Jak leaned on her as they stumbled across the sand.  Soon he smelled the water, felt the touch of moisture on his skin, and tasted it in the air.  They quickened their steps until the two of them moved at a shambling run.
At last, they pushed through a stand of reeds and splashed into the cool shallows of the Ur.  Jak downed a few more gulps of water, and then stopped.  After so long a thirst, more than a handful or so would tie his insides in knots.  But he knelt in the shallows, too close to shore for banderri, and poured water over his head.  It wasn’t enough, so he lay down in the water on his back, splashing like a kid in a puddle, like the boy in his memory.  Tessa knelt beside him, laughing at him.  With a grin, he pulled her on top of him and splashed water onto her, too.
They were both laughing when he thought to look around for Kamura and Toko.  Muddy water dripping from his hair, he sat up, holding Tessa in his lap.  The double light of the Twin moons played strange tricks with the shadows, but Jak saw that they were in the no man’s land between the farmers' fields and the Waste.
"We’d better find those two," Jak said.
Together, they waded to the shore.  He felt stronger already.  Once again, his recovery time was a fraction of what it would have been for a normal man.  He glanced at Tessa.  How well had she come out of their ordeal? 
She was drawn, her delicate face marked by fatigue.  Her high cheekbones stood out sharply with deep hollows under them.  Yet overall, she seemed to have suffered no great harm.  Food and rest were what she needed—what they all needed.  Now that they were near a village, they’d soon have both.  They found Kamura and Toko crouched among the reeds nearby.  One of the small riverside villages lay just beyond them.  Jak dropped down until he was shoulder to shoulder with Toko, and Tessa knelt at his other side.

Chapter 33:  Tessa
Tessa knelt next to Jak, weary beyond belief.  Hungry, thirsty, ragged—she’d seen beggars better dressed than she was now—she only felt thankful that she and Jak were still alive.  They’d crossed the Waste!  Granted, it had been a narrow neck of desert where the Ur made a long loop before reaching Tekena, but it had still been four days of travel through the harshest terrain she’d ever encountered.
"See the big house at the end of the row, yes?"  Toko pointed to a hut larger than the others and set apart from the rest of the village.  "Headman’s house.  Bet you fifty credits."
"No takers," Jak answered.  "Look at the door." 
The door was a rusty red in the early morning sunlight; definitely the headman’s house.  Then it swung open, and the man himself appeared on the broad, cluttered porch.  He was dressed to work on the crops in short blue trousers and a gray tunic.  He was younger than Tessa would have expected, and so was the woman who came out after him.  After an affectionate kiss, he headed toward the fields, and the woman picked up a bucket and began ladling water from the rain barrel into it, evidently intending to water the garden that grew beside their house.  When she turned, Tessa saw that the woman was pregnant and very close to her time.
"She looks as though that baby could come at any moment," Tessa said.  "She shouldn’t be hauling heavy water buckets."
"Not my problem," Toko said.  "And easier to run away from her when we steal food."
"The fields aren’t that far away," Tessa pointed out.  "If she calls for help, we’ll have the whole village on us."
"So, we kill her."
Jak’s outraged growl dismissed that plan.  "No, we will not kill the pregnant woman."
"Toko," Kamura asked, "don’t you still have the credits that Jak gave you for arranging passage."
The boy’s hand went to one of the pockets of his tunic.  "My credits," he said.
Jak grabbed Toko by the scruff of his neck.
"No, wait!" Tessa said.  "I’ve got a better idea."  
She did not want Jak and Toko scuffling.  She had no doubt that Jak would win any such contest.  But it could get noisy, especially if Kamura felt compelled to aid Toko.  They were much too close to the village for that to be safe.  
"The woman is young and pregnant and probably feeling less than attractive.  I think I have something that will tempt her more than a few credits."
"We’re going to trade her one of your bracelets?" Jak asked, frowning.  He still had a firm grip on Toko’s neck.
"Just one," Tessa said.  "The smallest and plainest.  More would only make her suspicious of us.  And it will just be Kamura and me.  You two stay here."
"No, I’m going with you."
"No, you’ll stay here with Toko.  Look at yourselves!  The pair of you are enough to make a moki panic, let alone a simple farmer’s wife."  Both men were ragged, Jak dressed only in pants and soft boots, Toko barefoot and in his knee length trousers and ragged tunic.  And Tessa had a use for that tunic.  "Kamura, do you still have your comb?"
"Yes, in here."  She patted the pocket of her trousers.
"Good.  We’ll clean up.  I’ll be a poor farmer’s wife, and you’ll be my helper boy.  Just remember, go along with what I tell you, and keep your mouth shut."
It wasn’t as easy as that, of course.  Jak had argued against staying behind.  To Tessa’s surprise, so had Toko.  But she’d ignored them both as she used Kamura’s comb and water from the river to do her best to make herself and Kamura presentable.  They’d taken Toko’s tunic and, with the sleeves and bottom tied in knots, had turned it inside out to create a makeshift bag for Kamura to carry.  They’d left the two half-naked men to circle through the reeds to the side of the village nearer to Tekena while they approached the headman’s house via the main footpath.
Before they left, Tessa had looked through the bracelets in her sash.  She’d chosen the smallest and plainest she had; a narrow band of gold set with a single green stone.  It was the first gift she’d ever received from a client.  He’d been an older man, not very tall, with graying hair and the paunch of a successful merchant.  The sex had been simple and quick, and he’d spent most of their time together talking about his daughter.  It had never occurred to him that Tessa and his daughter were nearly the same age.  She sighed.  Or, perhaps it had.  Well, that was her old life.  It was only fitting that his gift should help finance the new life that she hoped to have.
"I’m glad you came up with this idea," Kamura said.  "I was afraid Jak was going to hurt Toko."  
"You seem to have become quite fond of that young man," Tessa said.  "Are you planning to become Consort to the Overlord, like you cousin or aunt or whatever she was?"
Kamura was walking behind her, so she couldn’t see the girl’s face, but she heard the note of sick protest in her voice.
"No, never!"
Never, Tessa thought?  She was sure Kamura was more than half in love with Toko.  At the very least, she was in the full throes of a schoolgirl crush.  It was the quintessential good girl meets bad boy romance.  So, why then the horrified protest?  But they were nearly at the headman’s house.  There was no time to question her further.
"Keep up, boy," Tessa called.  "We still have a long way to go before we reach Tekena."
Obligingly, Kamura closed the gap between them just as the headman’s wife looked up from filling yet another bucket of water for the garden.
"Good morning, mistress," Tessa said to her, smiling.  
She’d often been told that she had a charming smile.  She only hoped this woman would agree.
"Good morning," the woman replied.  
She paused to wipe her arm across her forehead.
"That looks like hot work."
"It is.  And it makes my back ache.  And my feet."
Tessa made a sympathetic face.  She knew she looked sincere, sweet, and helpful.  She’d practiced the expression often enough in front of her mirror.
"Why don’t you rest for a bit and let Sinjay here do that.  I’d be happy to lend him to you for an hour or so in return for a loaf of bread to see us through until we reach Tekena."
The woman looked at Kamura and then down to the bucket at her swollen feet.  "All right," she said, sighing.  "We have enough bread to spare a bit for you and your boy."
"Thank you so much, mistress," Tessa said.  "You’re very generous."  She turned to Kamura.  "You, boy, get that garden watered."
Meekly, Kamura took over the chore of watering the garden.  The woman waddled toward the porch at the front of the house.  Long, backless benches flanked the doorway, and stacks of mismatched baskets and bowls were scattered across the floor.  A large urn of drinking water stood at the far end with a small shelf containing clay cups above it.
"Let me help you, mistress," Tessa urged, taking the woman’s arm.  
She walked the headman’s wife to one of the wooden benches.  She was no taller than Tessa, but nearly twice as wide with her pregnancy, and her feet were grotesquely swollen.  
"Here, sit down while I find something for you put your poor feet up on."
With a sigh, the woman dropped heavily to the bench.  Finding an empty basket among the clutter on the porch, she turned it over to serve as a footrest.  The woman groaned as Tessa lifted her legs onto the footrest.  
