The Cyber Chronicles 03: The Core

by T C Southwell

  Dena looked horrified. "Every day? No way!"

  "Princesses aren't allowed to smell."

  Dena considered this, her brow puckered. "You mean, if I don't bath, I can't be a princess?" He nodded, and the child heaved a great sigh. "In that case, I suppose I'll have to."

  His lips twitched at her hang-dog air. "Yes, I suppose you will."

  "I knew there'd be something bad about being a princess." She flung herself into an upholstered chair.

  Sabre went over to the windows and gazed out at the forest, whose leaves turned yellow and orange as autumn approached again. A year had passed while he travelled through the strange lands beyond the desert, looking after Tassin. Now she no longer needed him. A cyber without a mission was as useless as nipples on a bull, he mused, and his time was running out. As soon as the lasers were installed, he would be redundant. Tassin would rejoin her high society and forget him. That was good, and the less he saw of her now, the better. It did nothing to ease the ache in his chest, however. The prospect of returning to his half-life of pain and subjugation loomed like a shadow over him.

  "You love her, don't you?" Dena asked.

  Sabre turned. "No."

  "You do! I can see it in your eyes, when you look at her and she can't see you."

  "Really? Well, you're wrong."

  "She loves you too."

  "Stop it."

  "She does! I'm right about you. Why should I be wrong about her?"

  He shook his head, turning back to the window to hide his pain. "I don't love anyone. We're friends, that's all."

  "But she does love you. I'm sure of it."

  He sighed and faced her again. "That makes no difference."

  "You're being cruel."

  "No, I'm trying to save her from a lot of pain. It seems cruel now, but in the long run it'll be kinder."

  Dena snorted. "I never thought you were so mean."

  Sabre strolled across the room to gaze down at her. "I'm not mean. I'm not trying to hurt Tassin. I just can't allow myself to feel... emotions. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. Now leave it alone."

  She glared up at him. "That's silly!"

  A knock at the door made him swing around as it opened to admit a bevy of servants burdened with pails of steaming water.

  Chapter Eighteen

  That evening, at a hastily arranged banquet to celebrate the Queen's return, Sabre was forced to sit through a number of long, tedious speeches. Evidently Tassin had explained at great length that he was the reason for her survival, and many toasts were drunk to him. He accepted the accolades with a wry smile, declining to make a speech. He was forced to wear a stylish suit of dark blue velvet trimmed with silver, since when he had emerged from the bathing-room, he had found that his clothes had been confiscated and the blue suit was all there was to wear. The velvet itched, and he scratched irritably, ignoring his neighbours' pointed looks. Tassin sat at the head of the high table, looking uncomfortable in a high-necked white satin dress ornamented with silver and gold thread, seed pearls and tiny diamonds. A golden circlet held a sapphire at her brow, and, judging by her frown, it was giving her a splitting headache.

  The duke sat on her right and Bethan on her left, while Sabre and Dena had been relegated to the lower tables with the lordlings and knights. Dena wore a stiff pink dress with white ribbons, probably one of Tassin's old ones, dug from a dusty chest. Unfortunately, it was stretched across her hunched back, and, although her short hair had been washed and curled, its patchiness was still obvious. The girl told anyone who would listen that she was going to be a princess, most of whom looked disbelieving. Sabre hoped the Queen remembered her promise.

  Sabre enjoyed the food, the likes of which he had never tasted before. Juicy roast fowl, crisped to a turn, preceded a course of sucking pig bathed in savoury sauce. Pitchers of wine and frothy ale accompanied it, along with steaming plates of vegetables in creamy sauce, boats of gravy, bowls of soup and platters of savoury meats. He sampled them all, avoiding only the wine and ale. When people tried to engage him in conversation, they found his mouth full and politely left him to eat.

  By the time dessert arrived, he had undone several of his jacket's buttons, and started on the sweets with a will. Bowls of strawberries and jugs of yellow cream jostled for space amid plates of honey cakes and apple pie, gooseberry pie, raspberry pie and custard. He tried them all as well, his stomach stretching to its limit. When he could not eat another bite, he pushed his plate aside and looked up to find Tassin watching him. He smiled and patted his belly in appreciation, and she smiled back a little weakly.

  Sabre turned to Dena and recoiled. Sticky sauce and custard smeared her face to the eyebrows. Wetting a napkin in a finger bowl, he wiped it off, much to her disgust and her neighbours' obvious relief, for the sight had been unappetising. She glared at him when he was finished.

  "Princesses don't stuff their faces like that," he pointed out.

  "Well, I'm not a princess, yet. But if I was, I doubt I would have my face scrubbed like that."

  "Yes you would. Princesses are still children."

  She sighed. "Well, I'm full, anyway." Her eyes drooped.

  "Tired?"

