by J. S. Fields
Corccinth narrowed her eyes, and Atalant looked away. It wasn’t worth arguing over.
“We’re not actually going in through the kitchens then?” Nicholas asked. “That would have to be the busiest part of the castle, I’d think.”
Corccinth shook her head. A tall Ardulan barreled towards the tiny woman, but then sidestepped at the last minute. Atalant caught the confusion on his face as his foot landed apparently not where he had planned and his packages smacked against his leg. Corccinth sniffed and looked up at Nicholas. “Hall is near but not. Turn left upon entry and follow past door to throne room. End door is Emn and Eld.”
A heavy-set gatoi bumped into Atalant from behind. With her equilibrium still shaky, she fell against Nicholas, who managed to keep her from landing on the wood path.
“You sure you’re up for this, Atalant?” he asked seriously. “I could probably manage a rescue with Corccinth here. The palace layout doesn’t sound complicated.”
“No!” Corccinth slapped at the back of Nicholas’s leg. He jumped away and eyed her warily. “I don’t go in. I have old business.” She hefted the baskets and gestured towards the north edge of the market.
“Corccinth—” Atalant began, but Corccinth cut her off, pointing a powdered finger up at Atalant and then to a group of people a few meters away.
“You have to heal the wound, Neek, not me. But I have some who may help. Wait.”
“Yeah, fine.” Atalant retreated again. The crowd around them continued to thin, and the walls of the palace became readily visible.
“So when should we—” She looked down, but Corccinth had disappeared into the crowd. Atalant turned to where the small woman had pointed and saw four people bent over and speaking to Corccinth. Atalant bobbed her head around weaving bodies blocking her line of sight and caught glimpses of Corccinth’s hair, her clothing, and her baskets. The contents were being emptied and placed into pockets. There was hugging. Rolled up biofilm exchanged hands. A large man stepped right in front of Atalant to ask Nicholas for directions, realized Nicholas wasn’t an Ardulan, and walked off in a huff. When Atalant looked back to where Corccinth was, the woman was gone.
The group that had been with her, however, were coming towards them. They all wore the same cream-colored shirts and pants, and their feet were clad in brown leather. As they approached, pockets bulging with Corccinth’s gifts, Atalant could see makeup on their faces, hands, and necks. Sweat beaded near their temples, clumping the fine powder and unmistakably identifying the four as flares.
Atalant motioned to the south side of the square, where a thick clump of andal grew around two long benches. The area was deserted and therefore semiprivate.
“Flares, then?” Nicholas asked as he followed Atalant to the benches.
“Hope so.”
There wasn’t any time left to speculate. When the two turned around, the flares were just behind them. The one in front, a male with green eyes, searched Atalant’s face. She returned the fascination, unable to look away from the two upside-down triangle marks insufficiently covered by the makeup and visible from a short distance.
“Are you with Corccinth?” Atalant asked. Her arm came up unbidden from her side to touch the flare’s cheek. She checked herself before her hand was past her hip and clasped both hands behind her back instead.
“Yes. She asked us to meet you. You and the Terran named Nicholas.” The man offered a small smile. “I’m Arik, and this is Tik, Kisak, and Ukie.”
“Why—” Nicholas began, but Atalant cut him off.
“You’re the flares Emn went to see, aren’t you?”
At the mention of Emn’s name, the group collectively relaxed. The woman pushed forward. Makeup had crumbled into her loose hair, streaking it brown. “You’ve seen Emn since her return?”
“No.” Again, the triangles on her face were visible this close, even under the powder, and again Atalant caught herself trying to reach out. She crossed her arms over her chest and told them to stay there. “She’s in the palace in the east wing. The Eld have cut off our connection. We’re going in to get her. I think… I think you’re supposed to help.”
Arik barked a laugh and then covered his mouth with the inside of his arm when Atalant scowled at him. “Corccinth was very light on details, as if expecting us to shut up and follow her lead. As if we owe her something. As if she controls us.” He wiped sweat from his brow, and the sleeve came away white with powder. “Apologies, Neek, but the business with the Eld does not concern you. We will be taking the palace, with Emn’s help, momentarily. She doesn’t need rescue, and your presence could put Emn in danger. Stay away. Emn will find you when she has finished her tasks and the Eld are quieted.”