"Thank you.  You’re a blessing from Lady Ur," she said.  "You’ll find drinking water in the jar over there."  She pointed to the large clay ewer, nearly as tall as Tessa herself.  "There are cups above it."
"I’ll pour some for you, mistress.  And, if you don’t mind, I’ll give the boy a drink now.  It will help him keep his mind on his work."
"Do as you like, just so he finishes watering the garden before my husband comes back for lunch.  He’s a good, hardworking man, but not a generous one."
Smiling, Tessa filled a cup for the woman and another for Kamura.  She took the woman’s to her first and then went around the side of the house to where Kamura stood looking at the water bucket.
"Get busy, Kamura," Tessa hissed as she handed her the cup.  "Some of those people in the fields can see you!"
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Via demanded in a whisper.
Tessa stood with her mouth open as Kamura drank, realizing that Kamura had no idea how to do even something as simple as water the garden.
"Just keep filling that bucket and pouring the water over the plants.  Do your best to wet down anything that’s green."
Turning, she hurried back to the headman’s wife.
"Are you comfortable, mistress?"
"Yes, but I think my time will be very soon.  And take some water for yourself; you must be thirsty, too."
"You’re very kind, mistress," Tessa said.  
The woman was right; she could have the child at any moment.  She only hoped the baby would wait until they were well on their way to Tekena.  She went to the urn and drew a cup of water for herself.  As she did so, she slipped the chosen bracelet into her hand.  Tessa returned and sat on the porch at the woman’s feet.  As she did so, she let the bracelet drop.  There was a quick flash of gold, and then her hand covered it and she tucked it into her tunic.
"What was that?" the woman asked.
"Oh, just a bauble I plan to sell in Tekena."
"It’s a bracelet."
"Yes.  I had it from my grandmother.  I’m going to stay with my sister, but I can’t show up empty handed, not with that great tall boy in tow, and I don’t have any credits."  
All lies, but it made a pretty story, one the woman would enjoy hearing.
"May I see it?"
"It’s nothing much, really.  You must have many jewels that are better."  She held out the little bracelet.  "But it is real gold and, see, it has a green stone, sacred to Lady Ur.  Grandmother swore it helped her through childbirth, for all six of her children."
She held out the little bracelet to the woman who took it with a look of longing on her face.
"Try it on, mistress.  Maybe some of Lady Ur’s blessings will come to you."
The woman slipped the bracelet on her wrist and admired the play of green and gold.
"It’s true that your sister will be happier to see you with something in your hands, but you won’t do well with the traders in Tekena.  There are so many people in the city for the ceremony that the merchants are charging three times what they normally do.  Not that we farm folk see any of it."
"I must do what I can."
"You might be able to do better than what the traders will give you."
"How is that, mistress?"
"The few credits the merchants will give you for this won’t buy much in Tekena, not with half the world there for the Joining.  But we’ve had a good year, my husband and I, and I could make you a better trade if you wanted to take it in food and water."
Yes!  But, still, Tessa pretended to be reluctant.
"I only have the one boy to carry things," she said.  "He couldn’t manage a load of flour or tiff.  It would have to be already baked bread, maybe a little meat."
"I have six loaves of good bread baked this morning.  You can have three for the bracelet, as well as two jars of clean drinking water."
In the end, Tessa settled for four loaves of bread, three jars of water, and a sack of dried fish.  She was well pleased with her trading as she and Kamura continued along the footpath, Kamura carrying their booty in the bag they’d improvised out of Toko’s tunic.
Chapter 34:  Kamura
She hated gardening, that’s what Kamura had learned from this morning’s experience, hated it with a passion.  Dirt turning to mud as she lugged heavy buckets full of water from plant to plant, eyes itching, nose dripping, hands blistering; she swore she’d never do it again.  As far as she was concerned, gardening was only slightly more pleasant than crossing the Waste on foot. 
"More bread?" Jak asked, holding a chunk out to Tessa.
The Veloran shook her head.  "I’m full.  You eat it, Jak.  You’re twice as big as any one of us.  You need more food."
So like Jak, always looking out for Tessa before himself.  She hadn’t noticed Toko offering her anything more to eat.  Not that she wanted it.  She was quite full, thank you.  Kamura downed a final bite of bread and fish.  Maybe having a full stomach was worth the misery of gardening.  She wiped her hands on her trousers and burped lightly.  
Leaning back on a convenient rock, she looked down the slope toward the city of Tekena.  They’d stopped atop a small hill and settled into a shady place among a stand of saltbush to enjoy their picnic.  The city was maybe a kilometer below them.  Tents surrounded Tekena where those who couldn’t obtain lodgings camped outside of town, and still more people approached.  The straggling lines of visitors streamed together into a sea of people descending on the city.  The low buildings with adobe walls looked much like Namdrik, but the Black Palace rising behind them said that this place was their goal.  It didn’t really look like a palace, Kamura thought; more like a bubbling, twisting pile of, well, worm crap.  It was an ugly heap, gleaming with menace, the place she was about to destroy along with everyone there, including the people she’d come to care about.  She felt lower than a worm herself.  But the others were talking to her.  Reluctantly, she turned to face them.
"So, there you are," Jak told her, "Tekena, or close enough."
"Definitely close enough," Tessa agreed.  "And we’re done.  We’ve delivered you, as required.  Now we’ll see if we can find a barge or, better yet, an aircar making a return trip to Namdrik."
"No!" Kamura protested.  They couldn’t split up now.  She might never find Jak again, and she couldn’t let him slip away, not now that she was certain he carried the phage.  "The agreement was to take me all the way to the city.  We’re still at least two kilometers from Tekena."
"What?  You need your hand held the whole way?" Jak asked.
Kamura sighed.  "I need more than that.  We need more.  You know that."  
She looked over at Toko who gazed back at her from slanted, clever eyes.  They’d made their plans earlier, while still in the desert.  He was going to let her do the talking.  After all, Toko wasn’t exactly stellar at diplomacy; he tended to prefer to persuade at the point of a knife.  That wouldn’t get them far with Jak and Tessa.
"We need for Jak to kill Bolon," she began.  She held up her hand to forestall protests.  "Jak, I know you’re not a killer for hire, but Bolon isn’t a man.  He’s one-third of an extremely dangerous alien.  I hope—Toko and I hope—that destroying one of the Selok’s host bodies will disrupt the phage enough to give Toko a chance to take the God Core from the false Prime."
"Even if I agreed to do that, which I’m not, how am I supposed to find Bolan?" Jak asked.  "It’s not like there’s going to be a sign saying, ‘This way to the bad guy.’"
"He finds you," Toko said.  "You can sense him.  He can sense you.  Just get close, and he’ll come looking for you.  No problem."
Jak snorted.  "No problem."
But Kamura and Toko thought it was true, assuming being able to sense other phages really did go both ways.  Graff n’Chall and the false Prime were locked into the ongoing ceremony of the Joining.  If the Selok noticed Jak, it could only send the Bolan host body after him.  
"Oh, and I suppose Toko has been invited to the ceremony so he can stand conveniently close by when the High Priest brings out the God Core," Tessa said, scowling.  
Kamura had known the Veloran wouldn’t like putting Jak at risk.  If Tessa knew what she really planned, Kamura was sure she’d find the other woman’s knife in her heart.  She was thankful that Toko decided to help her out.  It gave her a moment to get her face and voice under control.
"We go in as priests of Nish," Toko said, "me and Kamura.  I take the God Core, and Kamura Records the Joining.  All done.  Nothing anybody can do about it."
Tessa snorted.  "You make it sound so simple and easy."
"It is simple," Kamura said.  "It’s just not easy."
"No," Tessa told them.  "We won’t do it.  You’re at Tekena, and we’re getting out of here."
"Be hard to leave Shadriss," Toko said.  "If Uncle becomes Overlord, you won’t get far."  He looked at Jak.  "If I’m Overlord, you get free passage off Shadriss.  Both of you.  A nice, safe trip, yes?  Aircar to the port at Namdrik and passage—first-class—on the next passenger ship."
