Magus Star Rising

Death is inevitable. But life is everlasting.

SPIRIT DICTUM

Resurrection

Somewhere she floated, rising through a murk of thick, darkening clouds. In another place, she swam underwater, bobbing, sinking, the blurry silhouettes of unseen creatures moving all around her. And then she felt a blinding pain...

Ladora gasped and brought her head up sharply from some hard surface she lay on. She rolled over on her side, her chest heaving. She rested there for a moment (on the floor somewhere) and prayed the throbbing ache in her head would subside.

What... what happened to me? she thought. And then, slowly, as if awakening from a nightmare, she remembered. Kazrah. That filthy klau! He hit me!

Slowly she pulled herself to her knees. Her hand reached out instinctively and grasped onto the nearest steady surface. She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve and looked up.

She knelt in the Honin-Zay kitchen; had been lying near the ovens. Now she held onto the corner of one of those ovens for support while her head felt afire. All the oil-globes she had dimmed earlier had been turned up, throwing everything into bright light.

She tasted blood in her mouth and gingerly touched the side of her face. She pulled her hand back with a short cry. Her face was tender and swollen. Kazrah hit me, she thought again as if she couldn’t quite believe it. He kept calling me Behoola. And what were he and Mistress Honin-Zay doing?

With a grunt of pain, she staggered to her feet, pausing a moment to let a sudden dizziness abate. What am I doing here? Slowly she shuffled, stumbling and loose-kneed, to the sink and opened the pipe. Ahhh, yes. She splashed water on her face and neck, wincing at the tenderness of the bruises. Grabbing a nearby cup, she drank deeply and gratefully. She glanced to her right where the body of Terenio lay within the storage cabinet.

It was then she heard a groan.

Terenio? But no, the sound emanated from behind her. She turned and another attack of dizziness struck. “Who’s there?” she said, steadying herself by holding onto the edges of the sink. She pulled her knife out and walked haltingly back the way she had come.

Another body lay on the floor, not far from where she had awoken. One she hadn’t seen earlier. This one, like Terenio, was naked, and Ladora thought she could see darkened, congealed blood on his neck as well. He lay partially beneath a rug, one Ladora recognized as belonging in the mistress’ sitting-room.

He was a large man, broad and wide-chested. As Ladora crept closer, she noticed tattoo-like swirls and designs lacing his skin, not any caste markings she knew. Some spots on his chest and arms were raised as if small objects of some kind resided just under the skin.

Ladora stopped, her eyes widening. It was Kazrah.

Ladora had seen death before. In the Puman relocation camp, that had been a daily occurrence. And this one lying before her surely had gotten what he deserved.

What do I care? Except... The attendant/bodyguard’s eyes were closed but Ladora could now see the erratic rise and fall of his chest. The large gash that framed his throat like a bloody necklace was most certainly a knife wound but...

Ladora moved closer, fascinated. Around the edges of the wound, a white froth bubbled. The ends of the cut were pink and seemed to be... healing.

How could that be?

Kazrah groaned and opened his eyes.

Ladora cried out and toppled backwards. She hit the floor in a jarring thud and lay there, breathless, for a moment. Then she scrambled up to her knees and crawled away from Kazrah. She reached the door, got to her feet and tried the handle. It had been locked from the outside.

She turned. Kazrah sat up, his head down on his chest, spittle hanging from his open mouth, his arms resting on his knees.

Ladora stood with her back to the door. Some of the kitchen implements within reach could be used more effectively as a weapon than her knife. She could finish this scut off while he was helpless and be done with him. But her legs felt like windblown reeds, her chest hurt. And, ironically, despite her hard edges, Ladora had never killed anyone before.

Plus, she was confused. By the look of Kazrah’s wound and the amount of dried blood on his neck and chest, the bodyguard should be dead. Shouldn’t he? What had happened here?

“Ladora.”

Kazrah had risen to one knee, his voice a whispery rasp. He pulled himself to his feet, taking slow, deliberate breaths. The flap of skin at his neck had almost closed over what was left of the gash.

Ladora felt as if she were dreaming.