“Are you serious?”
Atalant had had enough. She’d lost her settee, her homeworld, and her connection to Emn, and there was no way she was going to sit back while a bunch of idiots manipulated Emn into overthrowing a government. If she was telepathically mute, then she couldn’t broadcast or be read by the flares fast enough. Smug in that knowledge, Atalant threw a punch right at Arik’s nose.
The sound of cracking cartilage was instantaneous and was followed by maroon blood. Nicholas pulled Atalant back before she could manage another swing, but when the other flares went for her, Arik held them back. “Stay out of our way, Neek,” he warned in a nasally tone. “I’ll not be responsible for your safety if you enter the palace.”
“What exactly do you think you will accomplish by storming in there?” Atalant demanded as she struggled against Nicholas’s desperate grip.
“Atalant,” Nicholas begged, “Corccinth asked them to help us for a reason. We should remain civil and find common ground.” Atalant ignored him.
“Can you hear her?” Atalant yelled. “If she is with the Eld now and you storm in there, what happens to her?” She jerked out of Nicholas’s grip and stood nose-to-nose with Arik, her hands clenched into fists. “You’re a child playing revolutionary.” She pointed to the palace. “They’re Eld. They’re not going to listen to some escapees from a prison, especially not ones that break into their home.”
Tik moved next to Arik and put a hand on his shoulder. Arik tried to shove him off, but Tik held tightly. “She’s right, Arik,” he said in a low tone. “They probably won’t give her a long leash. Now they have something we value, and we have nothing. They certainly know we are coming. We need to balance the scales before we head in.”
Arik stepped back. His face and the front of his tunic were stained with blood, and his jaw was clenched tightly shut. He kept his eyes locked on Atalant’s. “Did you have something in mind?”
“The crowd.” The gravelly voice of Kisak came up from the back. The—Atalant assumed—gatoi limped to Arik and then pointed at the marketplace. “We have the shoppers.”
Nicholas pushed past Atalant, his face angrier than she had ever seen before. “These are your people.” He said each word deliberately, as if that would help Kisak better understand. “They’re innocent.”
Kisak reached up and slapped Nicholas. Stunned, the Journey youth teetered on his feet, eyes wide. Atalant rounded on Kisak, but the gatoi held zir hands up. “We’re all innocent here, Terran. Hard lessons have to be taught today. Grow up.”
“It’s a good idea,” Ukie said. “They don’t have to be hurt, necessarily, but riling them up would work.” She eased up next to Kisak and nodded her head at Atalant. “Emn wouldn’t want you getting hurt, Atalant, but from what she has told us about you, you’ll not step away from this. If you stay out of our way, we will stay out of yours. Will you agree to that?” Ukie eyed Nicholas. “If we promise only to agitate?”
Atalant clasped Nicholas’s hand and dragged the youth back behind her. He dragged his heels, and she could feel the tenseness in his muscles. Nicholas had never flat-out hit anyone, she was sure, but given much more of this conversation, he was likely to. Hitting Arik had not been the best example. Their fight wasn’t with the flares, and as much as she disagree
d with instigating a mob, she’d done the same in the past. Besides, their chances of sneaking into the palace unnoticed increased significantly with that level of diversion.
“Agreed,” Atalant said. “But when we find Emn, she’s coming with us.”
“Atalant!” Nicholas hissed.
“I think that is her decision to make, not yours, Atalant,” Ukie returned. “We’ll see what happens when the time comes.”
EMN SCREAMED INTO the silence in her head. She wanted to run at the Eld, but her feet were too heavy. She wanted to yell, but her tongue was too thick in her mouth. Sounds died in her throat. Death had come between her and Atalant once before, and it’d not stopped them. Emn just had to get out of the palace, away from the Eld so she could find the pilot and fix whatever was wrong.