"And I can offer you a lucrative contract to start your new trading company," Kamura added.  
She pushed away the nausea and shame she felt.  If they accepted her offer, they’d never live to start their company.
"No," Tessa said.
"Yes," Jak said at the same time.
Tessa glared at him.
"Yes," Jak repeated, looking at Tessa.  "Safe passage off Shadriss, a trading contract, our own ship; it’s everything you ever wanted.  Everything we ever wanted."
"I know the details of the ceremony of Joining," Kamura said, speaking so quickly that she stumbled over her words, "and Toko knows of a few of the hidden passages.  He thinks he can get us inside the Black Palace."
"My father showed me," Toko said.  "Before Uncle killed him."
"Oh, right.  Now we’re supposed to think you know your way around the palace after spending half your life as a mobbie?"
"Not half," Toko said.  "Four years, yes?  And I don’t know all.  I just know one, maybe two ways that nobody else knows.  But that’s enough.  We get inside.  Jak kills Bolon.  Uncle gets a big headache.  I take the God Core."
"We know that the Selok created the Black Palace from the secretions of their host bodies," Kamura said.
"Worm crap," Jak interrupted.
Kamura ignored the comment.  "When humans came, they dug out the walls between some of the tunnels to make larger rooms.  Others they just sealed off.  Toko knows one of those passages that will take us well inside the palace.  From there, we’ll need to make our way to the throne room.  It’s where they’ll hold the ceremony."
"Even if you can get in," Tessa said, "you’ll never get near the Prime."
"The false Prime will be surrounded by priests," Kamura said.  "There will be an outer ring of priests of the Lady Ur and, inside that, priests of Nish."
"Red-robes," Jak said thoughtfully.
"Wearing gloves and black masks," Kamura said.
"It just might work," Jak said.  "If we’re really lucky."
"I still don’t like it."
"Tessa, you’re the one who said that life needed a little risk.  This will spice things up nicely."
Nauseated, Kamura looked away from them and back down at the city.
Chapter 35:  Jak
Tekena was a swirl of dust in the mouth, a blast of light in the eyes as sunlight reflected off the gleaming black of alien ruins.  And crowds.  The dozens of people they’d seen earlier this morning had swelled to hundreds and then to thousands.  There were too damn many people here.  Jak felt as if they were all touching him, all of them haggling, eating, gawking, moving, and bumping into him, brushing against him, pressing against his back.  His skin crawled as he tried to maintain some personal space.  
Worse yet, even among the many people flocking to celebrate the Joining, he drew attention.  He’d lost his vest when the barge burned, now clad only in torn gray pants, scruffy boots, and the cloth belt containing half of Tessa’s bracelets, he looked more brigand than festival goer.  
A woman backed into his chest.  Turning around, she looked up and gave a small scream.  The scar on his face might be gone, but he still had demon green eyes and demon red hair.  
"Yeah," Jak growled at her, "and I eat babies for breakfast."
With hastily averted eyes, she moved away and was lost in the mob.  He ignored the irritated look Tessa gave him.  He’d tied the hair back with a scrap torn from Tessa’s cloak, but that didn’t do much to make him presentable.  He glanced down at Toko who, barefoot, dressed in nothing but knee length pants, didn’t look much better.  Kamura was still using the boy’s tunic as a bag for what was left of their food and water.
"We need to get out of this mob," Jak said as yet another stranger bumped into his back and sent him staggering a step forward into Tessa. 
Tessa and Kamura might still pass as a poor farmer’s wife and her servant boy, if no one looked too closely.  But their clothes were ragged, too.  Tessa’s once white shift was stained in a multitude of colors, green from the reeds, black with soot, yellow and gray from the sand of the Waste and mud of the river, and it was torn up the left side nearly to her hip.  She’d tied the remains of her short blue cloak around her waist to hide the rip and as much of the skirt as she could, but she was still far from looking like the beautifully groomed courtesan he’d always known.  As for Kamura, she gave a perfect impression of a scruffy boy with no care for personal hygiene.
"I have a suite reserved in my name," Kamura said.  "We could go there."
Toko shook her arm.  "Wake up girl!  You told me what happened in Namdrik.  Jak says he killed n’Tau, but there’ll be somebody to take the Gambler’s place.  Count on it."
Beside him, Jak heard Tessa sigh.  He looked down at her weary face.  He wished more than anything that he could provide her with a clean room, a soft bed, and all the time she needed to recover from their trek through the desert.  But wishes would have to wait.
"We can camp outside of town," Jak said.  "Plenty of people are doing that.  We just need to buy food and water."
"And clothing," Tessa said.  "We need something less conspicuous to wear if we’re going to get inside the Black Palace."  She patted the belt around her waist.  "We can sell some of these bracelets for credits.  Even with prices tripled, it ought to be enough."
What she didn’t say was that ragged beggars trading gold bracelets would attract unwelcome curiosity.  But they all thought it, even Kamura.
"You still have credits," Kamura said, eyeing Toko, "from the money Jak gave you at the start of our trip.  Now is the time to use them."
Toko was silent, scowling.
"Toko!" Kamura commanded, "Give us those credits."
"My credits."
Jak was out of patience.  "And it’s my foot up your ass if you don’t hand them over," he said.  "Do you want us to help you or not?"
Beside him, Tessa leaned against his arm.  He could feel the fine tremor of fatigue running through her body.
Kamura held out her hand.  "Toko."
Reluctantly, the boy reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the small leather bag that Jak had given him—was it really only a few days ago?  It seemed like a lifetime.  Several lifetimes.
Toko slapped the bag into Kamura’s outstretched palm.  The brilliant smile she gave in return brought a flush to his face.  Jak was surprised that the kid had caved so easily.  He must be developing some serious feelings for Kamura.
"Kamura and I will buy clothes," Tessa said.  She turned to Jak and Toko.  "While you two find food and water and . . . the other things we discussed."
She meant the robes, the red robes and black masks and gloves of priests of Nish.  Easy enough, much easier than shopping for clothes.  Toko looked as relieved as Jak to be spared that task.  Mugging priests was much more their kind of job.
But that didn’t make Jak feel any easier about parting from Tessa.  He knew she was smart, and he trusted her to take care of herself in a city environment, but Kamura was another story.  She was so inexperienced, so . . . unfinished.  Jak was afraid the Terran girl would make a major mistake and bring Tessa down with her.
Still, he had his own work to do.  They headed toward the main temple of Nish, yet another pile of worm crap not far from the Black Palace.  Toko slipped through the crowd, and Jak shouldered his way after him through sheer size and determination.  They came to a halt at the edge of the open plaza in front of the temple.
"Not another damn ceremony," Jak said, eyeing the phalanxes of priests, each group organized according to some principle that totally escaped him.  Incense blew toward them in perfumed clouds that made Jak’s eyes water.  He glimpsed mobbies in the crowd, clever fingers busy.  Yeah, they were back in the city.
"Too many people here," Toko observed.  "We need to get a couple of them alone."
That was for sure.  Not only were the priests massed in squares of bright scarlet, each group carrying a statue of a different aspect of Nish the war god; the entire plaza was lined with crowds of worshipers throwing red-petaled flowers at the feet of the procession.  Trampling on the petals, the priests appeared to be wading through a lake of blood.  The crushed petals added their own scent to the mix of sweat, dust, and incense.
"Right.  And we need to make sure none of those fanatics watching the parade sees us."
They began edging their way back toward one of the many small streets that opened into the plaza.  He felt the crowd pressing against him, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, their thoughts buzzing, emotions lapping him like water.  This was new.  He’d been in crowds before, here on Shadriss, and he remembered trading trips with his father to cities far bigger than Tekena.  But today, the borders between himself and others seemed too thin.  If he focused his mind, he knew he’d be able to see their memories, see their lives like holos spread before him.  