Kazrah took a few tentative steps in her direction and then, more confidently, walked to where she stood, his nakedness, unfamiliar body markings, and neck wound making him seem like something out of an old myth; as if he weren’t real at all.

Ladora pressed herself back harder against the door. She had entertained the thought of seducing Kazrah once, had even gone through the motions with him. Now, he frightened and repulsed her. She had never seen a man like him before. If she wasn’t sure her eyes were playing tricks on her (they had to be!), she would have sworn some of the bumps under his skin moved.

She held the knife out in front of her, a futile gesture knowing Kazrah had already disarmed her when she had brandished a far more efficient weapon.

For once in her life, she didn’t know what to do.

Kazrah stood in front of her, blinking like one who had been asleep for a very long time. Slowly, he raised one meaty hand and touched his neck.

The wound had completely healed.

“Ladora.” His voice sounded almost normal again, soft and secretive. “I need your help.”

“You filth!” Ladora shouted with a bravado she didn’t really feel. She pointed her knife at him. “You tried to kill me.”

For a moment Kazrah looked confused. “No,” he finally said. “That was not me.”

“Not again. Stop talking in riddles!”

“Listen to me.” He stopped then, glancing down at his body as if seeing it for the first time. “Listen to me,” he continued. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Ha! So you say. Just like any other man.”

Kazrah’s expression took on a new hardness, as if his own insidious awareness began to reawaken. “No,” he said, his eyes blazing. “Not at all like other men.”

Ladora’s knife hand began to shake. “Are you a demon spirit then? Risen from the dead?”

Kazrah nodded, slowly, as if testing the limits of his newly-healed neck. “Some might say I am. But I was never dead. Near to it but not enough to forego the benefits of the nano-bugs.” He smiled, revealing rows of gem-encrusted teeth. “No, Ladora, what you see before you is the result of the newest technological wonder. Incredible, is it not?”

Ladora’s grip on the knife began to waver. Technology? What lunacy was this?

“You do not believe me? Well, here I am. Call it a miracle, if you want. Just help me, and you can reap the rewards of this technology as well.” He took a step closer, still smiling. “I will see to it you become richer than you ever imagined and you can enjoy those riches forever because nothing will be able to hurt you.”

Ladora knew a lie when one was spoken. She had certainly told enough of them herself. If any other man would have said what Kazrah had, she would have laughed in his face. Yet, by his own acknowledgment and the truth of her own eyes, here he was.

And what would explain that? Was he an off-worlder privy to matters both secret and arcane? A government official involved in the darkest of plots? Or was it magic, black and evil? No, no, Kazrah was a criminal, more likely, possessed of all those connections.

A thought occurred to her. Was he Ahnka? That might explain things. And, if so, why was he here?

This might be worth risking.

She slowly lowered the knife. Kazrah nodded, a faint shadow of a smile on his face. He walked to the door, waited while Ladora move out of his way and placed his palm against the lock. A flash, a faint popping sound. Kazrah pushed on the door and it slowly swung open, a small wisp of smoke curling up from the keyhole.

“How...?”

“All in due time. Right now, I need some clothes. Can you get those for me?”

Ladora nodded, feeling numb. Was he a sorcerer after all? What kind of technology was this?

“Good.” In a movement so swift, it seemed like a blur, Kazrah reached over and took the knife from Ladora’s hand. He placed the flat side of the blade against her cheek, cocking his head to one side.

She stood her ground, looking into his hard eyes. She felt no fear now, only an anticipation. She remembered Denelle’s prediction. And her warning. This bodyguard. I would stay away from him if I were you.

And miss all of this?

“You have always seemed a smart fem,” Kazrah said, running the cool blade down to her neck. “Always willing to climb the next step, to reach the next level. Be smart now. Consider this...”

Ladora smiled and finished, “...an opportunity.”

“How do you feel?” the creature asked. “I was worried about you.”

Iolyn looked at herself in the mirror, the creature’s shaded form, gaunt and skeletal, reflected behind her. “Fine,” she answered, running a brush through her hair. “Better, in fact. Much better.”

“Good.” The creature moved out of the mirror’s reflective range. But Iolyn heard its movements, the rustling of its clothes, the short rasps of its breathing. “The stabilizing injection worked then. You’ll be able to finish your business here tonight.”

