To Storm Heaven - Esther Friesner [89]
“My legs! What have they done to my legs?” one panic-stricken member of the Masra’et cried.
“And mine, curse you!” another shouted at the Ashkaarians. “Release us at once, or—” He reached for the flimsy dagger at his belt. It was a poor cousin to the businesslike blade Bilik held under Geordi’s chin, most likely intended just for show and ceremony, but the Ashkaarians did not see it that way. To them, the intent of attack was as good as the act. One of them raised his hand and the belligerent Ne’elatian suddenly found his arms made as useless as his legs.
As for Udar Kishrit, he appeared to be struggling with an invisible assailant, one who first pushed his arms down to his sides, then forced him back into his place by inches, the Ne’elatian headman bawling his indignation all the while.
As further bellows of outrage arose from Legate Valdor and the members of the Masra’et, it became apparent that their vocal capabilities remained untouched by the power of the Na’amOberyin. It was, Picard reflected, like being held captive in a wizard’s lair, surrounded by semi-animate statues. Loud ones.
The one exception to the selective paralysis upon them was Mr. Data. Whether it was Bilik alone or the powers of the nine combined with his, the android remained unaffected. However, when he attempted to rise from his place at the conference table, Bilik uttered a warning hiss and twitched his dagger ever so slightly against Geordi’s skin, just enough to draw a thin trickle of blood.
“Bilik, no.r’ Ma’adrys cried, and stretched out her hands.
“Stay back,” Bilik commanded. “For the safety of your own spirit, Ma’adrys, keep away from this demon. You have been led astray by these false ones for too long. You are too tender hearted, and Yaro’s children speak with words of honey and voices of sweet song.” “Geordi is no demon,” Ma’adrys said staunchly.
“It is you who have been led astray by Yaro if you think that. How much farther down the dark road will you follow?” “Is such precaution necessary, Bilik oberyin?” asked one of the other nine dark-robed Ashkaarians, eying Geordi. His beard was copiously streaked with gray and covered most of his chest. A silver sigil pinned to his robe marked him out among his peers.
“If it is as Ma’adrys says, can you not release this captive?” “I would not trust him, Nish na’am,” Bilik snarled.
“He is deceit itself.” “Nish na’am!” Captain Picard’s powerful voice drew every eye to him. “Mr. La Forge is a Starfleet officer and I am his commander. Have Bilik oberyin release him and you have my word as well as his that he will offer you no opposition.” Nish na’am appeared to consider the captain’s words. “Perhaps this one is right, Bilik oberyin,” he said. “This chamber is already thick with the nets of holding and can contain precious little more. Trust is well named as the fifth moral treasure. A word well given can restrain an army. Besides,” he peered closely at the immobilized Klingon, “you, too, know how strong this one was to resist us. Even now—” “They are all the children of lies, Nish na’am,” Bilik said hastily. “We can not be too careful. What do they know or care about the six moral treasures?
Trust none of them.” “Not even me, Bilik?” Ma’adrys glared at him.
“Not even when I speak hari’imash in his name?” The alien word brought a great silence down upon the Ashkaarians in the room. The color fled from Bilik’s face and the hand holding the knife to Geordi’s throat slowly fell to his side, though Geordi himself still remained unable to take a single step away from his captor. “Do you, Ma’adrys?” Bilik asked in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. “Willingly.” “But I never intended to kill—” “Silence.” Nish na’am raised his hands. The silver sigil on his robes seemed to glow with his power to command. “Intentions are blown seed pods. She has spoken hari’imash and spoken it willingly. The sacrifice is offered, made, accepted. So let it be. Release him.” Reluctantly, Bilik stepped away from his prisoner.
Geordi shook himself like a wet dog, as if casting off the remnants of some