Was this some new aspect of the strangeness?  The alien phage inside him seemed to grow stronger each time he came close to death.  Toko had said the Prime had to drown first, before the phage in the n’Chall pool could manifest.  Maybe that was it.  Coming close to death must give the thing room to grow.  Did that mean it would take over one day and leave him nothing but a passenger in what had been his body?  Or maybe less than that.  
Toko’s dry voice at his shoulder brought him back to the side street where they now stood looking for the flash of scarlet robes.
"You know, Big Jak, we have to kill them all," Toko said.  His voice was low, the statement casual.
Startled, Jak looked away from the two red-robes he’d been eyeing.  "Kill the priests?"
"No!  Has the sun scrambled your brain?  We have to kill all the hosts.  If we don’t, it just keeps breeding, yes?"
Jak made himself consider the idea.  As much as he hated killing, he was about to be forced to do more.  But the Selok had three hosts.  He knew that from the shared memories.  Killing Bolon and the Regent, he could do.  But could he kill the boy who was the puppet Prime?
"I can deal with the two adults," Jak said.  Toko would know which two he meant, and there was no need to broadcast names to listening ears.  "But the kid is just a kid."
Toko had no such caution.  "You’re sentimental, Jak.  That’s your trouble.  Get it straight.  There is no kid.  There is no Bolon and no Graff n’Chall; there’s only the Selok."
Only the Selok, one mind in three bodies.  Jak knew that, but he had a hard time really believing it, even after contact with that mind, even after almost becoming the fourth body in that meld.  
"One Selok, I get it."  He didn’t really, but he’d deal with that later.  He pointed with his chin at the two priests he’d spotted earlier.  "Look at those two.  Looks like they’re heading for that alley."
Sure enough, the two figures in red turned down a small side passage.  As one, Jak and Toko peeled off the wall and started sliding through the crowd.  Jak felt small fingers at his belt, and quickly slapped away the reaching hand.  The mobbie was gone before he could do more.
"You know, what this place needs is a way to get the farmers to accept mobbies into their clans."
It seemed crazy to him that the farmers, who needed children, refused these kids, who needed families. 
"Clan is everything, Big Jak.  You think you can fix that?"
"I can’t, but maybe you could."
Toko seemed startled by the idea.
But there was no time to talk about changes.  The two priests were just ahead of them, and no one else was around.  It was as perfect a set up as they were ever likely to get.  Jak glanced at Toko and nodded toward the priest on the right.  He went for the one on the left.  After the tension of the crowds, the actual work was over in moments with a carefully calculated punch behind the ear.  Next to him, Toko took a little more effort to down his priest.  Quickly, they stripped off masks, gloves, and robes.  Doing so disclosed two middle-aged men, one with long, gray hair, and the other bald as a stone.  Toko pulled out his knife and slid his hand under the chin of the bald priest, exposing the pale throat.
"Wait!  What are you doing?"
"Cutting his throat," Toko replied.  He looked surprised that Jak would even ask.
"Just tie them up.  No need to kill them."  Jak ripped the gray haired priests undertunic into strips and rolled the man over onto his back so he could tie his hands behind him.
"Dead priests mean no trouble."  
But the boy waited.
"Toko, you’re not a mobbie anymore.  Stop thinking like one."
"I’m not . . . ."
He sputtered to a halt.  Jak didn’t know if he was protesting no longer being part of a pack or being called on his failure to think like a Big One.  It didn’t matter.
"Look, you’re going to be ruler of this dirt ball, worm crap and all."  Okay, that was only true if a lot of unlikely events went right.  But think positive.  Think of Tessa safe and out of here.  "If you’re going to rule Shadriss, you need to think like an Overlord, not a bloodthirsty mobbie chief."
"They should fear the Overlord."
"No, Toko.  Your enemies should fear you, maybe; but your people should respect you.  Acting like your uncle isn’t going to earn you their respect."
"But these two will never know who took their robes."
"They’ll know if you win.  You’ll need a legend.  You’ll need a story.  How you act now will be part of it."
"Okay.  Okay.  Give me some of that."  
Jak watched as the boy took the remaining strips of cloth and tied up the other priest.  He was going to make a hell of an Overlord.  While Toko was busy with the priest, Jak gathered everything into a bundle and slung it over his shoulder.  
Chapter 36:  Jak
Jak took Tessa’s arm, drawing her close to him.  "He’s here.  Bolon’s here."
"You’re sure?"  Her white cape swirled around her shoulders as she turned her head, looking hard at the people around them.
"Oh, yeah."  There was no mistaking the feel of the Selok mind nearby, especially of that particular host body with its nasty mix of alien power and childlike temper.  "And he’s coming this way."
Today was the big day, the Joining.  Along with what seemed like everyone else in Tekena, they’d squeezed into the open arena at the entrance to the Black Palace.  Once, it had been a vast bubble chamber, but now the roof was open to the clear, bright sky.  Sunlight bounced off bright festival clothing, shining dark hair, and wreaths of red flowers.  The sound of a thousand voices was a roar that grated on Jak’s ears.  The smell of spicy food, perfume, sweat, and crushed flowers assaulted his nose and made his eyes water.  He’d never liked crowds and, now that the strangeness was growing stronger, it felt as if they were all trying to push inside his skin.
Gritting his teeth against the unseen pressure, Jak looked around for a better place to make his stand against Bolan.  They were close to the wall where a multitude of corridors led off from the floor of the chamber, each a different size and twisted in a slightly different direction.  It was an irregular edifice, a vast, organic arena, filled now to overflowing with people who’d come together to celebrate the Joining.
"We have to get out of this crowd," Jak muttered.  
Pulling Tessa after him, he moved toward the nearest corridor.  At least they attracted less attention now that they were dressed in their new festival clothes.  Jak thought he blended in well in his tan trousers and clean black tunic.  He still had Tessa’s belt of bracelets around his waist, and he had his knife down his right boot.  He’d abandoned the blaster in the Waste when the charge died.  It wouldn’t have done him any good today, anyway.  Everyone entering the Black Palace had been required to submit to a weapons search.  The guards hadn’t found his knife, but only because Tessa had distracted them with smiles and flirtatious laughter while they ‘searched’ her.  Unfortunately, the ban on energy weapons probably wouldn’t apply to Bolon.
Behind him, he felt Tessa’s hand clutching his shirt as he towed her toward the wall and the nearest passage out of the arena.  She wore a dress of turquoise blue cotton with a short white cape over it, the sort of outfit an ordinary famer’s wife might wear for an important occasion, but Tessa was too beautiful ever to pass as ordinary.  More than one pair of eyes followed her slender form as they moved through the mass of people here to celebrate the Joining.  Jak wanted to get away from the crowd to give himself room to fight, and he really wanted to find a safe place to stash Tessa while he took care of this ugly business.  But there was no safe place, not anywhere on Shadriss.  The best he could was to keep her close beside him.
He hoped that by now, Kamura and Toko were in place in the throne room.  If not, this was all for nothing.  His sense of Toko was weaker than his sense of the Selok, parent to the strangeness within him, but he was pretty sure the boy was now somewhere in the Black Palace.  Whether he was in a position to get his hands on the God Core was another matter.
"Is he still following?" Tessa asked.
Jak put his arm around her slender waist, pulling her close beside him.  There were fewer people here, and there was room to walk side by side.  They passed a woman in gold brocade who looked at Tessa with jealous eyes.  Jak glared at her, but she hardly noticed him.  Without the scar, his scowl just didn’t have the same effect, not even with demon colored hair and eyes.
"Yes.  He’s close now.  Really close.  Watch for an empty room."
Walking quickly, they passed deeper into the corridors of the Black Palace.  There were guards stationed along the way, dressed in n’Chall blue.  But most of their attention was on the big crowd in the arena.  One or two eyed Jak with suspicion, but smiles and giggles from Tessa convinced them that they were just looking for a little privacy.  
Penetrating further into the palace, they found a table laden with trays of empty dishes.  Tying her cloak around her waist as if it were an apron, Tessa took up one of the trays, and Jak followed with several more in his arms.  They continued walking as if they knew where they were going, always moving away from any people they saw.  The corridors grew narrower and more twisted, more obviously the work of the worms and not of men.  
