Shadows, стр. 33
“I am Yukannak.”
Of all the names Tanavuna expected to hear, that was the most surprising.
“The silci for the satrap?”
“He is me, and I am he.” He spoke the words in a different dialect, one that somehow added weight to them. “But I am more than that; I am Kulsian.”
“That is…why should I believe you?”
“Why should you not?”
That stopped Tanavuna cold. Why shouldn’t he? The bizarre nature of the encounter lent credence to it being the truth…unless it was a trap. But if that were so, why alert them to his presence? Yukannak, if that’s really who he was, could have just shot them.
“What do we have to offer the silci?” Tanavuna said, trying to stretch out the conversation for time to think.
“Sanctuary.”
* * *
“Sanctuary,” Yukannak said. He knew better than to drag out the parley.
“How can I give you sanctuary? There are only three of us.”
“You are with the Offworlders. I wish to join them.”
“You’re a defector?”
Relying upon the clarity of insight that had kept him alive for so many years—years when others died because they couldn’t maintain the delicate balance of lies required for survival in Kulsian power-politics—Yukannak knew that whatever he said to these three now could be rationalized later. “Yes, I am a defector.”
“Come out, then, but make no sudden moves; I will not hesitate to kill you.”
Yukannak emerged with his hands raised, and he kept a close watch on their faces. Their suspicious expressions confused him until he remembered that he wore no paint and only a simple, unadorned robe intended for use in his private quarters. Nor were his boots of the quality expected from the satrap’s silci. “Do not judge me by my appearance; I was asleep when your attack began.”
“You look like a beggar, not a friend of the satrap. Tell me something to convince me you are who you say you are.”
“The F’ahdn is dead.”
“That might or might not be true; I have no way of knowing.” The gun barrel inched sideways to point at Yukannak’s chest. He instinctively sensed that the time for keeping his options open had come to a close. He had to choose now or risk being shot.
“The man below is Subitorni, commander of the J’Stull contingent in Imsurmik. He killed the F’ahdn, with the intention of replacing him.”
“Get over here,” the obvious leader of the three men said. Once against the wall, Yukannak was instructed to sit with his legs crossed and hands behind his head. “I know who Subitorni is. It sounds to me like Subitorni would be our ally.”
The speaker was immediately to his left, blocking his view of the other man on the far side of the door, but Yukannak didn’t need to see him to know that when he started to speak and was cut off by his leader, there were lies in that statement.
“Then kill me now,” Yukannak said, playing the gambit he knew would be necessary at some point. He hoped his voice was steady. “If you know that, you must also know about the archive…and the rest of it.”
The leader didn’t try to conceal his surprise. In the tangled world of the Kulsians, where nothing was ever as it seemed, such an honest reaction would have been viewed with suspicion. But such practiced duplicity had no place among the militias of the Greens and the Ashbands, where trust was considered the most valuable currency.
“What is this archive?” the militia leader asked.
One of the other men leaned into the doorway and squeezed off two rounds. The leader looked at him over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow in an unspoken question.
“Just in case,” the man answered.
“I only heard of it recently,” Yukannak said. “The person who spoke of it is dead now, but he had no more knowledge than that term. Since then, I have thought much of what it could be, and, in truth, I came here looking for it. Your attack on the city was my chance to roam without being seen.”
“If you’re silci for the satrap, why didn’t you ask the F’ahdn?”
“The F’ahdn has kept this secret from the satrap for a reason. If I asked about it—”
“He’d have cut your pretty throat.”
“Or worse. Do you have a name?”
“I am Lieutenant Tanavuna, hetman of Nuthhurfipiko.”
“Why do you seek this archive?”
“I seek my wife, not this archive. My village was attacked by the J’Stull, and she was taken. I believe Subitorni has her or knows where she is being kept. What is its meaning?”
“It is not a common word in your language, but in mine, which is closer to the original Ktoran, it means a protected or special collection of objects. Most often books or other records.”
“Records of what?”
“I do not know. That is what I came here to discover. So, the Offworlders attacked Imsurmik to get your wife back?”
Tanavuna inhaled three times before answering. “No. My mission is to capture high value targets in Imsurmik.”
“And have you found any?”
“It seems I just did.”
* * *
The sound of movement came out of the stairwell. Tanavuna nodded at Ammaii, but Unaa jumped toward the entrance first, determined to avenge his brother. The older man caught him with one hand and threw him back, then he and Tanavuna pivoted; each fired two rounds into the darkness. Cursing rewarded their effort, but that didn’t get Tanavuna any closer to the bottom, or to Kesteluni. Rushing down the stairs would likely get them all killed. What they needed were explosives, and Major Moorefield could probably supply them. But the same explosions that would surely kill the J’Stull might also kill Kesteluni, assuming she was down there.
Nor was it a standoff. If Tanavuna’s sense