The Shardkeepers: Revelations

By B. A. Fegles

The grypal are far less than what they once were but no one can recall what that was or how they came to this fate. Though all grypal yearn to regain the power they previously held, none are more persistent in the search than Selac S'laith. Ruthless and driven by an insatiable hunger for power, he uses any one and any means to get what he wants.

An unlikely trio and their friends, Ijaka, a katachi warrior, Jasmalea, a horribly inept grypal assassin, and the tiny kit, Musieo are all that stand against him in his hunt to regain what was once lost. The secret to this knowledge of restoration has been well guarded through the ages by a group entrusted to know where it is at all times. The impossible has happened and what they guard has disappeared!

Can it be found and Selac stopped before Dutta is plunged into a world of darkness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477275405

B. A. Fegles

B.A. Fegles has been enthralled with fantasy and fantasy role-playing games for years. Creating and playing deep, rich characters and stories are a particular favorite. Horses are another passion and she specializes in dressage. She lives in the Houston Texas area with her husband, Romeo (their cat), and Sparrow (their dog).

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© 2012 B. A. Fegles. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/10/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7542-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7541-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7540-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012918343

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

1- Enemy Mine

2- Much To Learn

3- You’re A Disappointment

4- Specimens

5- Delivery

6- Demons

7- Safe

8- Mother

9- Redemption?

10- I Don’t Trust You

11- A Place For Me

12- Gift

13- Training

14- Price Of Information

15- Muscle

16- I Know Where You Are

17- The Three Of Us

18- Out Alone

19- Preparations

20- Of Harassment And Rippers

21- The Head

22- Akhtari

23- Puzzle Pieces

24- The Patriarchs

Epilogue

Glossary

Geography

Main Races

Pantheon Of Gods

Yha Li Syndicate

Cast Of Characters

It’s impossible to thank everyone that supported me in this endeavor so thank you all! Most especially, thank you:

– To God who gave me this overactive, and very odd, imagination and, hopefully, the skill to share the stories brewing in my head

– To my husband for always being there and for always being ready with a smile or some weird thing that makes me laugh

– To my Parents and family for always believing in me

– To Lee, the player of and inspiration for Ijaka, who is always a joy in Role Play, who had many ideas for this story, and for letting me immortalize the big cat!

– To Josh B who cheered me on and supported me in too many ways to count

– To Totten for doing an amazing job as my editor and is an amazing writer to boot!

– To all those with whom I participated in Role Play stories and this one in particular. Thank you for the inspirations!

– To Piers Anthony who made me fall in love with fantasy and to the many other fantasy authors that have kept me from real life and in my dreams for so long

PROLOGUE

THERE HAD ONCE been more, much more, and a cry of longing and anger traveled unheard in the black void of space. A distant noiseless answering cry screamed its own anguish and gathered the silent voices of those for whom this space was an existence. But it was not home and they grieved and railed against it and journeyed, their search never over, their knowledge never complete. Who am I? The silent question was asked for the countless time and, for the countless time, went unanswered. What were we? The united moan of loss and desire for what once was drove the muted wails into frenzy. Stolen…it was stolen.Pay..they will pay. Though what was stolen was as lost to them as the identities of those who had stolen it.

They broke from the barrier of the space through which they’d been travelling and careened into the next. Senses reached, anticipation peaked. Maybe here, maybe now, maybe finally. But it wasn’t right. This wasn’t it. They were denied once again in their search and the cries of longing exploded into howls of fury.

Where are you?Why are you not here?

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The cries of early morning hawkers in the streets of Irrigon carried easily through the streets and reached the ears of most of its residents. Those just climbing to their beds grumbled irritations at the interruptions. Those just waking bemoaned the reminder that a new day awaited them. Those already up sought them out and were thankful for a breakfast they did not have to prepare.

Loud though it was, and despite the sensitive hearing of the feline humanoid race known as the katachi, none of the city’s noises reached the uppermost floors of the Elder’s Tower. Five gathered in the thickly tensioned room; barely controlling tempers that would be disastrous on the best of days. Four sat at a large table pouring over tomes and record books and looking decidedly harried. The fifth paced the length of one wall, glaring at the maps that covered it from top to bottom.