They must have circled almost halfway around the arena by now.  Jak sensed that Toko was much nearer, and he felt the cold, eerie slide of the Selok’s thoughts at the edge of his mind.  Bolon was still just behind them, as if waiting for Jak to make his choice.  Or, more likely from what Jak knew of him, the crime lord was enjoying this stalking game.  Still, they had to be approaching the throne room.  He’d better find a place to fight soon.
Jak thought he could take Bolon.  He’d been surprised on the barge, surprised by the big man’s strength and savagery, but he was ready for him now.  So why were his hands sweating and his heart racing?  He could feel Bolon, moving fast, coming closer, and the crime lord was coming alone.  Jak and Toko had thought that would be Bolon’s choice, and they’d based their whole gamble on it.  The child mind’s hatred for Jak was deep and personal.  Jak had hurt him more than once, and he wouldn’t want to share what he was sure would be the destruction of his enemy.  The Selok over-mind wouldn’t have approved, but they were counting on it being too busy just now to pay much attention to this wayward host body.
Jak and Tessa walked steadily down the corridor, following whichever direction seemed to lead away from the crowd.  He was looking for a place with enough space to fight, and he found himself looking for a small room, even a closet or cupboard, where he could hide Tessa.  Of course, even if he found such a refuge, getting her to stay in it would probably be more than he could manage.  Maybe, if he could lock the door . . . .
"What about here, Jak?"
They’d wandered into what appeared to be a service corridor.  Through an open door, she’d spotted a large, almost empty room.  No one else was around.  As they stepped inside, a single, dim light came on high on the curved ceiling.  It revealed a round chamber about ten meters in diameter with a floor of cracked green tiles.  The walls and ceiling were the glossy black of the worms’ secretions and covered with their strange glyphs.  Jak had to look away from them; the writing seemed to pull at his mind, and he couldn’t afford to divide his attention, not with Bolon only steps behind them.
Broken furniture was stacked high around the walls, most of it looking as if it had been there gathering dust since the days of the Confederacy.  But the central space was clear, leaving plenty of room to maneuver.  They had only seconds.  Jak dropped his load of trays on the nearest table, and Tessa followed suit.
"Stay behind me," Jak told her.  His heart pounding, he knew they were out of time.  "When Bolon comes in, you go out."
"Jak, I—"
Her protest ended in a scream as Bolon slammed into them both.  The big man had moved so fast that Jak hadn’t even seen him coming.  All three of them crashed into a towering stack of furniture.  With a crack of breaking wood and the sound of ripping cloth, the whole mass avalanched down on top of them.  Frantic, coughing on the dust, Jak’s one goal was to keep Bolon away from Tessa.  He couldn’t see her, couldn’t feel her, didn’t know where she was in the mess.  But Bolon was right on top of him, his body feeling as strong and massive as a bull lamnan.  A huge fist smashed into the side of his head, and stars and lights flared behind his eyes.  Shaking off dizziness, Jak charged forward, pushing that hard body toward the center of the room, away from Tessa.
Bolon stumbled backward, mouth working, repeating the same words over and over.  Listening, Jak heard him saying, "Bad man.  Bad man."
Oh crap!  This was even worse than he’d anticipated.  His stomach roiled.  He had to remember that this was just one part of an alien and very dangerous creature, a part that he had to kill.  A foot slamming into this stomach helped to remind him that he wasn’t fighting a child, no matter what it sounded like.  
Bolon did have a blaster, but it was still tucked into his belt, with only the last centimeter of the handle showing above the soft folds of green cloth.  Touch brought their minds closer.  Bolon’s fists on his skin opened the host body’s thoughts, and Jak realized they’d been right; Bolon would save the blaster for the final moment.  He wanted to make this slow and painful.  He wanted to make it last, to savor Jak’s agony.
Jak ducked and rolled as Bolon remembered his knife.  It was a black blade with a serrated edge, nearly half a meter long.  In Bolon’s hand, it looked like a toy.  A second swipe nearly took the top off Jak’s head.  Jak pulled his own knife out of his boot.  It wasn’t as big as Bolon’s, but it would do the job.  He slashed and then danced back, drawing the bigger man to the center of the room where they’d have room to move.
Bolon as fast, unbelievably fast, especially for a man so big.  But Jak was faster; he had to be.  The fight was down and dirty, no rules, no honor.  Bolon lacked n’Tau’s skill with a knife, but he had fantastic speed and strength.  Jak managed a long, shallow cut near Bolon’s throat, but the big man ignored it.  Blood splattered on the green tiles, but even as Jak watched, the bleeding slowed, and the gash closed.  How could he kill someone who could heal like that?  How could he even hurt him?  And still Bolon pushed, driving Jak as no one else could.  
Jak jumped back, evading a sweeping slash that would have laid him open from neck to navel.  He crashed into another pile of stored furniture, adding to the mess.  Kicking out, trying to clear his way, he swept a mass of debris aside to reveal a small form lying pale and still, eyes vacant, back twisted, a broken doll.
"Tessa!"
Jak’s world went silent, frozen in a black void colder than the depths of space.  Bolon’s knife in his heart would not have been so cruel.  The loss cut so deep that he couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything.  Time slowed.  A drop of blood from the tip of Bolon’s knife floated slowly toward the floor.  The big man was still talking, but the words came to Jak through air as thick as syrup.  The image of Tessa’s broken body burned in his mind.  Bolon crashed into him, and he felt himself falling to the floor.  He didn’t care.  
Hands closed on his throat.  It didn’t matter.  Breath stopped, he felt himself struggling by reflex as Bolon’s weight crushed him.  It didn’t matter.  He heard the hateful voice still whispering its refrain, "Bad man.  Bad man."  That didn’t matter either.  Nothing mattered anymore.
Chapter 37:  Tessa
The suffocating crush of debris was swept off her body, and she sucked in air in a gasp.  Grinding pain in her arm when she tried to move it.  Was her arm broken?  Radiating pain in her lower back.  Her legs were numb; she couldn’t feel her feet.  She was aware of Jak and Bolon across the room from her, still fighting.  She wanted to get up.  She wanted very much to get up.  She would not lie here helpless!
Tessa inhaled harsh breaths that burned her throat.  Get up!  There!  Her arm moved.  It still hurt, but it moved.  So, not broken, just sprained, maybe even just bruised.  Feeling was coming back to her feet, a painful tingling that spread from her back down her legs.  She was just stunned, that was all.  Stunned.  She just needed to catch her breath.  A wave of heat passed through her, leaving sweat dripping down her face, pooling at the small of her back, behind her knees.  Get up!
Grunting with effort, Tessa rolled over onto her hands and knees, the green tiles cool under her palms.  The cape she’d tied around her waist tangled around her legs.  Impatiently, she pulled it off.  She saw bits of flaking gold leaf decorating the sleeve of her turquoise dress, and drops of red sparkling on the back of her hand.  Jak’s blood; with total certainty, she knew it was Jak’s blood.  
Opposite her, on the far side of the room, she saw Bolon on top of Jak, both hands clamped around Jak’s neck.  Red faced, choking, Jak struggled with the crime lord, but he seemed to fight only by reflex.  She could see that he was weakening.  He’d told her that the strangeness made him stronger than most, but what if it made the Selok’s bodies stronger, too?  And big as Jak was, Bolon was bigger.  What could she do?  She was no superwoman.  But she had to do something!  Desperately, she looked around for something she could use as a weapon.  She couldn’t stand by and watch the man she loved die.
They’d smashed tables in their fight, turned over chairs, left the room awash in broken furniture.  Next to her, she saw a big vase miraculously intact.  It was a huge, heavy thing, with a narrow neck and fat body, half as tall as Tessa herself.  Staggering to her feet, she reached it and wrapped her hands around the narrow neck.  So heavy!  But she had to move it.  She’d pulled Jak out of the river and well into the reeds along the bank.  She could lift this damn vase.  With an effort of will, she heaved, and it came up off the floor.  One step brought her closer to the men.  Two steps put her behind Bolon.  With a groan that was half scream, she swung the vase around and down on the back of Bolon’s head.
