“This grandson of yours sounds very Takisian.”
“If that’s synonymous with crazy, you’d be right,” Jay said. Tis and Trips winced. For the first time Taj really seemed to focus on the detective.
“For a mudcrawler you are very fearless… or foolish.”
“A little of both actually. Can I ask a question?” Taj nodded assent. “You’re the first old geez – uh, older person I’ve seen here. How old are you?”
“Nine hundred and twenty-three.”
“Jesus Christ! Does everybody live to be nine hundred?”
“Barring unforeseen… er, accidents, which is rather difficult to do,” Zabb drawled. “We can live much longer.”
Taj looked significantly at Tisianne. “Well, I’m waiting.” Tisianne opened her mouth, closed it. Her uncle sighed. “Yes, Tis, your situation is ludicrous, but I don’t see how talking about it will make it any worse. And I cannot help – you or the House – unless I know precisely with what I’m dealing.”
Slowly at first, then with growing animation, she told the tale. The last great fight with Shaklan when Tisianne had begged his father to halt testing of the Enhancer on a small, insignificant planet filled with genetic doubles of the Takisians. His pursuit of the test ship, its destruction, and the release of the virus.
She recalled the early days when ten thousand people had died in Manhattan, when hideous and twisted jokers had wandered like living scars on the face of the city. She spoke of the few, the lucky few who were blessed with metahuman powers – the aces. Taj glanced with interest at the two humans. It didn’t take a genius to conclude that they possessed these metahuman powers. If there was a Takisian racial flaw, it was unbridled curiosity. It was already beginning to eat at the regent.
Tis glossed over the terrible days of the McCarthy witch hunts, her deportation, the years of drunken wandering. It was then he had sired a daughter. Taj’s expression grew thunderous, and she blanched a bit. Hurried on to the founding of the Jokertown Clinic to care for the victims of the wild card. The discovery that he had a grandson: a quarter-Takisian boy who had been raised by vicious revolutionaries and possessed not an ounce of pity or morality. The outcrossing of genes had somehow produced a mind-control power of terrifying dimensions. She touched on the enemies and crises she had faced – the Swarm invasion, the Astronomer, the jumpers, Bloat – and her great nemesis, Blaise.
“There was an ace, his wild card was to bestow this jumper power on adolescents. Blaise became a member of this gang, and to revenge himself upon me, he switched me into the body of this girlchild. He held me prisoner, and he… he… he would…”
Her voice had started to jump, and strength drained from her body. She felt her knees buckling. Zabb reached her first. Swung her up in his arms and carried her to the settee. Her vision cleared. Taj stared down at her, white-faced with shock. Obviously her emotions, the memories, had been too strong. They had forced themselves past the shields that the old man was maintaining for politeness’ sake. Even Zabb, who would cavil at nothing, was shaken.
“This piece of rotting afterbirth raped you?” Zabb shouted. Tis shrank from his anger.
“Hey, guys, yeah, it’s a lousy thing, but we’re all adults here,” Jay said. “It’s not like it never happens -”
“Not on Takis!” Taj interrupted.
Zabb whirled on the humans. “It is an act of total depravity, a sign of insanity. It is abomination.” Zabb turned back to the regent. If this creature is on Takis -”
“He is with the Vayawand,” Taj said.
“Then let me lead a raid -”
“No.” Tisianne sat up, and rising, she moved with what grace she could muster to the desk to seat herself in her father’s chair.
The humans were oblivious to the symbolism. The lines at the corners of Taj’s mouth deepened, whether a smile hidden or anger suppressed, Tisianne couldn’t tell. Taj had ruled this House for over thirty years. Did he resent her usurpation? But it wasn’t usurpation; it was hers by right.
Only one man could challenge that right. Implacably she met his gaze. Zabb smiled. Unconsciously he brushed at his mustache with the tip of a forefinger, his manner that of a man surveying an hors d’oeuvre tray. Taj inclined his head. Zabb did not.
“You are dismissed,” Tis said to her cousin.
“He is the commandant of the House,” Taj said.
“I have not made him so. And you must have been using someone else in his absence.”
“Not as effectively,” was the dry reply.
Zabb rested his palms on the desk and leaned in on her. “I am the best man for the job, cousin.”
“For whatever job I decide to give you. Not one of your own choosing, cousin. And certainly not for the job you are eyeing.” Anger made her breath short, and Illyana jerked in her womb. Tis pressed a hand against her stomach and longed for a handful of Rolaids. “Now, go.” Zabb bowed, so respectfully, so politely, so reverently that it made a mockery of the obeisance, and withdrew.
“We’re going to have to use him,” Taj said.
“Maybe, but Ancestors be damned if I’m going to let him assume anything.”
“What are your orders, Raiyis?”
“Contact the Raiyis of House Vayawand. Inform him of my return, my situation, of the… crime committed against me. Demand extradition, but lead the troops yourself – I don’t trust Zabb -”
It finally penetrated that Taj had been gesturing at her, trying to stop the urgent flow of words. “What?”
“This is all very lovely, nephew, but for one tiny flaw – Blaise is the Raiyis of House Vayawand.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ballooning was definitely a rad experience. Slipping along, just another colorful cloud among all the other colorful clouds. Unlike a human outing there wasn’t a lot of noise of conversation, but that was because most of the people were using Vayet, and fully half the conversation was telepathic. There was a Tarhiji orchestra performing at the stern of the amazing carved-and-painted gondola, but they kept it soft so a person could appreciate the magical silence of this mode of travel.
There was one constant noise that Kelly found very disturbing – the clap of wings followed by a piteous shriek as another small bird or animal was caught and killed by the plunging birds of prey being flown by the nobles in the bow. Blaise was up there where he could really hear their cries and smell the blood. Kelly liked it just fine in the stern, thank you. And he knew the cure for discomfort – more wine.
He signaled, and the wine washed like liquid amber into the goblet. The scent of the servant’s per fume filled Kelly’s nostrils. He snatched up the glass so quickly that the servant spilled a few drops on the embroidered tablecloth. Kelly grinned apology at the pretty girl and gulped down half the glass. Cold sweet fire. Whatever else could be said about the Takisians, they made bitching wine. The girl smiled back. There was a startling reaction from Kelly’s borrowed body, and he half rose from his chair. The horizon wobbled, and Kelly realized he was more than a little drunk.
“The body leads, the mind must follow,” said Bat’tam.
The elderly noble had drawn a chair close – too close – to Kelly’s. The lost human blinked owlishly at him. The embedded jewels had begun to sag like collapsing houses into the wrinkles networking Bat’tam’s face, and his long silver hair reminded Kelly of cobwebs. The older man’s gaze dropped, and Kelly slid a hand to his crotch to hide his rampant erection. Bat’tam stood, waved off the girl, placed a hand on Kelly’s shoulder, and urged him back into his chair.
“There, there, Ilkazam, don’t distress yourself.”
“I’m a little confused about my role right now,” Kelly slurred, and hiccuped his way into a little sob.
“What does it matter? Man or woman, you are dear to me.”
“I thought you were only nice to me so you could get close to Blaise.”