A loud voice cut through her thoughts. You will sit down! You will obey. Asth stared at her, but her lips did not move. Emn would have sent every pot in the room at the eld then if she’d been able. But she did not obey. That time was behind her—Emn would not let it return.
“Sit,” Adzeek ordered coolly, all traces of friendliness gone. “There are rules on Ardulum. If you wish to join this planet, you must learn to obey them.”
Emn tore into the Eld’s minds. I didn’t come here to obey, I came here to find my home. This— She sent an image of the palace. —is not my home. Ardulans who control others, who lock away those different from themselves out of fear, are not my people. She resisted the pressure in her mind now telling her to walk closer to the Eld. You fear me. I may not be able to feel your emotions, but I can see it in your eyes. I’ve done nothing to you, but if you have hurt my friends, if you have hurt Atalant… Emn lowered her tone and sent detailed images directly at the Eld. I will destroy you.
Asth rolled her eyes, but the set of her mouth spoke of tension. She looked at Adzeek. “Who is Atalant?”
“The Neek she keeps whining about. Emn came with some Charted Systems inhabitants—a Neek and a human.”
“She couldn’t have bonded with one of the more competent subspecies? Even a Keft would be better than a Neek.”
“Agreed,” Adzeek replied. “Conveniently, they were part of the tour this morning, so we have their images, and they’ve still got their passports on, though the Neek seemed to think swapping clothing with the flare would go unnoticed. The films track genetic makeup for a reason. A few moments ago, I heard from the kitchen staff on the comm. They’re back now—came in the east door and are lurking in the hall, heading south. They know where they’re going.”
“Corccinth?” Asth asked.
Adzeek nodded. “Likely.”
Asth looked pointedly at Emn. She chewed her lower lip and stared, unblinking. “Just have the guards lock the doors that connect to the east hall. It’s a long corridor, but easy enough to contain,” she said finally. “It will slow them down long enough for us to find separate places to hold them. Corccinth had best know what she is doing. A Neek. Seriously.” Asth stood and moved briskly to the door. “You will come with me, Emn. Since you do not want to cooperate, we will move you to different facilities that are better suited to your condition until we are confident in your control. Follow.”
Emn’s feet began to move, trailing after Asth. Atalant and Nicholas were in the palace. Her mind processed the information while she continued to pull against the Eld’s control. That meant Atalant wasn’t dead, just… Emn didn’t know what. Altered in some way? Had the Eld interfered with their bond?
“Wait a moment,” Adzeek called out as Asth pushed the door open. “We have an unforeseen problem.”
Asth turned back around. The rigidity slipped from Emn’s body as Asth’s mind connected with Adzeek’s. Asth moved back into the room, past Emn, and took Adzeek by the hand. They bowed their heads together. Asth’s face turned ashen. This time, it was the Eld who leaked.
Flares…
Idiots, Emn spat to herself. While her limbs were still locked, the inattention had freed her Talents. She pulled at the floorboards without preamble, binding cellulose into thick cords. Not waiting to see if the Eld would react, Emn pushed at their minds, hoping to disable them enough to escape.
She was unprepared for the images they projected in return. Instead of fighting, the Eld invited her in, linked her to their collective consciousness. She saw the square just outside the palace’s main doors. It was quieter than it had been in the morning, but some fifty people still milled around the stalls. In the center of the square stood the four flares. Emn watched with horrified fascination as they began to wipe at the makeup covering their skin. Ukie brought the bottom of her shirt up—exposing her bare, marked skin—and rubbed the cotton over her face. Tik grabbed a canister of water and a dish cloth from a shopkeeper, wet the cloth, and then washed his hands and face. He handed the smeared cloth to Arik and Kisak, who did the same.
Why… Emn wondered across the link. To not hide, yes, but in the square…
The shoppers stopped. Stared and whispered. Somewhere outside of Emn’s view, a child began to cry. The gawkers surrounded the flares in a ring, but Arik corralled them back and worked his way to the palace steps. The others followed and stood behind him in a semicircle.