The vase smashed into a hundred shards.  Bolon’s head was deformed, ruined melon, dripping red, the skull caved in where she’d struck him.  He’d collapsed on top of Jak; Jak who was gasping for air, still breathing, still alive, and trying to push Bolon’s body off him.  Frantic to help him, Tessa grabbed the back of Bolon’s tunic and helped Jak roll him over so he could get out from under the big man.
As soon as he could move, Jak grabbed her, hugging her tight, dragging her down onto his lap.  "I thought you were dead!" he gasped.  "I thought you were dead!  I thought he’d killed you."
She felt him shaking.  He ran his hands over her as if he couldn’t believe that she was still alive.
"No, no I’m just bruised," she said, "but you’re going to squash me to a pudding if you don’t ease up."  She smiled, trying to lighten his desperate mood.
Tessa kept a wary eye on Bolon, who lay sprawled on his back.  As she watched, he shuddered, and the broad chest rose and fell.  Still breathing.  Still a danger to them.  Like Jak, she realized, Bolon could heal even a fatal wound.  As Jak eased his grip on her, she pushed away from him and rose to her feet.  The hilt of Bolon’s blaster poked out from under his sash.  Tessa bent to grab it and sighted down the barrel at the man, ready to make sure he would never come after them again.  There would be no recovery for him this time.  
Still on his knees, Jak’s hand on her wrist stopped her.
"No, Tessa.  Don’t."
"It has to be done, Jak."
Couldn’t he see that?
"But not by you.  Give me the blaster.  I’ll do it."
Tessa backed away a step.  Jak was red faced, gasping for air, and still trying to protect her.
"Jak, I’m not some hothouse flower."
"Tessa, please."
But they’d argued too long.  Tessa screamed and jumped back as Bolon lurched up, awake, aware, and reaching for her.  Jak tried to grab him, but he was still weak, and Bolon shoved him aside.  If Bolon got those big hands on her, she was a dead woman.  White faced, at point blank range, Tessa pulled the trigger.  The blaster spat a hot, blue-white beam of energy.  With a hissing sound of frying flesh, the bloody face, the big, bullet shaped head, the enraged eyes, all burned to a sizzling, blackened crisp.  The burnt pork odor of burned human meat filled the air.  The heavy body dropped, thudding on the tiles.
"There, regrow that," Tessa spat.  
Arms trembling, she lowered the blaster.  He was dead.  He was permanently and completely dead.  He would never hurt her again.  He would never hurt Jak.  She looked at the blaster in her hand.  She loved this weapon.  With a blaster in her hand, all that mattered was will and determination, and she had both.
But Jak was on his knees beside her, clutching his head, sweat dripping from his chin.  Had Bolon hurt him before she killed him?  
Throwing herself down beside him, she demanded, "Jak, are you okay?"
He rocked forward, putting his head on her shoulder, and groaning.  Frightened now, she tried to pull his head up to face her.
"Jak!  Jak!  Look at me!"
Slowly, his eyes opened, green pools, full of pain.  He blinked at her, once, twice, and his gaze cleared, but he was still pale.
"Oh, crap!  That hurt!" he said.
"What?  What did he do to you?"
"He died.  He died, damn it, and I felt it.  Every second of it."
"Oh."  The connection, it had to be the connection between Jak and the Selok.  It must be stronger than she’d thought.  "Oh, I didn’t realize. . . .  I’m so sorry, love."
She kissed him, kissed his mouth and his eyes, willing away the pain and the shock.
"It’s okay.  I’m okay," he assured her.  "Just a headache."  
Still, he ran his hands over his face, as if he could rub away the pain.  Tessa’s own head ached in sympathy.  She pulled him close to her, touching his cheek with a tentative hand.  She hadn’t meant to hurt him.
"I’m sorry," she repeated.
"I’m okay," he said again.  He wrapped his arms around her, and they sat for a minute, simply holding each other.  "I just wish you’d let me do the killing.  It’s not something you should have to dirty your hands with.  Especially not somebody like Bolon."
 "Why?  He was my enemy, too.  He wanted to make me his whore.  When I refused, he wanted to have me murdered."
She regretted hurting Jak, but she definitely didn’t regret killing Bolon.   
"I’ll take care of the dirty jobs."
"Oh, you will?  I don’t think so."  This had to stop right now.  "Jak, I love you.  Never doubt that.  But I’m not going to let you wrap me in tissue and keep me in a box just to take out to look at when things are safe and quiet."  Oh, yes, she did love him, but she would not be owned.  No one would ever own her again, not even Jak.  "Yes, there are some things you can do better than I can, but there are a lot of things that I can do better than you.  But I took care of myself before I found you, and I can take care of myself now.  That includes doing the ugly dirty jobs when I need to.  If we’re going to be together, then we’re going to be partners, equal partners.  We’re a team, and together we’re more than the sum of our parts.  So help me when you can, but don’t stand in my way."
She looked into worried green eyes, his now handsome face torn with the desire to shield her from all harm.  And she saw what it cost him to make his decision.
"All right.  Partners, then."
Chapter 38:  The Selok 
Lightning ran through the primary body.  Fire seared the boy-body on the Overlord’s throne.  Hands clutched convulsively at chair arms.  Faces grimaced in pain.  On the floor of the throne room, dancers moved in intricate steps and musicians played on as the court moved through the ceremony of Joining.  The Selok heard none of it, saw none of it.
"My Lord, are you well?" the major domo asked the Regent.  Blue brocade robes rustled as the man bent over it.
The Regent body growled low in its throat.
"My Lord, are you well?" the high priest of Nish asked the Prime.  Red robes swirled as the black mask bent near its face.
The Prime body moaned.
The words echoed in its selves.  The Bolon body was dead, violently dead.  It had set that host to hunt the renegade human and to find the Terran, and then turned most of its considerable attention to the ceremony of Joining.  Now, both remaining host bodies quivered with pain and shock.  It had lost control of the Bolon body, it realized.  The child mind had grown beyond its control.  But it hadn’t lost contact, not until the terrible pain flashed through it.  Ruthlessly exerting control, the Selok examined the last memories it had received from the Bolon body.  The host had found the abomination, the human called Jak.  It had almost succeeded in killing him.  Then, there was an attack that stunned the body.  It remembered rising, the woman with the blaster in her hand, blue eyes burning as hot as the fire that ended that body’s existence.
Not now, the Selok thought, this couldn’t be happening to it now.  
"My Lord?" said the voices.  "My Lord?"
The Selok groaned.
Chapter 39:  Kamura
The black mask stifled her.  The red robe wrapped her like a shroud.  They cut her off from what was happening around her; they cut her off from herself.  She closed her eyes, trying to still the emotions storming in her heart.  Beside her, Toko nudged her shoulder.  His hand squeezed hers once and let go.  It was comforting even through their gloves.  They were crowded in with a hundred priests of Nish, close around the throne of the Overlord to be.  Kamura thought it fortunate that these people didn’t share her culture’s penchant for orderly ranks and files, because she had no idea where they were actually supposed to stand.  They’d slipped in among the others as a wave of priests in red swept by them on their way to take part in the ceremony.  Now, in the glossy black throne room, they were a mass, a mob of bodies touching bodies, all facing the raised dais that held the enormous gold throne that crawled with images of the gods and goddesses of Shadriss.  Pressing close behind them were green-robed priests of the Lady Ur, and beyond the priests, every noble on Shadriss was crowded into the huge throne room.  She heard musicians playing on strings and drums and the shuffle and stamp of moving feet.  The priests chanted, and the nobles danced, all in a moving, throbbing mass of color and life.  And none of them were aware of what really sat on that throne.
Toko had led her through dark tunnels in the worm matrix.  Sometimes, they’d crawled forward on hands and knees.  Eventually, they’d come out in a quiet section of the Black Palace.  There, they’d donned the red robes, masks, and gloves of priests of Nish.
