Warp World Read Free

unease and contempt.
    “Get to the part about the women and the drink!” Viren shouted to Seg. The chamber echoed with Kenda laughter.
    Seg scowled but did not respond. Ama stifled a smile. If it had come from any other man, Seg might have laughed as well, but Viren had gotten under his skin from their first meeting, when he and his partner, Prow, had attempted to drug and rob him.
    Ama regarded the Kenda more closely, now that the alarm had diminished. They were not precisely the band of warriors Seg or Brin had hoped for.
    There was a small contingent who had fought at the Alisir temple with Seg’s people and, later, helped storm the Secat to free the Kenda prisoners there. These men sported bandaged limbs, their clothes were torn and bloodied, and dark circles ringed sleepless eyes. Yet, no matter how fatigued and wounded they were, a good meal, a visit from a healer, and a full night’s sleep would soon set these men right.
    A larger number, however, would need more time and care to heal. These were former prisoners of the Secat, who had been freed from a life of horror and neglect only that morning. Their dull gray prison uniforms hung loose on their frames, giving them the appearance of children playing dress-up, but their hollow eyes and sunken cheeks made it clear that once those same uniforms must have fit well, even snugly. They scratched at parasites that crawled in their hair and on their skin. Fresh wounds and old scars stood out, silent testament to the brutality the prisoners had endured at the hands of their Damiar guards.
    Scattered among the fifty were a few who were not yet bearded and some others with a noticeable portion of white or gray in their chin whiskers. Too young and too old.
    A Westie crew , Ama’s father would have called these Kenda. Boat captains in the Western Islands of her world were known for hiring bedraggled and sea-worn crewmen, in the name of saving a coin or two.
    “We’ve arrived,” Seg said when the men had quieted. “As I have explained, these processors must cleanse you before we move you into your new home. That will require—” He paused for the slightest moment. “—removing your clothes.”
    As Seg spoke, the auto-med hooked to his arm chimed, its pulsing tone ringing out across the silent room. The men muttered again at this bit of magic. With a look to the sleeve, Seg waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing, pay it no mind.”
    As if answering him, the sleeve chimed again, a sequenced, continuous beeping. An orange alert flashed on its screen, synchronous with the beeps.
    He was overdoing it. His body needed more medical attention than the auto-med could provide.
    He stabbed his fingers at the sleeve. Red, blue, then amber lights flashed in protest as the machine keened at him, and the screen finally went dark.
    Ama frowned but he avoided her gaze.
    “You will unclothe and let these people … cleanse you,” Seg continued. He paused, looked to the white-suits then back to the Kenda. Ama could see he was drawing on some memory.
    “No hurt white clothes people,” he said to the men, in his broken Kenda.
    “Unless I authorize it,” he added, in the common tongue.
    He looked from man to man, let them feel the weight of the moment. “White clothes people hurt Kenda,” he said and pointed at the group, “yes, hurt back.”
    The white-suits looked to each other as Seg spoke a language their chatterers had not been programmed to translate.
    “Ama is in charge of you for now, until I return. She speaks with my voice. Understood?” Seg said, using the common tongue once more.
    Under normal circumstances, the Kenda would never submit to a female leader, even temporarily. But any resentment was quickly dispelled as men pointed to her newly revealed dathe—the slits of skin on her neck that marked her as unique among her kind. Kiera Nen , they murmured and nodded, some with obvious reverence.
    “White clothes people say question,” Seg went on, in Kenda, his