Shield's Lady

contents,” Rakken said quietly.
    Sariana looked up sharply. “The technology? Why?”
    “I want to see if it bears any resemblance to the technology of this room or the technology of the crystal ship. Do you realize that if the legends are even somewhat true then Shields are not like the rest of us, Sariana? They may be more closely related to the beings who built the prisma ships than they are to you and me. Those kits may hold the key to figuring out just who and what they are. I have tried very hard to open that one and I haven’t put so much as a scratch on its surface. The lock is sealed, even to Targyn. Using you as a threat, I might be able to persuade Chassyn to open it, but it would probably be simpler if you did the job.”
    “All this talk of aliens makes me nervous,” Sariana said with a faint shudder. But she didn’t take her eyes off the kit.
    “I agree,” Rakken murmured. “But it is better to be prepared for anything. We are taking some grave risks, my dear. We need to know as much as possible about what’s going on. The Shields keep entirely too many secrets. The weapon kits are one of these secrets. Open it.”
    Gryph watched Sariana slowly pull the bag toward herself. He concentrated on projecting the image of the small knife and how it could be palmed. At the same time he readied himself for whatever small disturbance he could cause. His fingers closed around his bottle of ale.
    With a wary glance at Gryph, Sariana touched the prisma lock. Gryph could feel her concentrating. Opening the kit was still far from second nature to her. She was a little afraid of it.
    Sariana licked her lower lip, touched the prisma once more very delicately and the kit yawned open under her fingers.
    Gryph jerked his hand and the bottle of ale turned over with a loud clatter on the metal surface of the table. Automatically, Rakken glanced over at the toppled bottle. Simultaneously Lucky appeared from the folds of Sariana’s skirts and skittered frantically around the table, small claws making tiny scratching sounds.
    “In the name of the Lightstorm, where did that damn lizard come from?” Rakken made a grab for Lucky who nimbly hopped back into Sariana’s lap and vanished into a pocket.
    “It’s okay, that’s just Lucky, my pet scarlet-toe. You saw it once before in Serendipity, remember?” Sariana patted her pocket protectively. “Sorry about that. It usually stays in my pocket, but I think it’s nervous right now. Lucky’s been through a lot recently.”
    “Well, keep him or it out of the way,” Rakken said grimly as he eagerly reached for the open kit and pulled it toward him.
    “I’d be careful putting my hand in there if I were you,” Gryph said in mild warning as he laboriously tried to mop up spilled ale.
    Rakken looked up, startled at the thought of a trap. Then he pushed the kit toward Sariana. “Empty the contents onto the table,” he commanded.
    Sariana shrugged and turned the kit upside down. A variety of small gadgets fell out. Gryph studied them intently. The palm blade was not among them. He allowed himself a measure of hope.
    Rakken poked cautiously through the items on the table. He picked up the tiny vapor lamp and flicked it on, but he didn’t figure out the second switch that ignited the blinding flare of vapor. Next he fiddled with a small gadget that opened without any warning and revealed a set of tiny disks. The edge of each disk was very sharp. Gryph felt some satisfaction when Rakken accidentally cut his finger on one.
    “What are those damn things?” Rakken demanded in disgust as he quickly bound up his bleeding finger in a small scarf.
    “Throwing blades,” Gryph explained easily. “One of the metal working clans make them for us.”
    Rakken glared at him and went on to the next gadget. Carefully he experimented with one cleverly designed implement after another, but in the end he jumped to his feet in irritation and began pacing the room.
    “There’s nothing in that kit that couldn’t have been made by local craftsmen,” he complained.
    “What did you expect?” Gryph asked calmly. “Local talent is all any of us have to work with. We’re all stuck on this planet together, Rakken. That’s something Targyn seems to have forgotten, but the rest of us haven’t.”
    “Never mind,” Rakken said as he strode back to the table. “I thought there might be something useful in there because you damn Shields are so protective of the kits. But the lock is