This simply cannot be. One female muttered, ears pressed backward in her annoyance, and slammed her book shut. She was the smallest of the group and, despite her relatively quiet demeanor, the loudest colored.

As you have chosen to inform us for the hundredth time. A low growl rumbled from a golden furred male seated at the opposite end of the table and his lips lifted to expose long sharp fangs. The fur of his thick mane bristled and he turned his golden glare to her in his own show of irritation.

She returned the growl and jabbed the claws of one furred hand on the cover of the book in front of her. Exasperated, she thrust it away to send it skidding across the table toward him and slapped her hands on the table. Well it can’t! We’ve never lost track of a Keeper before.

And yet, it seems, we have. The quiet comment from the panther male staring at the series of maps in front of him interrupted the argument between the two. The authority of his voice cut off the retort from the lion male who slumped back, flicked his tail behind him, and satisfy his frustration by glaring at the female.

She ignored him and shifted green eyes toward the standing male. But how is this possible?’ She waved a hand at the scattered books, her own tail twitching behind her. These are merely records to serve as a reminder and a history to what we all know in here. One claw tapped her chest. The gift to follow and locate the soul shards was given to us and it’s never failed us before. Not even when the Keepers were an ocean away!"

The frantic panic in her voice softened the face of the lion male and pulled the panther’s attention from the maps to the other four seated in the room. Be calm, Patriarch Farina. It is unprecedented, I agree, and most distressing. He padded to the table and sat slowly in the chair at the head to consider them all for a moment then drew a long breath. He was obviously not happy with what he felt had to be said. We must contact Jolandar.

Stunned silence met his words but lasted a bare few seconds, broken by an angry roar from a female seated next to the lion. The black spots on her white fur seemed to twitch at her fury. You would have us put our trust in that traitor, Patriarch Bhontan? He took my sister! No one spoke. None were willing to disrespect her and, though all shared her sense of betrayal, none had been hurt by it as much as she. Their silence helped to calm her and it was only after she’d retaken her seat that Bhontan continued in quiet compassion.

We share your pain, Patriarch Mara, and we grieve for the loss your family has suffered but we have been over and over these records and we have searched tirelessly. While I have no intention of abandoning this avenue, one thing seems clear to me. He leaned forward and reached to pull a book close. Ten years ago we knew where all but one Keeper was. That one, we surmise, may be hidden due to magical interference which we have been working to unravel. We...

Already know all this. But it has nothing to do with the traitor! Mara’s growled interruption drew a sharp glare from Bhontan.

On the contrary, it has everything to do with Jolandar. He held up a hand to stop the dispute that sprang to the lips of all the others. Be silent and hear me, my friends. I have been following closely all we have done for these past years. Much of this we have discussed but indulge me while I summarize.

He rose and walked back to the maps to point at several blue dots scattered across the surfaces. These are the known Keepers dating back ten years. His claw shifted to tap on a red and blue dot sitting together outside of any map area. Jolandar and Misha. He knew how to keep them hidden so we don’t know where they are. Given that we know she is a Keeper, I have included her dot. A small chorus of irritated snarls met that but he ignored it and began moving slowly along the maps. A lone blue dot sat below and on the right. This is the missing Keeper we know exists but have been unable to find.

Over the past ten years, each of these Keepers has died due to one reason or another. This is nothing new and when such happens we expect to find the soul shard transferred to another and yet this hasn’t been happening. Most alarming indeed. He murmured to himself and, as he moved, he marked an X over each blue dot until the only the dots for Jolandar, Misha, and the missing Keeper remained.

A throat cleared and the others glanced toward a small, lynx male as if they’d forgotten he was there. Bhontan turned to face him. Yes, Patriarch Ellis?

