Raised to Kill

“From your mouth to the Goddess’s ear,” Brand muttered as he followed Sylvan out of the shuttle.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Allara was in trouble and he was desperate to get to her.

Thirty-Nine

“Well, you’re in pretty good shape for a male who had a deflated lung just a few hours ago.” Olivia shook her head and put away the hand-scanner she’d been using on Brand’s chest. “Kindred medical technology never ceases to amaze me. If you’d gotten a pneumothorax down on Earth, you would have had a chest tube in for weeks.”

“So I can go? I can get Allara?” Brand asked anxiously. All during the exam, his feeling of worry and dread for his wife had been growing. Allara needed him—he could feel it. He had to get to her as soon as possible!

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re good to go,” Olivia told him. “But I think you’d better wait and see what Sylvan has to say.”

“I say he needs to go as soon as possible.” Sylvan came back into the room, a grave look on his face. “I’m sorry, Brand, but I couldn’t get her back,” he said.

“Why? Where is she? What happened to her?” Brand was practically dancing with impatience to be gone. He didn’t care that he was barefoot and the only thing he had on were the blood-stained sleep trousers he’d been wearing the night before—he needed to get to Allara!

“I’m afraid she’s going to be in today’s bride auction at the Q’ess space port,” Sylvan said, frowning. “And it’s about to start, so you’ll need to get there quickly if you want to bid on her.”

“A bride auction?” Brand was horrified. Though he knew from the remarks that Allara had made that the Q’ess sent all their young women to be auctioned off when they came to be of marriageable age, the idea of Allara standing on a block while strange males from all over bid on her was terrible!

“I’m afraid so. It’s a blind auction,” Sylvan added.

“Meaning that all the bidders submit written bids simultaneously and the high bid wins?” Olivia asked.

“I believe so, but I’m not sure and the Q’ess I talked to did not elaborate,” Sylvan said.

“But…then how can I tell if I’m bidding enough?” Brand asked desperately. “What can I do? I have a little credit saved but I don’t know how much brides cost among the Q’ess!”

“Spend whatever you have to,” Sylvan said firmly. “The High Council will cover it.”

“Oh, but, Commander, it might run into the millions of credits!” Brand protested but Sylvan shook his head.

“It’s my fault for entertaining the Q’ess proposal to marry one of our High Council members to one of their females in the first place,” he said. “You never would have lost your heart—or been stabbed in the lung—if I had simply sent their messenger away with a refusal of their offer.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Brand said fiercely. “I don’t care what happened between us, I still love Allara. I can only hope she feels the same for me.”

“I’m sure she does,” Olivia said gently. She frowned. “But you can’t go looking like that. You’re barefoot and you’ve got blood all over your sleep trousers—you need to change.”

“He can’t go looking like a Kindred at all,” Sylvan commanded. “We are still their mortal enemies. They won’t even let him land at their one space port.”

“True…” Brand ran his hands through his hair. “What can I do?”

“Why don’t you pose as a Havoc merchant?” Olivia suggested. “They’re genetic cousins to the Kindred and they look like Kindred but I bet the Q’ess don’t have anything against them.”

“An excellent idea, Olivia.” Sylvan nodded. “Would you ask Kat to simulate some Havoc clothing for Brand? Preferably something that hides his face.”

“We can do that.” Olivia got back on her communications device and Brand heard her telling Kat exactly what they needed.

“As for the ship, we’ll paint some Havoc markings on it directly,” Sylvan said to him. “And then it’s up to you to make them believe you’re just a merchant looking to bid on a bride.”

“Thank you, Sylvan.” Brand said gratefully.

“Don’t thank me.” Sylvan shook his head. “It’s my fault she came here in the first place, and my fault she was sent away. I’ll never forgive myself if this ends badly, Brand.”

“It won’t end badly,” Brand growled, lifting his chin. “I’ll get her back or die trying, as the Goddess is my witness.”

Forty

“Stand at the ready! Your time of marriage is near!” The barking voice belonged to the Song Mistress of the Space Port Song House. Though women were not allowed to be Song Leaders, the Mistresses were still powerful people. They undertook the general work and duties of the Song House so that the male Song Leaders could be free to conduct ceremonies.