Magus Star Rising
Chapter Twenty Eight

A moment’s indecision can lose the Way.

THE SCROLLS OF VANERA

Opportunity

Ladora entered the Honin-Zay house through the servant’s door, flushed and on-edge. Curse these split shifts! She thought as she placed her hand in the palm-lock. It’s bad enough to have to come in so early but to return later! Especially during Festival. Pah!

She unwrapped the shawl from around her face and hurried through the hallway. The camera-eyes would record her haste and nervous manner but she could explain that away easily enough. She was good at lying.

Usually she would flirt with the guard on-duty outside but she had no time for that now. A kiss blown at Nareed would have to suffice for tonight even though he had seemed anxious to get her attention, calling to her and motioning to her to join him in his guardhouse. One night, she thought. And he thinks I’m his. Typical!

She had stayed a little later at the bar than she had intended. Meeting the Puman there had been a surprise, an uncomfortable one at first. Had he been in the relocation camps? Might he have recognized her across the span of countless seasons?

She doubted the odds in favor of that but her own participation in the camps, however minor, jolted her memory. She realized that part of her childhood had affected her every moment since.

Never mind, she thought. That is over and done with. I have no problem with who I am. Still, I wonder what the Puman wanted with the Terran. Ladora brushed her hand against the folds of her sash where the beam-pistol the Voofran had sold her lay hidden. She had decided to purchase the small but efficient weapon after the meeting with Denelle. To give herself an added edge. Just in case. It never hurt to be too careful.

She thought of Marcus Honin-Zay. Yes, the master could be trouble but she had always been able to coerce men, no matter their station in life. Careful, she cautioned herself. You’re to be the on your best behavior. At least for a while.

She had returned to assist Behoola in welcoming Mistress Honin-Zay home. When I am Head Server, she thought. I will make my Second perform such boring duties. She laughed softly then at that thought as she conjured an image of her in power. No, not Head Server but head of the household. As Denelle had told her, she must look for an opportunity.

She walked into the servant’s lounge, a small room really, where the staff congregated during whatever breaks they incurred. Where is everyone? Ladora thought. It was highly unusual for no one to be about although, lately, the mistress had given the staff some time off. Was this too such a time? Maybe that was what Nareed had wanted to tell her.

She took off her outer wrap, hung it up on the wall peg and walked back out into the hallway. As she passed the kitchen’s open door, she noticed something unusual out of the corner of her eye.

Something dark and viscous seemed to be pooling on the floor underneath the far wooden storage cupboard. What is that? Ladora wondered as she walked into the kitchen. It looks like...

Her breath caught in her throat. It looked like blood. Slowly, she approached the cupboard, instinctively gripping the beam-pistol. A slowly spreading pool of crimson seemed to be leaking from the cupboard itself. A bead of the rich fluid dripped from the corner of the storage bin.

Ladora watched it fall, almost hypnotized by the movement and the sound. She had seen blood and death and sickness before. In some ways it no longer affected her, much like the attacking Apen had simply aroused her curiosity. She knew she was much too good for this job, this household. She was destined for greater things. Working for the Honin-Zays had simply been a way to get off the streets for a time, to regroup, to plan her next move. It was long past time to put Denelle’s “prophecy” into motion.

What was she waiting for?

She pulled the beam-pistol from her sash and yanked open the door.

Terenio, she thought, her heart thumping. It’s Terenio.

The cook’s Second was dead, his throat slashed from ear to ear. He had been stuffed naked into the cupboard like an old, used leaf doll.

Ladora stepped back, paused, and then turned and closed the kitchen door. She leaned against it, breathing heavily. What has happened? she thought, her eyes darting back and forth. Terenio dead? Where’s Marka?

“Ladora? Are you there?”

She jumped at the house-com’s blaring. “Ladora. This is Nareed. Answer please.”

Ladora caught her breath, walked to the corner where the inset wall com-unit rested, and flicked on the response key. “Yes. What is it?”

“There you are.” The voice had a slight slur to it as if the speaker had been drinking. “Why did you ignore me outside? Don’t you like me anymore?”

“Nareed. I...”

A short laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m just teasing. Listen, Behoola left just a short while ago. She told me to look out for you. None of the servants are needed again tonight. Mistress’ orders. Go home or, if you’d like, you can keep me company. I’m going to the Yharria. It is Festival, you know.”

“Not tonight, lover,” Ladora said, recovering somewhat as she continued to stare at the bloody floor. “I have some unfinished business to attend to now since I don’t have to work.”

“Oh, yes? What’s his name?”

Ladora managed thin smile. Kazrah. “None of your business, my boy. But tell me, has anyone else been to the house tonight? Any visitors? Is the Master here?”

“No. Only the Mistress and her Shadow, Kazrah. The Master is out, as usual. I’ll be on duty out here until early-moon. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just curious. I’ll be off then. Sleep well, lover.”

Ladora strode to the rear kitchen door and locked it. Moving quickly, she lowered the oil-globes’ intensities, pitching the kitchen into a murky light. She then rechecked the beam-pistol and slipped it once more among the folds of her sash. Taking one last look around the darkened room, she locked the main kitchen door from the inside and stepped out into the hall.

Kazrah killed Terenio, she thought, glancing down both ends of the hallway. I’m sure of it! I’ve always thought he was more than he seemed, even for a bodyguard.

Instinctively, her hand brushed against the hidden pistol. She smiled. Well, Shadow, she thought, we need to have a little talk. I couldn’t get anything out of the Puman but you may be the opportunity I’ve been looking for.