Extremis (58 page)

But Ankaht did something entirely different—something Torhok had never seen before, had only read about: she pitched forward into a fast but low front-flip. She could not have done it if she had had the typical
Destoshaz
body: her low center of gravity and short limbs allowed her to put herself into this tight forceful spin with extraordinary speed, even as it minimized her size as a target.

Urkhot, three-quarters of the way through his leap, tried to compensate—but couldn’t, not entirely. He tried turning his leap into a flip of his own—thereby modifying Wave Breaks High into Wave Curls Under—so he could attempt to rake her as he passed. But Ankaht’s positional change was so fast and tight that he only got a glancing blow at her as he went through his longer, larger flip, which carried him well past his target. To his credit, he landed on his feet, started to turn—

And saw, quite distinctly, the front of his torso bulge and writhe outward, a moment before he felt a white-hot burning in his back. He tried to complete his turn, couldn’t, realized he couldn’t even feel his legs. Then he felt Ankaht’s
skeerba
twist deep inside him.

And then he felt nothing at all.

* * *

Ankaht eased Urkhot’s body to the ground with some difficulty. She felt the Council’s
selnarm
close around her: a taut, quivering necklace of entities that ringed her with an intensity of focus that was almost uncomfortable.

Finally, there was a slow probe. Temret, reimaging her flip—the one that had made Urkhot overshoot her and expose his own back. “What was that maneuver?” Temret asked, almost timidly.

Ankaht tried to summon enough interest or energy to respond, but before she could, a reply emerged from the careful, assessing
selnarm
of Torhok. “Unless I am much mistaken, that was a riposte from an old, indeed forgotten,
maatkahshak
that was called
Ran
’
zhetshotan.
” His
selnarm
swished like a predator’s tail as he added with (rue, constraint), “Forgotten to all but a Sleeper
shaxzhu
, evidently.” And behind his sardonic observation, Ankaht could feel—almost as clearly as if he had sent it—Torhok’s true emotion:
Thank Illudor I was never foolish enough to challenge her
.

She straightened, noticed blood trickling from her shoulder and upper arm: Urkhot’s grazing
skeerba
tooth had opened a long, leaking seam there. “Yes, it was a discipline used against Slaughter-Sworn pirates of the Inner Seas, during the Pre-Enlightenment.” She turned, looking round at the Council. Of the eighteen
selnarmic
resonances, six were decidedly hostile, seven decidedly favorable, and five neutral and distressed but clearly happier with this outcome than had Urkhot won.
Well, that’s a more promising mix of attitudes than when we all entered the room
.

“Councilors,” she sent, “this tragedy must not be repeated, must not spread. This suspicion of each other—to the point of duels and assassinations—must be decried and discouraged in the strongest possible terms.”

“A strange exhortation from one who holds the bloody victor’s
skeerba
after a challenge, and who accused the slain of murder.” Mahes stared at her, his eyes rigid with accusation and hatred.

“Clever words—which sidestep my point. In both cases, I had been marked for death—all in the name of race-loyalty and necessity. That I am alive is a testament to the friends I have, good fortune, and the will of Illudor.”

“And a most impressive command of
shaxzhutok,”
added Torhok with a pulse of (irony), “to be able to so thoroughly excavate past knowledge for present purposes.”

“Yes, that, too,” conceded Ankaht, “which reminds us that all castes have something to offer. This is an illustration of why we must not lose the
shaxzhu
. In our past lives, our memories, there are lessons that may be essential to our present or future survival. But there are also the special skills of the
Ixturshaz
and the
Selnarshaz
and the other castes as well. The
Destoshaz
are our indispensable bulwark—but they are not the model for our entire race.
Destoshaz’ai
-as-
sulhaji
is only the path to enlightenment for one caste: the
Destoshaz
.”

Torhok stood. “Yes, well should we speak of the honored and cherished
Destoshaz
. For what is the present proof of the appreciation and high regard enjoyed by the warrior caste?” He physically gestured toward Urkhot’s twisted body. “There is your answer. He who was both a noble
Destoshaz
and a revered
holodah’kri
slaughtered in our midst. But only after he was first pushed to near-madness by false accusations of assassination—”

Amunherh’peshef’s
selnarm
bristled. “The evidence and the charges—”

“—were never admitted to by the deceased, and are now moot.”

