Forbidden Sanctuary (11 page)

* * *

The darkness was changing almost imperceptibly into predawn fog. He would have to hurry. They rose at some ungodly hour, and he would prefer to be seen by as few people as possible. Even them.

When he was a couple of miles away, Bernardi stopped and took out his phone. He looked over at Tenon. Still asleep. He made his call.

The phone rang several times, and Bernardi began to think the whole thing wasn't such a hot idea. Then there was a click and an alert hello, and Bernardi explained his situation as quickly and as vaguely as he could. The response was brief and affirmative, so he got back in the car and headed for the place.

It took a while, but finally there was a rutted country road, then a long, winding drive up a rocky hill. Not a pleasant route in fog and darkness, with little sleep. If he missed the road, he could get them both killed. A strange way to die.

But he made it to the top. He stopped the car at the far end of the empty parking area. He looked at Tenon again. Best to wake him this time. No telling what he would do if he woke by himself here.

Tenon looked baffled for a moment when he opened his eyes. Bernardi couldn't be sure he got his message across with his gestures, but Tenon seemed to understand, and stayed where he was when Bernardi walked away from the car.

Bernardi strode quickly up to the front door of the building and gazed in. With a sigh of relief he saw the gray-fringed bald head of his friend, sitting in a chair reading a book. Bernardi rapped softly on the glass door. The man looked up, smiled, and let him in. "Well, what in the world are you up to, Albert?" the man whispered.

"A long story, Michael. I'm sorry if I got you up."

"Oh, nonsense. I rise at two."

Bernardi shook his head. "I wouldn't last a day with you guys. May I—?"

"Of course. Come into my office. I have a feeling great favors are going to be asked of me."

"Oh no, no. Just advice."

They both smiled.

Bernardi sat opposite Michael in his sparsely furnished office and told him the story from the beginning.

"Quite exciting," Michael commented at the end, in the voice of one whom nothing excited. "I guess I can see where it's all heading. And now you want my advice."

Bernardi smiled.

"My advice is for you to leave immediately and go far away. Chances are they will track you down, you know."

"I see what you mean. And you?"

Michael shrugged. "Our lives are very peaceful. Nothing happens here."

"Lucky you." Bernardi arose. "Time to be going, then."

"I'll see you to your car."

Bernardi walked back outside, with Michael following. Dawn was clearly approaching now, and with it some promise of warmth after the long night. Tenon was still sitting in the car, huddled in Father Gardner's coat. "Will you introduce me?" Michael asked.

"Of course."

They laughed, and Bernardi performed the amenities. Then Michael grasped Bernardi's hand. "Good luck, Albert. It may be dangerous."

"Oh well. It's about time I had a little danger in my life."

Michael looked at him. "I do believe you're enjoying this."

Bernardi looked back. "Aren't
you?"

They laughed again, and then turned back to Tenon.

Chapter 9

Sabbata awoke shivering. She had never felt such cold. It was beyond discomfort, beyond pain. It was killing her. She instinctively reached out for Tenon....

But Tenon wasn't there.

And then her mind started to sort things out. It wasn't
her
feeling, it was a bonding feeling; sometimes powerful emotions or sensations leaked across, even unconsciously. She must have been dreaming of Tenon and slipped into the familiar routine while still asleep. It was Tenon's coldness, then. He was somewhere in the cold.

He had left the Ship.

Sabbata willed the bonding away, and the coldness retreated to the fringes of her mind. Her normal feelings flooded in to take its place, and she began to cry. How could he leave the Ship? That was not only forbidden, it was unthinkable. He was disappearing into the alien world, and leaving her behind.

Her body began to produce its own coldness.

There was supposed to be such a depth of feeling between you and your bondmate. It was inevitable, they said. But Tenon had always been so distant, so uninterested. They had worked together all right until the Voyage, but then things had deteriorated until there was nothing: no bond, only the weight of his mind, resisting. She should have told someone right away, before the Voyage, but that would have meant she couldn't go, and she kept hoping it would change, that she could
make
Tenon respond.

But now her bed was empty, and she had to decide what to do.

Zanla had to be told. Should she go up there now, awaken him, tell him everything? No, she couldn't bring herself to do that. What if she were wrong? What if there had been a duty change that Tenon hadn't bothered to tell her about? What if Zanla had sent him on some kind of secret mission? It was all so confusing. She would wait, she decided finally. If he had not returned by worktime, she would speak to Zanla.

* * *

Worktime
. Sabbata was not used to being on the third level, particularly this early in the morning. She looked nervously up and down the corridor, expecting Samish to appear and reprimand her. She wished with all her heart that she didn't have to be here, but there was no avoiding it now. Tenon was gone, and it was her duty to report it.

When Zanla finally approached, she had to suppress an urge to flee. He looked surprised, of course, a trifle uncertain. She bowed deeply. "
Alm a Numos."

"Alm a Numos,
Sabbata. What, uh, brings you up here?"

"Master, Tenon—my bondmate—I think he's gone."

"Gone?"

"Left the Ship," she managed to whisper.

Zanla stared at her for a long moment, then opened the door of his office. "Come inside," he commanded.