  "No!" Her eyes snapped open, slightly glazed.

  "Yes you are. Come on, time for bed."

  He rose and pulled her from her chair, ignoring her mumbled protests. Picking her up, he carried her out, glad to have a reason to leave.

  "Do you want to drown in your pudding?"

  "No." She looked at him suspiciously.

  "Then you must go to bed, or you'll fall asleep and your face will end up in that bowl of cream, and you'll drown."

  Dena eyed him. "You're a terrible liar."

  "Am I? Well, look at it this way. If you eat any more, you'll get fat, and then you'll look like a round lump in all those pretty dresses you'll have when you're a princess, and people will look at you and say, `Oooh look, there's the fat princess!'."

  Dena giggled and snuggled closer to wrap her arms around his neck. Sabre tucked her into bed, then shucked his itchy clothes and climbed into his own.

  The next morning, Sabre woke to find Dena already gone, and a new set of clothes, this time dark grey cotton, laid out for him. Normally such activity would have woken him, but his sleep had been heavy and dreamless. The soft bed, large meal and hot bath, combined with his exhaustion and newfound safety had contrived to relax him, and he was much refreshed for it. The cyber would have flashed a warning when anyone entered his room, but he must have slept through it. He discovered a distended Purr asleep on the cushions in the lounge, and he opened a sleepy eye at Sabre's approach.

  "I take it you found the kitchen, Purr?"

  The mosscat yawned with sated satisfaction. "Yes, what a place. I never saw so much food in all my life."

  Sabre chuckled. "Careful, or you'll get so fat you'll be waddling just now."

  Purr stretched, muscles thrumming. "Never fear, I have a lot of catching up to do. Many lean years of raw fish and Flux-fruit."

  "So you do like it here, then?"

  "Sure, it's okay. Could get boring, though." He gave his purring chuckle. "There was a cat in the kitchen who thought she owned the place, but I soon changed her mind."

  Sabre smiled. "How did you do that?"

  "With a claw."

  "A claw?"

  Purr extended a chubby hand, and a six-centimetre, razor-sharp claw shot from the end of one finger. He sneezed softly. "She thought her claws were sharp."

  Sabre laughed. "There's not much to match you here, that's for sure."

  Purr regarded him. "Yes, I'll look after the Queen when you're gone."

  He frowned. "You do that."

  In the courtyard, Sabre collared a few loitering soldiers and told them to transport the lasers to positions on the walls. The sergeant objected, and Sabre suggested that he see the Queen, which he evidently did, returning white-faced, presumably with a flea in his ear. From this, Sabre deduced that Tassin was back in que
enly form, and chuckled. After that, he had all the help he needed.

  At the bottom of the cart, he found the humming sword. He took it to his room and wrapped it in a cloth before stowing it in a cupboard. The sword chimed as he was about to shut it away in the darkness, and he glared at it.

  "This is more than you deserve, so don't complain."

  The sword gave a flat chime as he closed the door. He locked it, hiding the key in a crack under the mantelpiece. On his way out, he turned and addressed the cupboard. "For all I care, you can stay there forever."

  Over the course of the following week, the stone masons and carpenters Sabre hired built gun placements and cradles for the laser cannons. The soldiers eyed the silver cylinders he placed in the cradles with overt curiosity. He wondered what Tassin had said to the sergeant, for the soldiers and workmen followed his instructions without hesitation or question, and even called him 'sir'. Several times, he spotted nobles watching him, even the duke, but no one bothered him.

  In two days, he had the weapons mounted on swivelling wooden supports, protected by walls on the sides and most of the front, allowing enough room to turn them. He glimpsed Dena in the company of noble ladies on several occasions, looking radiant in frilly frocks. She had been moved to another room, but was not a princess yet. In order to do that, he guessed that Tassin would have to adopt her, probably a lengthy process.

  When the lasers were installed, Sabre called together the soldiers and asked for volunteers to work the new weapons. The men muttered, shaking their heads.

  He turned to the sergeant. "Go and tell the Queen."

  The man blanched. "Tell her what, sir?"

  "That her men are a bunch of superstitious cowards."

  The sergeant's eyes darted, and he coughed. "That – that won't be necessary, sir."

  "Good. I need twenty men." Sabre left the sergeant to find twenty reluctant volunteers.

  When the men presented themselves, looking cowed, Sabre showed them how to aim and fire the disarmed lasers. The big weapons had several settings and telescopic sights, which he removed, deciding that a glance through them would blow the soldiers' superstitious minds. He set them to broad beam, since they were not going to be used with any degree of accuracy, and the power he set to medium, which was plenty for poorly armoured men. When the men were familiar with the weapons, he ordered them to place straw bales in the fields around the castle and invited Tassin to watch the demonstration.