Iolyn ran her hand down the front of her neck, her eyes unblinking. “And then? Kazrah is dead. Will you arrange the second full treatment for me in his place?”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll go through the transformation again. His body is hidden in the kitchen with Terenio and Ladora and by touching him, I can revert to his form and gain some of what was in his mind. It is very, very interesting. I’ll be able to harvest more of his knowledge in this way, you see.”

Iolyn imagined the creature staring into a middle distance, listening to its secret voices. “There is something hidden,” it finally said. “Oh, I can’t see everything Kazrah knew but there is something I sense, some secret bit of knowledge, that I can’t touch and yet it’s there, just out of reach. Those memories were well guarded. Something about his body itself. It feels different, stronger somehow.”

The creature chuckled, shifting moods. “Oh well. Even without the memory part of it, I must say I... hunger to transform again.” Its breathing became more pronounced, its voice husky. The room suddenly seemed to turn cold. “It’s quite... sexual, in a way. Yes. I used to sell myself to men for money. Does that surprise you? But even with Simon, which was different, I never felt like this. Never. Never.”

A slag. Even now. No matter what. “But you implied you hated what you have become.”

“Did I? At times, perhaps. It’s all so new. In all fairness, I’ve only been this thing a short time.” It laughed again, a scratchy sound. “I haven’t really developed a fair opinion yet. But don’t worry. I’ll help you through this part of your plan tonight. That I will do. I feel, in some way, that I owe you that. I’ll take the lasepics as Kazrah had planned to do of you and Weller meeting. As far as killing your husband and his whore. Well...”

“You said you wanted to find out what it was like to be a high-born fem. Do you plan to kill me too like you killed Ladora?”

There was just a momentary silence. Iolyn held her breath. Terenio was dead. Ladora. Once more, it seemed to her as if she observed everything from a great distance. She felt nothing. She had employed and, consequently, worked through the Ahnkan. Now she would do the same with this creature, this bau-bau, the one who had done all the killings. What did it matter as long as she achieved her goal? She felt strong again. And focused. I want this to be over, she thought. I want to be free.

The silence stretched. Was the creature still in the room? “Ladora still lives, though I’m not sure why I spared her. And I would not kill you. Surely, you misunderstood me.” More rustling. “I’ll leave you now and take my place in the small alcove at the rear of your living room. I know how to work the lase-camera.”

Iolyn fastened a bracelet around her wrist. “How did you get into the house? How did you get past the guards and bypass the palm-lock and camera-eyes?”

Another laugh. “Why, Terenio brought me in, of course,” she said. “I was watching the house from the grenia when I saw him leaving. I still have some skill left in matters of sex and persuasion and Terenio, it seemed to me even from a distance, would be easy to convince.

“I can transform myself without contact but it’s a little more difficult and, as a result, the finished form isn’t always perfect. I made myself, shall we say, a little more presentable and, luckily, along with the cover of darkness, Terenio didn’t look too closely. I intercepted him and convinced him we should return for a quick round of pleasure. There were only you and Kazrah and Behoola in the house; plenty of places to play without arousing suspicion. Terenio knew how to turn off some of the interior camera eyes which was useful. The guard at your gate thought it was funny. A righteous male thing. He let us pass without question.”

It snorted. “You, of all people, being a member of such an important clan, should hire better help, I think. Such lapses are dangerous. Wouldn’t you say?”

It doesn’t matter now. The servants and guards can have the house! “And who are you then? And why do you want to help me? If you knew Weller. If you...”

A sharp intake of breath, a hissing sound. “So many questions! I have my reasons which are none of your concern.”

Now Iolyn laughed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Yes! I do not, no, I don’t... I don’t care!”

Once again, the creature appeared in the mirror’s view. It smiled. “We are much alike, you and I,” it said. “We have both Turned in our own ways.” A sneer crossed its face. “You will make a good Terran.”

“And what will you be?” Iolyn asked but the creature was gone. No matter. She smiled as she started to wrap a long scarf of init cloth around her head. Simon Weller would soon be here. And she would give him a choice.

And his decision was something she did care about.