Ducking his head in sheepish apology, he swallowed and blurted his thoughts. Ah, well is it possible they are simply hidden as are Misha and the other? It was clear he was not convinced though his tone carried a glimmer of hope that he was right.

Bhontan shook his head sadly and sat again. I had considered that but, no, we would know, as we do for the missing one, when new Keepers were made. But there is no sign that any new Keepers have emerged. And that, my friends, is what we need to investigate. We need to stop searching and uncover the root of the problem. He sighed and turned his yellow eyes to each one at the table. Unfortunately, as much as it pains me to say this, our task now is to find and question Jolandar. In my heart I know it is he who holds the key to this dilemma"

No one breathed and as he looked from one to the other to the other to the other he saw reluctant consensus in each of their faces.

ONE

ENEMY MINE

THERE WAS NO doubt about it now. The dream was changing and the changes were alarming although the sleeper could not say why. Always the motes of blue and gold lights twinkled and danced but never came close to any others as if on purpose. Even now they twinkled and danced but there was a growing level of anxiety radiating from them which might have seemed strange had it not been a dream. Where before they kept a distance, now they appeared to be pulled together and the sense of their unwillingness in this was strong. All but one clustered in a wildly pulsing ball of light. They seemed to be straining to move apart but something kept them together. The lone mote spun on its own though it did seem to cling to the dreamer as it always had before. That part was consistent and it brought with it a tiny measure of comfort and pleasure.

Darkness loomed and shifted in a pattern that indicated it was searching for something. It always sought for something it never found. That the hunt, coupled with a definite direction, held a sense of excitement this time was different too and more than a little alarming. Before it had ignored the lights or, perhaps, simply didn’t notice them. Now, it twisted, turned, and slithered its way toward the undulating cluster. Satisfaction radiated from it and it reached to devour and claim. Frustration followed when it could not quite seem to take hold.

Just beyond the lights something else appeared that hadn’t been there before. Illuminated by the blue and gold, a face darker than the darkness peered in eager anticipation at what it was seeing. The sleeper writhed in his bed, alarmed by the manifestation, and shouted a soundless warning. To who?And why? There was something familiar about the mien too. New but not. Hated and feared. It laughed and the dreamer roared his defiance.

Ijaka bolted upright in his bed and struggled with the sheets that tangled about him. It took several moments before he realized he was awake and by then the dream had faded. Finally freeing himself from the sheets, he slid from his bed and strode angrily toward his bedroom window to look out at the night sky. His heart thundered in his chest as he fought to recall the details of what felt like a nightmare. Unfortunately, it eluded him as it always did and his tail swished behind him in irritation.

Why was it he could never remember anything beyond blue and gold? And why, he wondered, was tonight’s recurrence so different? Then again, how did he know it was different if he couldn’t recall it? A low growl rumbled in his chest and the large katachi rubbed a hand over his head. Before, every time he’d had the dream he’d awakened comforted but this time all he felt was overwhelming distress and an impending sense of danger.

For some reason it made him think of Commissioner S’laith and that alone was enough to put him in a foul mood. Grumbling and frowning, he stomped off to the kitchen to get something to eat and maybe a drink as well. Definitely a drink. There was little love between the Colonel and the Commissioner and Ijaka could not figure out why he would even be thinking of Selac this early. Forgoing food and a glass, the Colonel grabbed a bottle of his favorite whiskey and stormed back to look out the bedroom window once more.

Morning colors had begun chasing away the starred canopy and Ijaka drank and thought as he watched. Maybe the grypal was on his mind because he knew that Selac and General Tolco would be meeting with the Director this morning over some stupid broken bowl. He shook his head and pulled again at the bottle. True he was the one who’d smashed the thing but it was just a damn bowl! It was also true that Selac would go to any length get rid of him but Ijaka would be damned if he’d give him the satisfaction of rolling over and dying. He chuckled.