Ankaht reflected that this outcome was actually extremely fortunate for Torhok and his supporters. Which was perhaps why the senior admiral had said nothing to support his staunch ally: seeing the possibility of such a scandalous outcome, Torhok had studiously maintained a pronounced distance from Urkhot.

But Tefnut ha sheri was not so easily deterred by Torhok’s dismissal of the importance of the charges. “Senior Admiral, if your legal expertise is as great as your naval ability, it is news to me. It would also be a matter of some worry, since the fleet losses you have sustained do not seem a sign of strategic perspicacity. Either way, it is not for you to decide whether further investigation into these matters is moot. While it may be true that the accountable parties are now beyond the domain of legal redress and recourse, it does not logically follow that we must turn our attention away from the origin of their deeds. Indeed, until we fix accountability for the events, we cannot be sure that all the offenders have been identified…and neutralized, Senior Admiral.” Tefnut ha sheri’s implication—that Torhok himself might somehow be implicated—hung like a gathering thunderstorm in the air of the Council Chamber.

But Torhok—true to form—was not easily perturbed. Instead, he sent a strong pulse of (accord), to which he added: “I am glad to hear of this resolve, Revered
Holodah’kri’at
Tefnut ha sheri, for if the investigation is pursued with all the diligence it deserves, it will not stop with the particulars of the assassination attempt, but will probe its causes, will ask what ultimately inspired and impelled it. For there are further questions—troubling questions—of causality that must also be asked, unless you have determined that all the reputed assassins were simply Urkhot’s automatons.
If this is your conjecture, you are welcome to it—but it ignores the greater possibility: that our brothers and sisters did not enter the Elder’s research complex at the prompting of anything other than their own martyred consciences.”

Amunherh’peshef’s response was stiff, cold. “This, too, we shall consider and investigate.”

“Do. Do indeed consider and investigate this. And while you are doing so, consider what these ‘assassins’—and their comrades—have endured as they fought to protect our Race from the
griarfeksh
. And all the while, they were forced to endure a rhetoric that would have us promote these savage aliens as our equals, as persons, as Illudor’s lost children. And that rhetoric had one source.” He turned to look at Ankaht as the
selnarm
of the
Destoshaz
members of the Council swelled with fierce and unpleasant passions. “The Elder has made much of being the voice of truth. I ask this: Would a voice of truth—of Illudor’s truth—become so ardent an apologist for the most deadly enemy our race has ever known? Would she go so far as accusing, and then killing, its most vigilant and inspired
holodah’kri
, as she has done here today? Is there any way in which common sense tells us that this Sleeper is still an ally to her own people?”

Rage flared out from the
selnarm
of Torhok’s
Destoshaz
faction. Which gave him the opportunity to portray himself as the much-beleaguered voice of reason. “Calm now,” he gently remonstrated his followers, “we cannot presume that the Elder’s treachery is willful and malicious. After all, tragic insanity is another possible source of her actions, for did not the builders of our ships warn that they could not be sure what centuries of cryogenic suspension might do to the minds of Sleepers?”

“I am quite sane,” averred Ankaht quietly.

“When has a victim of insanity ever claimed otherwise?” Torhok’s retort was almost fey. “But at any rate, I wish to hear assurances—now—that the Council will also investigate the possibility that the Elder’s behavior has become pernicious to the welfare of her own people. And that an awareness of this danger may have had a decisive role in compelling those
Destoshaz
whom you have labeled assassins to take corrective matters into their own hands.” The Council’s
Destoshaz
faction sent out a forceful wave of (approval, insistence) in support of this ultimatum.