She followed him in. She had never seen the Master's office before. She barely saw it now, as she concentrated on the details of her story. She went through all of it, everything she should have told before, everything she thought might matter now.

At the end Zanla was silent for a while, looking down at the table in front of him. "You felt cold last night," he said finally. "Any bonding feelings now?"

She searched. "Nothing. He could be asleep or—"

"Or unconscious. Or dead."

"Or the bond could just be broken," she added, unwilling to consider those possibilities.

Zanla gestured slackly in agreement. "All right, then. Why? Why would he act like this?"

The question was familiar to Sabbata. She had been asking herself the same one for a long time. Her answer was strange and frightening, but it was all she could think of. "I think... he may be a disciple of Chitlan."

"You
think
? Have you any proof?"

"I only know that this should be the greatest opportunity in the life of a citizen of Numos," she replied. "And Tenon scorned it. I feel he must have had some other
hasali.
Otherwise..." She could not finish.

Zanla pondered her answer, then motioned wearily to the door. "Go get Samish," he said. "We will search the Ship, just to be sure."

She bowed in obedience and rose. "Master?" she asked hesitantly, afraid to bring this last question up.

"Yes?"

"What will happen to me, Master? Without my bondmate—"

"Oh, don't worry," Zanla said, apparently trying to be cheerful. "It's not your fault. We still have the power to return, even if we don't get Tenon back. But we
will
get him back."

Sabbata should have been reassured by the last sentence, but instead Zanla's tone frightened her more than ever. She bowed again, and hurried off to find Samish. It was out of her hands now.

* * *

The search was quickly completed, and Samish stood in front of Zanla, awaiting further instructions. "Get last night's exit guard and have him questioned," Zanla ordered. "If he was asleep, relieve him of his duties. Tell the Earth guards that all meetings are canceled for today and that I wish to see Bacquier immediately."

"Yes, Master," Samish replied. "Priestess Ergentil—"

"And keep Ergentil away from me, will you?" he snapped.

Samish bowed and scurried away, All he needed now was to have Ergentil carping at him, Zanla thought. He had to have time to plan before he confronted Bacquier, and she would only draw him into a fruitless argument over who was to blame, only point out the consequences that were already all too apparent to him.

You've taken far too many risks,
he could hear her say. We should have left as soon as we discovered the planet had intelligent inhabitants. Let the Council decide how—or whether—to deal with these creatures. Now see what has happened. Now look at the chaos you've created.

But they were necessary risks,
Zanla thought, unconsciously slipping into a mental debate with her. Isn't the purpose of these Voyages to find another intelligent race? And after generation upon generation of fruitless searching, are we to leave the race behind the instant we find it, with the possibility that the
retheo
setting was incorrect, or that a comet will strike, and we will never find it again? What is my job for, if not to—

He noticed Samish standing in front of him. "The guards say that Bacquier will be coming shortly, Master."

"Did they seem surprised when you called off the meetings?" Zanla inquired.

Samish considered. "I don't know. They asked me why, but—"

He didn't need to complete the answer. Zanla understood. How can you interpret their gestures, expressions, words, when you have no referents, when you're not even entirely sure they
have
the same emotions as you?

And now, Zanla knew, he had to interpret correctly. Unless Tenon was brought back immediately, Zanla would have to judge Bacquier's responses and decide if he was telling the truth. He couldn't afford to be wrong.

He waved Samish away and tried to concentrate on the question he had to answer.

The question was:
if the aliens had Tenon, what could they learn from him?

They knew so much. Numian didn't have words for most of their inventions. Zanla had only the vaguest understanding of any of them. Their science seemed almost in the realm of magic... yet they didn't understand timeless travel. But surely they must be capable of understanding it, surely it was a mere quirk of circumstance that Numos had it and they didn't. Surely all they needed were a few clues....

And what clues did Tenon possess? The techniques of bonding, of course, perhaps a few elementary notions about the
retheo.
Did he know the
retheo
settings for home, for Numos? It was not unlikely.

And if he did, and if his knowledge gave Earth scientists the key they needed, then Numos was in grave danger. These humans were energetic, and resourceful, and powerful. If they could find their way across the stars to Numos, the planet would be theirs for the taking.

Zanla shivered at the unthinkable thought. He had to get Tenon back.

"Claude Bacquier," Samish announced from the doorway.

"Send him in," Zanla said, rising in automatic politeness.

Bacquier came in, followed by the translator Colin. They bowed, and Zanla motioned to them to sit. "Thank you for coming so promptly, Claude," he began.

"Not at all," Bacquier responded to the translation, "I am, of course, eager to know what is the matter, so that we can do what is necessary and the meetings can continue."

Zanla studied Bacquier's face for signs of deception. But in addition to being an alien Bacquier was a diplomat, trained to impassivity. There was nothing to be seen. Zanla plunged ahead. "One of our crew members is missing. He left the Ship last night. We have some reason to believe he is a member of an outlawed religious sect and might have escaped to avoid punishment. We, of course, want him found and returned to us. We cannot continue the meetings until this is done."