And Kamura had found a com, a working com.  In the moments before they’d joined the others, there’d been no one around to see what she did.  Toko had gone to scout the area, picking out the safest way to join the other red-robes unseen.  She was alone.  
Sick and shaking, she’d realized that she’d be a traitor, a betrayer no matter what she did.  Here choices were impossible.  Call in the airstrike that would kill Toko, Jak, Tessa, and thousands of others with them?  Defy Grandmother Mobutu’s orders, betray her family, and possibly endanger all of humanity?  Alone, afraid, she’d made her decision.
Now, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Toko as they waited to see whether Jak and Tessa would succeed.  Toko had assured them that the three bodies were one being, and Jak had agreed.  Killing or at least damaging one third of that meld should damage the Selok, or so they reasoned.  
Then the Prime jerked forward, bent almost double in a seizure of pain.  Kamura saw him moan and clutched his head.  This was it!  
The High Priest bent over the Prime.  "My Lord, are you well?"
Beside her, she felt Toko surge toward the throne, his strong, agile body running up the steps of the dais two at a time.  She shoved her way forward, following him.  Hands reached for her, but she tore free.  
Chapter 40:  Tessa
Tessa followed Jak as he pushed his way into the packed throne room.  At first, she couldn’t see anything but his broad shoulders in front of her face.  But she could hear the commotion in the room.  Shouting, screaming—confusion slowed the beat of the music and the chanting of the priests.  The dancers shuffled to a stop.  Jak pushed into a more open area, and Tessa slipped around him so she could see what was happening.
They were standing against the railing of a broad walkway that circled the huge room below them.  Ornate thrones stood on each side of a sea of brilliant blue glass tiles, a silver throne sat to her right and a gold one to her left.  She’d heard of this, silver for the Regent, and gold for the Overlord’s throne.  Both were raised up on high platforms, although the Overlord’s throne sat at easily twice the height of the Regent’s.  There was disturbance around both, but most of the noise came from the Overlord’s side of the room.  As they watched, two red-robes leapt onto the dais and raced up the steps.  Shoving the High Priest aside, one drew a knife and began hacking at the neck of the Prime.  The false Prime, Tessa reminded herself, the Selok’s other body.  Scarlet blood sprayed into the air, brilliant with the color of Nish.  She felt Jak lurch, and was just in time to clutch him to her.  Only the press of the crowd around them kept them from falling. 
"Jak!"
"Neck," he gasped.  "Don’t let me fall."
"I’ve got you." 
She wrapped both arms around his waist and held on tight, her own neck aching in sympathy.  On the Overlord’s throne, the second red-robe struggled with the high priest for the crown.  Closer to them, nobles in brocade and silk milled in confusion.  Armed guards tried to reach the thrones, but there were too many people in the way.  
Tessa heard screaming to her right, the Regent screaming on his silver throne.  His wide brimmed hat fell to the floor and the waterfall of silver beads was trampled under the feet of the nobles around him. She saw him throw himself back as his body convulsed.
She felt Jak trembling in pain, every muscle locked tight as he gasped for breath.  She slid her right hand up his chest, over the rough fabric of his new black tunic, reaching for the back of his neck.  Massaging Jak’s nape in small soothing circles, she murmured, "It’s alright.  We’re going to be okay.  Just hold on.  It’s almost over."
She hoped that wasn’t a lie.
She looked over her shoulder at the gold throne of the Overlord in time to see Toko throw back his hood and rip off his black mask.  Kamura tore off her own mask as well.  She’d won the tug of war with the high priest, and she handed him the Overlord’s jeweled crown.  Toko ripped a circle of shining black from inside it and tossed the glittering ornament to the milling priests below them.  Standing in front of the Overlord’s throne, he placed the black circlet on his head.  Was this the thing they called the God Core?  It was plan, unimpressive without its covering of jewels.  He adjusted it so that it touched the connector at his neck.  It clung there on Toko’s head for a moment and then seemed to flow, to disappear into the mass of his hair.
There was a pulse.
A sleeper woke.  Something huge stirred and stretched.  There was a heartbeat, a deep breath, an awakening.  It was all those things, yet none of them.  
Tessa smiled.  How could she ever have doubted him?  Most of all, it was right that Toko was Overlord of Shadriss.
Chapter 41:  Jak
Jak stood on the walkway, shaking, his head in such agony that he couldn’t move.  He felt Tessa’s arms around him, holding him as he held her.  She was so small, so delicate looking, yet so strong in every way that counted.  Just the feel of her in his arms grounded him.
"Neck," he gasped.  "Don’t let me fall."
"I’ve got you." 
Through light that stabbed his eyes, Jak saw Toko on the gold throne of the Overlord, watched as the boy took the crown from Kamura and ripped out a circlet of the worm stuff.  This was the God Core?  It didn’t look like much.  Tossing the elaborate metalwork down among the priests below him, the boy slipped the plain black circlet on his head.  It flowed.  It moved.  It melded with Toko.
Near them, the remaining Selok host body, screamed and convulsed in agony.  
"It’s alright," Tessa said.  "We’re going to be okay."
But Jak could barely hear through the roaring in his head.  Memories assaulted him, all alien memories.  The hive, the egg chambers, host bodies, all of it strange to him, yet all of it eerily familiar.
There was a pulse.
It was a heartbeat, a deep breath, an awakening; it was all those things, yet none of them.  Jak could feel it now.  That thing on Toko’s head, the God Core; it wasn’t a connector, it wasn’t an enhancer, it was an interface, an interface to the entire Black Palace, to every artifact of Selok making across the entire planet.  And now Toko was at its core.  He was the nexus, the connection, the controller.  And that was right.  That was good.  He straightened, breathing deeply for the first time in what seemed like hours.  His pain faded, along with his fear, his confusion.  This was good.  This was right.
Most of all, it was right that Toko was Overlord of Shadriss.
Chapter 42:  Kamura
She’d made her decision, and she would stand by it.  Grandmother Mobutu was wrong.  Toko was the rightful Prime of Shadriss, and he deserved the chance to take his place as Overlord.  The decision had cost her everything—her position in her Family, the confidence of her grandmother—she’d thrown all that away when she chose not to call in the airstrike.  Shaking, defiant, she followed Toko through the confusion of priests as he raced for the throne like a flame of red.  
Grabbing the false Prime by the hair, Toki hacked at the back of the boy’s neck, slicing away the connector there.  Hacking through sinew, bone, and nerve, until blood sprayed out, painting them and the throne in the scarlet of Nish.  There was no resistance from the young host body.  Slack faced and drooling even before Toko reached him, he didn’t seem to notice the knife in his flesh.  Jak’s attack on Bolon must have had an even greater effect than they’d hoped.  The body convulsed once as blood jetted across them both, and then went limp.  The air reeked with the copper smell of it.  From across the room, Kumara heard the Regent scream in agony.  The music died, and the dancing staggered to a stop.  Confusion swept the room like a wind through the reeds.
Kamura tore the crown from the hands of the shocked High Priest, shoving the red clad figure off the dais and into the milling red-robes below.  The crown was an ugly thing, worse than the ornate gold throne.  It was a helmet of platinum metalwork and faceted gems, mostly the emeralds and rubies symbolic of the two great priesthoods, with a spill of the silvery beads so favored by the nobles of Shadriss hanging down all around the rim.  She thrust it toward Toko.  
"Take it!"
Snatching the crown, he flipped it over, and Kamura glimpsed glossy black on the inside.  With a tug, he ripped a simple black circlet free of the crown and threw the gaudy metal away.  Was this unimpressive looking artifact the God Core?
"Mine," he said as he threw back his hood.  
With his free hand, he tugged off the black mask that covered his face. He looked alien to her at that moment, his expression set and determined.  Had she done the right thing? 
"Mine."  
He yanked the circlet onto his head, tilting it back so that it made contact with the connector on the back of his neck.  For a moment, nothing happened.  Then, the circlet seemed to melt, to flow like liquid on his skin, disappearing into his hair, into the flesh and bone of his skull.
There was a pulse.