You’d like that too you bastard. Not many in the Syndicate liked the grypal but not many were willing to stand up against him either. He’d proven many times that doing so was painful at best, deadly at worst and only a fool would take him on. That brought another chuckle. I guess that makes me your fool, Selac. That the katachi Colonel still lived really was a mystery to everyone and to no one more than Ijaka himself. Somehow, he’d managed to foil every single attempt the Commissioner made against him and each time it happened the deeper the grypal’s hate for him ran. The deeper it went the more satisfaction Ijaka gained from it.

A wide toothy grin drove away any hint of concern over the shifting dream. You just keep trying but I swear I’ll find out what you’re up to. He lifted the bottle in the general direction of the Yha Li Syndicate’s headquarters in a mocking salute. And when I do, then we’ll see who wins shall we?

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Director, my people had every right…

Your people interfered with a paying contract! A bald, bare-chested, and overly tattooed zervien shot to his feet. The action sent the chair he’d been torturing careening backward and, frowning so tightly that the dark mass of brows seemed to be only one, he towered over the smaller grypal seated next to him. Like most of his race, he was not only tall but enormously muscled as well and the annoyance that radiated from him almost made him seem to grow larger yet. That he often chose to wear nothing but fur trimmed leather pants and supple black boots with massive weapons strapped to his back meant very few were foolish enough to challenge him. Those weapons were now perched next to the office door but, despite his size, he was also more than fast enough to reach them if need be. Clearly accustomed to using all this to intimidate, the fact that it wasn’t working so well at the moment only served to add to his irritation.

In stark contrast to the wild appearance of the zervien, the ebon skinned grypal was the picture of elegance and sophistication. Though tall for one of his race, Selac was still a good three heads shorter and considerably leaner than the giant of a man who was failing to frighten him. Where the zervien was bald, the grypal preferred to keep the silky black of his hair swept behind softly pointed ears and at a tidy shoulder length. Even his clothing spoke to his wealth and taste and, perhaps, a pretentious sense of entitlement. Though his pants were a simple black with gold accoutrements, the tunic was deeply purple and inset with intricate gold stitching and accessories. Black gloves draped over the arm of his chair and a purple and black cloak bearing the crest of his house, again in golden stitching, was folded neatly over the back of that chair.

Crossing one leg over the other, Selac shifted his calm, dark eyed gaze up toward the man glowering at him and tapped the index fingers of his steepled hands together. The zervien wasn’t the only one annoyed by the way this meeting was going but Selac was also damned if he would give any of them the slightest satisfaction of knowing just how much he wanted to incinerate them. One day yes, but today he kept his face quite carefully neutral and made no outward reaction to the outburst aimed at him. His lack of response only seemed to infuriate the giant man more and that, at least, gave the grypal some bit of pleasure.

Gentleman! Director Veenthar leaned forward to press the palms of his hands flat on the desk in front of him and glared at the two men. General, please sit down. Shouting will get nothing accomplished. The aging human had been listening to these two snipe at each other for the past twenty minutes and it was obvious he’d had quite enough. The grey in his dark beard matched the full grey of his chin length and thinning hair. Shifting impatient blue eyes toward the grypal he continued. As to who has what right to what action, Commissioner S’laith, that is precisely why we are here in the first place. At your bequest I might add.

Selac pulled his attention from the General and returned it to the Director. This was not going at all as he’d anticipated and he would have to alter his approach if he were to receive any kind of satisfaction. A repentant look played on his face and he reached to run long fingers through already tidy black hair. Taking a deep breath, he pointedly ignored the glowering General and nodded curtly toward the human. My apologies, Director, I had hoped reason might prevail but that seems to be fruitless in specific cases. Probably not the best thing he could have said but gratifying none the less.

General Tolco snorted, snatched at his wayward chair, and dropped heavily into it again. It groaned in protest but somehow managed to stay in one piece. Look Director, we were hired to protect that merchant and the items he was transporting. Specifically the family heirloom, He shot another glare at S’laith who simply waved a hand and set his mouth in a thin line. that was to be delivered to the patriarchal home. He sat back stretching one leg forward and bouncing the second impatiently. You know we’ve done business with this man before and you know he always pays very well. We can’t afford to lose his business to some fool notion….