Amunherh’peshef was quiet for a long moment, as if coming to a difficult decision. “Councilor Torhok, you know we can promise no such investigation. Elder Ankaht has conducted her researches with the sanctions of this Council—including your own. That she has uncovered potentially disturbing facts is not a pernicious act. It is the consequence of following where one’s research leads. She has initiated attacks against no person, but has now twice been the target of attacks that were
almost entirely
Destoshaz
enterprises. And while it
may
be entirely circumstantial that her most ardent opponents in this Council have been supporters of the
Destoshaz’ai
-as-
sulhaji
movement, it seems probable that this is
not
, in fact, merely circumstantial. Therefore, this Council must investigate the persons who might have instigated one or both attempts upon her life. At a bare minimum, her personal safety cannot be assured until we have identified all those parties who participated, directly or indirectly, in these attacks.

“However, I have absolutely no grounds for mounting the investigation you suggest be brought to bear upon Elder Ankaht. For it is not an investigation—it is merely an attempt to validate your contention that
the attacks against her were carried out for the good of the Race. The Council has tolerated this species of insinuation and political bullying long enough. We will do so no longer.”

Torhok’s anger flared briefly, but Ankaht felt it was almost an act. And then, as Amunherh’peshef leaned back from completing his rejection of Torhok’s motion, she understood who his intended audience had been.

Three of the Destoshaz Councilors rose to their feet.
Torhok acknowledged their
selnarm
with (sadness, gratitude, fellow-feeling) but kept his eyes down on the tabletop: a tragic figure, a spurned warrior. “I see. Then if this is what passes for evenhanded justice on this Council, I cannot both serve my conscience as a Child of Illudor and dignify this governing body with my continued presence. To do so would be an affront to His Truth and to the millions of our brothers and sisters who have died for it. In their name, and in honor of their sacrifice, I must boycott this Council.”

Torhok lifted his head and strode from the room. The three
Destoshaz
who had been on their feet already were close on his heels. The last three
Destoshaz
radicals rose—one quite hesitantly—and then they, too, followed the senior admiral out of the Council Chamber.

Ankaht counted and considered. A Council of Twenty. Two of its members—Thutmus and Urkhot—were recently killed, reducing it to eighteen. Now it was boycotted by Torhok and his six remaining devotees, reducing it to eleven. The inevitable response of Senior Councilor Amunherh’peshef? To reassign the seats of the boycotting Councilors with pro tem members—which the
Destoshaz
would contest as an illegal act, and thereby attack the legitimacy of every subsequent guideline and dicta issued by the Council.

Ironically, the Council had put the specter of a possible civil war in Torhok’s hand like a doomsday device. And instead of a lunatic fringe that had been whipped up into a homicidal frenzy against Ankaht alone, there was now the possibility of a far more sweeping and dangerous reaction: a general hatred and distrust of the Council.
Better if we had also had a showdown with Torhok now,
reflected Ankaht as she allowed Temret’s gentle clusters to guide her from the Council Chamber. That would have left the
Destoshaz’ai
-as-
sulhaji
extremists leaderless, which might have been a far better outcome.

Or much worse,
she realized with a quick pulse of almost paralyzing fear. And suddenly she hoped—desperately—that in his coming trip to the front lines, nothing would happen to Torhok.
Because,
she realized,
a wild and furious beast without a head to control it is the most dangerous beast of all.…

* * *

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mretlak.”

“Thank you for being a bastion of sanity amidst the madness that seems to have descended upon the Children of Illudor, Elder.” Mretlak sent (approval, sympathy, appreciation), and then he sent what he knew Ankaht had also come to learn: he relayed his full (support, determination, accord, loyalty). Her
selnarm
brushed his like one weak friend leaning against another’s arm for support. Mretlak was gratified, humbled, suddenly awkward. “Revered Elder, this intelligence cluster remains at your service. Indeed, I was informed mere minutes before you arrived that I have been permanently removed from Senior Admiral Torhok’s chain of command. I am now a security asset of the Council itself.”

“Excellent. And how is your cluster—which I understand is soon to be expanded into a Section—taking this news?”

“Without much distress. Many of my staff have no love of humans, but none of them are infected with the
Destoshaz’ai
-as-
sulhaji
fanaticism. I screened any such candidates out of the initial selection pool. So—for the moment—we are not merely safe, but finally free to work on our own broader researches. Which have produced a most interesting result.”