It was as if a still heart suddenly beat, as if a cacophony smoothed into music, as if a fresh wind blew away the fog; it was all those things, yet none of them.  The world was abruptly right and orderly.  Everything was exactly as it should be. 
She smiled.  Most of all, it was right that Toko was Overlord.
Chapter 43:  Jak
No!  No, no, no!  Jak’s hands pressed against his temples as if he would crush the invader out of his head.  It was all wrong!  They had to—yes, both himself and that other creature inside him—they had to stop Toko and the God Core interface.  For the first time, Jak found himself united with the strangeness, that piece of what Kamura called a Selok.  They were separate and they were one, but Jak was in control.  He sensed that the Selok wanted to be free of the God Core’s control just as much as he did.  But fighting against that alien interface brought a return of the icy pain in his head.
He felt Tessa shake him, “Jak, what’s the matter?”
Warm arms around him, a scent of perfume; he was still leaning against Tessa.  Teeth clenched, eyes closed against the pain in his head, Jak tried to stand.  He felt Tessa stagger as she took his weight.  No, don’t crush her!  He grabbed the edge of the railing near him and they both slowly slid down until they sprawled on the cold tiles.
“Jak!”
“Can’t talk now.”
Cold sweat dripped down his face.  He couldn’t get a deep breath.  He felt the God Core pushing at his mind, crushing him.  It was just like the first time, when the thing inside the Regent and Bolan had attacked him.  Toko was trying to eat him.  Jak forced himself to meet that other mind.  But it wasn’t Toko he found; it was Toko’s omniphage.  It had already absorbed the sentient bacteria that controlled the Regent’s body, now it wanted to control Jak and the Selok within him as well.  Then there’d be more, Jak realized.  What had been a weak, dormant form of the Selok inside Toko was now awake, aware, and thanks to the interface, able to take as many bodies as it wanted.  
He would not allow that to happen.  Not to him and, more important, not to Tessa.  He felt his own version strangeness inside him, pushing him, no helping him, as he fought the interface-enhanced Selok that had taken over the bodies of Toko and the Regent.  Panting, Jak leaned his head against Tessa’s soft shoulder as he struggled for control of his own mind and body.
He heard the moans and cries from the people all around him as more and more of the helpless human spectators were swept up in the battle.  He had to stop this.  But if he let his own Selok absorb the one inside Toko, would he just be replacing one alien devourer with another?  No, what he needed to do was shut down the interface.  Without the God Core, Toko’s Selok would once again be dormant, maybe even useful to the boy.  But how could he shut down something that he’d seen flow into Toko’s body?  Smash in his head, the way Tessa had smashed Bolon?  He didn’t want to kill the boy.  And he wasn’t sure he could even reach him.  Control over his own body kept slipping away, as if he were made of sand and Toko’s Selok were a wind blowing him into nothing.
What good was the strength the strangeness gave him now?  What good his ability to heal faster than normal?  This wasn’t the kind of fight Jak was used to; this was a battle of the mind.  Again, Jak felt the pressure from the creature inside him, a sense of pushing—this way.  Not words, just a feeling; but it was all he had to work with.  It was as if the creature was trying to show him a feeling, teach him to hear a color, or touch an idea.  Jak felt his mind moving in ways he’d never imagined.  With a sense of contact that was almost physical, he reached the goal.  Was this the God Core?  It was completely alien, with the shape of an idea, the color of an equation, but viewed through the perceptions of his internal Selok, it made sense.  If he just willed here, and thought there, he could adjust it.  To shut it down completely would kill Toko and probably many of those now linked to him.  Best to just send it back to dormant mode, give Toko control of his own mind and body, of his own world.  Jak saw with invisible hands, pushed with invisible fingers, and the pain in his head began to recede.  He took a deep breath.  Then gulped in still more air, gasping as if the effort had been physical.
He gasped and doubled over again as the lightning bolt of pain returned to his head.  It was coming from inside him this time, from the outraged, furious force of his own Selok.  It wanted the interface.  It wanted the interface.  It wanted life.  It wanted power!  Jak felt it tearing at the foundations of his mind, at his will.  The bottomless pool of memories seemed to spread around him.  He was falling into it again, loosing himself.
That would not happen!  Not again.  He was stronger now.  Been there, done that, not doing it again.  With an effort of will that sent agony through his whole body, Jak pulled himself back from the sea of memories.  He grabbed?  Wrapped?  Pulled?  Took control of the Selok mind.  For the first time, Jak took control of the strangeness.  There was a silent explosion within him, and suddenly there was only one being in his body.  Jak gasped, gulping huge breaths of air, as if he’d been running for miles.  Someone was calling his name.  He opened his eyes, and Tessa’s beautiful face swam into view.  Both her hands clutched the cloth of his tunic, and she shook him as if she were trying to shake him back into her reality.
“Jak!  Say something!  Say anything!”
He smiled and before he kissed her, he said the one thing that really mattered.
“Tessa, I love you.”

Epilogue:  Jak
The little Morgan-Haruka was a gem.  Small, tough, beautifully made; the ship reminded him of Tessa.  They already had their first cargo loaded in the hold.  It was worm crap, but it was still a cargo.  Family Mobutu wanted it; they’d deliver it.  They’d returned to Shadriss right after they picked up the Dayside.  Kumara and Toko—Jak couldn’t think of the boy as Luan n’Chall—had selected enough Selok artifacts to keep Family Mobutu’s linguists busy for years translating the glyphs of the worms.  The God Core wasn’t among them, though.  It appeared that particular piece of alien technology had become a permanent part of the new Overlord of Shadriss, poor kid.  At least Jak had managed to return it and the Selok within Toko to dormant form.
It was just that he was feeling a little strange about the whole adventure now that they were on their way.    Still, they had their ship, and they had their cargo.  And he and Tessa were never, ever under any circumstances going to return to Shadriss.  
Once on Terra, they’d exchange the artifacts for a cargo of medical supplies that Kamura wanted delivered to one of the far outlying planets.  The cargo was too small for Family Mobutu’s trading ships, the drop too remote to interest them, but it was perfect for the Dayside.
Twenty more hours, and they’d have completed their first transaction.  They were well on their way to their new life together, and it was good.  In their cabin, holding Tessa in his arms, Jak felt a contentment that he’d once thought impossible.  
"We made it, babe," he murmured into her hair.  "We’re alive.  We have our ship."
"Pretty incredible," Tessa agreed with a sigh.  "We even have our first cargo." 
Jak laughed.  "Worm crap.  Never thought I’d be hauling a cargo bay full of that stuff around."
"It’s what Grandmother Mobutu wants."
Still, Jak would be glad to be rid of their current cargo.  He hadn’t said anything to Tessa, but being around that much of the worms’ work made his skin crawl.  Tessa stirred, lifting her head from his shoulder.  They’d just made love but the movement of her skin on his still sent shivers of pleasure through him.  
"It’s so strange," she murmured, her hand a warm caress on his bare shoulder.  "It’s like I can sense where you are, tell what you’re feeling."
And that’s when the most unwelcome idea he’d ever had came to him.  Jak drew in a deep shaky breath.  He remembered how Bolon had tossed Tessa around on the barge and into the river, but she’d been only bruised.  He remembered how she’d survived the trip through the Waste with nothing worse than raging thirst and dust reddened eyes.  He remembered how he’d thought her dead, there in the Black Palace, when she’d lain broken and pale on cracked green tiles.  
It didn’t mean anything.  Tessa was stronger than she looked, and she’d been lucky.  Of course, she was aware of him, as he was aware of her.  They were in love.  He hadn’t contaminated Tessa with the strangeness, with the Selok omniphage within him.  It was only love.  
Wasn’t it?
"Jak, what’s wrong?"
"Sweetheart, we need to talk."
THE END
*****
About the Author
I've been a writer for most of my life, beginning with illustrated stories in grade school, and continuing with works in the science-fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. I live in Seattle with my cat, Baby, who frequently puts paw to keyboard to help with the story.  
Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it, and that you will take the time to write a review. 
Claudette
January 2011

Click here to see my author page for a list of my other stories published on Smashwords.