Fool notion General? Selac sat forward, one slender brow arched and his hands dropping to his knees. Just as Tolco was accustomed to intimidating, Selac was accustomed to his words holding weight. To have it insinuated that he was foolish and stupid sent fire racing through his veins and his knuckles paled with the effort it took to keep his hands still. Threads of magic pulsed and writhed within reach and if the others in the room knew just how dangerous the grypal was at the moment, they gave no indication of it. I hardly think retrieving a stolen item, and a very expensive stolen item at that, counts as a ‘foolish notion’. He scowled darkly at Tolco then reached inside a coat pocket to pull out a neatly folded piece of paper. Leaning in, he unfolded it then slid the document across the desk stopping only when it was squarely in front of Veenthar. That would be the signed confession from the thief who’d been hired to steal it.

The Director’s eyes flicked down to study the paper and he lifted both brows at a dark splotch along the bottom edge. He refused to touch it. I can’t say I wish to know the methods used to obtain this and, unfortunately, there is no way to verify its validity. HOWEVER, he held up a hand at the protest on Selac’s face who had straightened to sit stiffly on the edge of his chair. However, I have separate reports that seem to indicate that the item in question did not, in fact, belong to the merchant. He paused and looked from one man to the other and shook his head. Be that as it may, General you will reprimand your Colonel as it was due to his hot headedness that the heirloom bowl was destroyed.

An odd look flashed over Selac’s face then disappeared again behind a smirk of satisfaction. The Director turned his head to study the Commissioner and frowned. And you will communicate to the department heads the next time you suspect a contract they are fulfilling may not be as it seems. I don’t want to see either of you in here again over something like this. We have enough problems without your petty bickering. Is that clear?

Both men scowled and nodded.

Good, now get out. I have other more pressing matters to look into.

Selac glared at Tolco’s look of annoyance but stayed seated as the General rose, tipping his chair over as he did. He made no attempt to pick it up and turned sharply on one foot to retrieve his weapons and stalk from the room. The grypal watched him go then swiveled his head to consider the Director once more. He opened his mouth and was met with a cold stare. Rage shot through him at the need to carry on this ruse of subservience but, again, he kept it carefully inside and off his features. He could not risk losing the status he’d obtained. At least not yet. Instead, he closed his mouth slowly without saying what he’d intended, gave a soft snort of disdain, and stood somewhat more calmly than the zervien. He reached for the paper but stopped when the Director placed a hand over it.

Leave it, Selac, and just go.

Director I won’t have my property stolen and let the deed go unpunished.

I’ve no doubt. Far be it from me to dictate to you how to handle the perpetrators of a crime in your own house. I would hope, however, that the punishment fits the act appropriately.

Indeed the dark man hooded his eyes, studied the human closely, tipped his head in farewell, then turned and made his own way from the Director’s office. Those that had scowled at Tolco as he passed scurried to get out of S’laith’s path and stayed well away from him. Most of them were inconsequential enough to slip beneath is notice but one fetching young girl wasn’t quite quick enough and the stack of papers she’d been carrying tipped and littered the floor in front of him. A flash of annoyance sparked in his dark eyes and he stopped, eyes narrowed, and watched as she snatched the wayward documents back into her arms. The scent of her anxiety teased and he clucked his tongue against his teeth then muttered just loud enough to ensure she could hear it. Proper training and a bit of discipline might become that one.

She looked up at him, eyes wide and face paling, as she snagged the last of the papers. One was just out of reach but she abandoned it and hopped backward to get clear of him. He watched her, eyebrows raised, and lips curling in an amused sneer. She was not, however, worth any more of his time and he shook his head in disgust as he swept past her. Thoughts of the problem at hand returned easily and within three strides the girl was already forgotten.