“We are flares!” Arik boomed across the marketplace. Murmuring met the declaration as the vendors abandoned their stalls and gathered with the crowd. “We were taken from our families! Held in captivity! Told to hide who we are. No longer!” He took the canister of water and poured the remains over his head. The remaining makeup ran off his face and dripped onto his shirt in scaly patches.
A hush fell across the crowd. From the back, a female voice called out. “Call the medics!”
Sorrow filled Emn, but it was so deep that she doubted it was entirely hers.
“The people don’t understand,” Asth said, her voice tired and too loud in Emn’s ears. “And the flares don’t know any better.”
Emn watched two Ardulans in medical uniforms push to the front of the crowd. They had been shopping—Emn saw the bags in their hands, which they dropped upon getting a full view of the flares.
“You…” the shorter one said, his voice stuttering. “You shouldn’t be here. Come with me, now. You can’t—you shouldn’t touch the palace. You…you could contaminate it.”
“Contaminate it?” A man standing nearby looked aghast and then started to shout back into the crowd. “It’s contagious! The mutations are contagious! They’re desecrating the Eld Palace!”
“We are not sick!” Arik yelled. The people were moving now, pushing one another. Some were trying to leave the square, but others jostled forward, towards the steps of the palace. The medics were pulled back into the people, their bags left behind. Taunts streamed up from the mob.
“They’ll infect the Eld! Kill them! Save the Eld!”
“Save our children!”
“We are your children!” Arik shouted in return, his voice increasingly shrill. “We deserve rights!”
“You threaten the Eld. You deserve death!” A woman in the very front of the crowd leapt at Arik and grabbed his arm. She pulled, and Arik tumbled from the stairs into the surging crowd. Tik jumped down, punched the woman and a man trying to pin Arik to the ground, and hauled Arik back up. Five more Ardulans were on them again, dragging the men back down.
“Inside!” Tik shouted. “Now!”
Ukie and Kisak turned and ran. Tik pulled cellulose from the nearest stall. The wooden structure collapsed, crushing the pastries inside. Tik gathered the released energy, brought it to himself, and then sent it into the arms of the Ardulans holding him and Arik.
The people screamed. The ones holding Arik and Tik burned. Their skin charred and small flames erupted from their eyes and ears. The crowd fell back.
Emn tried to scream, but she couldn’t. She had Atalant’s memories from the Risalian cutter—the charred, blue bodies filled her mind’s eye.
Finally free, Arik and Tik ran up the remaining stairs where Ukie and Kisak waited, pushed open the tall
, arched doors of the Eld Palace, and fled inside. The mob, still screaming, pushed after them, and everyone flooded into the main throne room.
Help them! Emn cried to the Eld. They don’t deserve—
Enough. Cellulose surged. The Eld took what was left of Emn’s collected energy and added it to their own. Except… Emn traced the bonds. The Eld were pulling from the andal. The live andal. And they weren’t pulling so much as having it handed to them by trees that she was almost certain were sentient enough to speak.
The crowd in the throne room were now climbing onto the Eld’s dais to reach the cornered flares. The Eld’s presence washed across the crowd. The rage bled from the people. They stilled and fell back from the dais. Several of the older Ardulans fell to their knees and began to pray.
The vision abruptly ceased as Emn was kicked from the connection. As if the rejection had been physical, Emn landed on her backside, palms slamming against the floor.
Adzeek turned and faced her. “The potential of abusing your Talents is too great. You alone, Emn, slaughtered every crew member of a Risalian cutter. You disabled hundreds of Mmnnuggl ships, leaving many of the species to be killed by their enemies. You are responsible for the deaths of every single Risalian Ardulan in the Charted Systems, which is both horrific and useful. You are just one. Imagine the damage from hundreds of flares, all on the same planet. You can see the need, surely, for control.”
“Another common problem in flares is impulse control.” Asth looked sternly at Emn as the younger woman pulled herself to her feet. “These are not your friends. They are genetic mutations, and we do our best to care for them as much as we can. We understand their circumstances are not their fault, but that does not mean we will allow them to run amok on the planet we are charged with protecting.”