That bowl has been created to be a number of things and, among them, it should have been indestructible. And yet the Colonel had managed to destroy it beyond any hope of repair with the same ease with which one might shatter a frail wine glass. The fact that it had been Ijaka that had destroyed the thing only served to deepen Selac’s already dark mood. It had taken countless hours and weeks and failures to come to the final success of that bowl and there was no time to create another. His next window of opportunity to use it was a few scant weeks and the next might be years in the making. He scowled and mounted his horse, yanking the animal around and booted it into action. There was still the amulet and, while its usefulness was only a fraction of that of the bowl, maybe he could find a way to increase its power enough to gain a few more precious minutes when the time came.

The guards that had accompanied him on this trip found themselves hard pressed to keep up but he spared no thought for them. There was much to do and he needed to be home to do it. Magic crackled around his hands and he poured the gathered energy into his flagging animal to give it what it needed to keep up the pace. With every passing minute, his rage smoldered and by the time they arrived back at his estate the guards were staying well back to avoid being caught in it.

He pulled the horse to a stop and leapt off, striding forward even as it collapsed and died behind him. It mattered little. There were other horses and that one had not been the best of his herd. The gate to his garden flung itself open and he stormed through it, energy crackling again around his fingers. A blue bolt of pure anger lashed out and slammed into a nearby tree disintegrating it instantly. Residual magics spiraled away and all plant life within a twenty foot radius withered away as if it had never existed. A growl erupted from the man’s throat and he yanked his hand back to hold the now clinched fist near his face.

You’ve interfered for the last time, Colonel Ijaka. How is it you have managed to evade everything I’ve thrown at you? Managed to destroy something that could not be destroyed? The barked words pierced the silence around him and his eyes flashed red for a moment making his ebony face seem even darker.

He turned, cloak snapping behind him and stalked the distance back to the garden flanking his home. A servant rushed toward him, ready for any order and waited a respectful distance away. The grypal’s thoughts still raced and he snarled to himself, ignoring the servant’s cringe, removed the cloak and tossed it toward the man. The anxious servant caught the garment easily and scooted out of his Lord’s way.

Through the years, Ijaka had been a thorn in Selac’s side and he’d attempted to remove him on numerous occasions. Each attempt had failed badly and it galled him that one so inferior could somehow best him. Why was that damn katachi different than others of his kind and, more importantly, how? Every roadblock thrown at him was somehow circumvented or ignored completely and Selac wasn’t used to being denied. Dumb luck accounted for his success against early attempts. Experience and tactics others. The biggest mystery, however, was how he’d managed to shield against magical attempts no one else had ever been able to resist. Somehow the extraordinarily large katachi always managed to stand squarely in the way of the most vital of the grypal’s plans. Selac’s instinct now was to eliminate him using cruder and baser methods. His intellect and drive told him that would be a foolish move and it overruled instinct easily. No, it would be better to use this situation to work for him rather than against but therein was the problem. Just how might it be used? There had to be a way but, for now, it remained unresolved.

The dark man knew he had to change his approach and he pondered the how of it as he paced his garden. Perhaps it would prove useful to determine just what the differences were between this katachi and others he’d encountered. Was it physical or some other aspect of his being? Selac was nothing if not methodical and he had a penchant for research that just might be able to reveal some tidbit of information to the man. He stopped, thoughts spinning quickly now as he pondered how he might accomplish this without arousing suspicion. Nodding finally to himself, he turned toward the awaiting servant.

Contact Talmaril. Tell him I wish to meet him at Dhrean Tavern tomorrow at dusk. Tell him not to be late. I don’t have time for his usual games and I won’t like it if he tries to play them this time.

Yes m’Lord. The servant bowed and backed away, turning only when he reached the door and then rushing through as if his life depended on how quickly he moved. Perhaps it did. The whims of Lord S’laith were never easy to gauge and it was safer to just assume the worst.

Selac chuckled to himself as he watched the servant scurry away and ran a hand through the black waves of hair that stayed in that oddly neat pattern no matter what he did to it. His mood lightened now that a plan of action was forming and, along with it, the hatred for his enemy deepened to match the resolve for power that coursed through his veins.

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Sit, Colonel. Or are you just going to stand there all day ogling me?

Ijaka’s overly large frame blocked the doorway to the General’s office and his tail swung softly behind him as he frowned lightly at his superior. He was nearly as bulky as the zervien and, though it might not always seem that way, the Colonel held him in very high regard. What puzzled him now was the oddly amused undertone to Tolco’s voice that seemed out of place given the annoyed scowl on his face. This had to be about the incident with the bowl but he was damned if he could tell if the meeting had gone well or not. Well he certainly wasn’t going to find out this way and he shrugged, stepped in and pushed the door shut with one foot. Dropping easily onto a chair with an open back, he curled his tail along a back leg and crossed his arms over the white patch of a chest clad only in his own dark orange tiger striped fur. Years of fighting with fists and feet made Colonel Ijaka an imposing figure in his own right. Claws and very sharp teeth added to his daunting presence and most who would oppose him generally thought twice.

The General seemed less than impressed. Nothing to say for yourself, Ijaka?

An ear twitched. Outside of the fact that S’laith is up to his tricks again and it’s incredibly fun to bait him? No. What did the Director have to say?

Tolco snorted, leaned back in a chair that didn’t squeak in protest, and glared at the other man. What you expected him to say I’d wager. Look, it’s bad enough we’ve got to butt heads against Clandestine as often as we do. I’d appreciate it if you’d be a little more circumspect in your actions.

The katachi shrugged, gave the other man an emerald look, and made no attempt to hide his own amusement. All I did was put my foot down. Stretching one burgundy clad leg in front of him, he lounged back, wiggled his foot, and let it thud back to the floor.

On top of the damn bowl that’s the center of this mess!

Ijaka couldn’t hide the grin now and he crossed his hands behind his head. Yeah…who knew the thing’d break so easily? That was all it took and the tension in the room melted when both men began laughing. Selac was, admittedly, Ijaka’s favorite target and he’d been told more than once that baiting him was moronically stupid. The truth was he was intimidated by the grypal though he kept those reasons well-guarded. Men like S’laith could sniff out weakness and fear and the best way to counter that was to be aggressively the opposite. Outside of that, the katachi’s pride was too large and to acknowledge such a weakness was to bring forward a past he’d so doggedly buried. It was probably why he went to such lengths to make Selac’s life as miserable as he could but it was a fine line to walk and sometimes, like this time, he crossed it.

The laughter died almost as soon as it started and Ijaka shifted forward. There were a great many things about which he was curious and it was time to get serious. Silencing him before he could say anything, the General snapped a completely unexpected question.

How do you feel about horses, Colonel?

The question made Ijaka blink and it made him forget whatever it was he’d been about to ask. Whiskers twitching in confusion, he leaned his elbows on his knees, and peered at the zervien curiously. Excuse me?

Tolco crossed his arms over his massive chest and smirked. Did I stutter, Colonel? Are those cat ears of yours going deaf? Here, let me make this clearer for you. I want you to tell me exactly how much you like or dislike horses. You know?Large animals with hooves?

The katachi growled softly, the tip of his tail swishing in irritation. I heard the question and you damn well know the answer. He had no idea why he was being asked this and he glared at the General suspiciously.

Then stop pussy footing around it and tell me. I don’t want to hear anything else come out of your mouth.

Ijaka muttered something then snarled softly at the look of warning on the General’s face. There had to be a point to this and he knew he’d only find out if he played along. Fine!I think they’re big smelly shit machines that have the brain of a flea. I’d just as soon eat one as look at it. Happy now?

He was met with a snorted laugh and a shake of the General’s head. Nope. Not quite. Tell me, how many do you estimate the Syndicate stables?

You have to be kidding me!

All amusement fled from Tolco’s face and he narrowed his eyes in a pointed expression. Hardly, Colonel.Just answer the damn question or I’ll be adding a demotion to this.

Ijaka blinked and stared. Both men watched the other silently. He was to be reprimanded and was being given a choice in what the punishment would be. It would almost be amusing if it wasn’t so insulting. Ah. Is that what this is about? His fur bristled slightly and