  The Queen appeared on a balcony above the courtyard with the duke, Dena, Bethan and a number of strangers. The trainees gathered around when Sabre settled behind a laser and inserted a power pack. He set the beam to fine, aimed at the furthest bale and fired. It vanished in a blast of fire and black smoke, a cloud of ash settling in its place. He glanced around at the stupefied men who stared at the spot where the bale had been. Tassin and Dena applauded, while the other nobles stood open-mouthed. Sabre grinned and swung the laser to aim at another bale. After destroying three bales, he moved to the next laser, taking the power pack with him.

  When he asked for a volunteer, the men clamoured to be chosen. Combining testing with training, Sabre fired each laser in turn, finding only one that did not work. He replaced it, then tested the grenade launchers, which all worked. The launchers impressed the men even more than the lasers had, and they begged for permission to practice more, but ammunition was scarce. When the training was over, he covered the lasers with cloths and found Tassin waiting in the courtyard.

  He approached her. "Your Majesty?"

  She frowned, fiddling with the heavy lace on the skirt of her lavish azure satin dress. "Do not call me that."

  "I'm glad you haven't turned back into that snobbish little cow I first met."

  "I shall never be like that again. I was a fool."

  "Agreed."

  She looked down at the lace she had mangled, smoothing it. "I am sending messengers to the kings tomorrow, to tell them I am back. The lasers are ready, so I cannot delay any longer."

  He shrugged. "I hope there isn't too much killing."

  "I have asked for a parley, so there should not be any killing, just a demonstration."

  Sabre nodded, glancing away. He wondered why he was so ill at ease in her company after only a few days apart. Tassin obviously suffered from an attack of shyness, and he found it hard to look at her. His eyes slid away from her alien finery and elaborately dressed hair.

  He cleared his throat. "Good. By the way, when are you anointing Dena a princess? You did promise."

  "I know. Tonight, actually. I want you to come to the feast. You have not been in the supper hall since we arrived."

  He studied the soldiers on the battlements. "All those busy bodies asking questions. I prefer my own company. I'll never fit into your society."

  "I suppose not. But just tonight? Dena will be so unhappy if you do not." She stopped smoothing the lace, which was growing limp, and sent him a quick, shy glance.

  Sabre shifted, became aware that his hands hung at his sides and clasped them behind his back. He felt like a loitering fool, unused to the inactivity of safety, and uneasy with it. "Sure, I'll come. The grub's great, at any rate."

  "Grub?"

  "Food." He smiled, his eyes flitting over her face. Tassin opened her mouth, then shut it again and shot him an answering smile before turning away. He watched her go, his heart heavy. As soon as Torrian was no longer a threat, he would leave. When he returned to his room, he found another foppish suit laid out for him, and groaned.

  At the banquet, which was smaller than the first, Dena sat beside Tassin, dressed in a lacy white frock covered with ribbons and embroidered yellow flowers. Her hair was curled to hide the bare patches, and a lacy cap sprigged with fresh blossoms covered the worst of the mutation. The dress was designed to hide her hunch, and she looked like a normal, pretty little girl. A fire burnt in the massive hearth behind the Queen, giving off waves of welcome heat. Winter approached, and draughts plagued the castle.

  Before the main course, Tassin rose to her feet and silence fell, broken only by Sabre munching an entrée. This drew the disapproval of every noble in the hall, and he found himself the object of many critical stares. He smiled and selected another appetiser.

  Tassin raised her voice to address the assembly. "My lords and ladies, Uncle, Aunt, and Cousin. Tonight I wish to announce that I am adopting into my family a brave young lady who risked her life to save mine. She has no parents, for they perished in the horrors that lie beyond the Death Zone. I am not old enough to be her mother, so I therefore declare her to be my sister, and not in contention for the throne. My sole heir remains my cousin until I bear a child of my own, in accordance with our laws of bloodline inheritance. Henceforth, she will be Princess Dena Alrade."

  Stilted applause arose from the sour-faced nobles, and Sabre wondered how many arguments Tassin had had with her advisors and family before this compromise had been reached. He did not doubt that she had fought long and hard to give Dena the reward she had promised, and he was proud of her commitment and loyalty. Dena beamed at Tassin, her adoring eyes shimmering with tears. Sabre stood up, surprising everyone, who had only ever seen him eat, and raised the glass of wine he had acquired especially for the occasion.

  "A toast!" he cried in ringing tones. "To Princess Dena!"

  No one could refuse to toast the new princess, and they raised their glasses while Dena blushed and squirmed. Tassin shot Sabre a grateful smile as a servant appeared at her side bearing a velvet cushion. On it lay a silver circlet, which Tassin placed upon Dena's curls, settling it around her brow. Dena flung her arms around Tassin's neck and hugged her, dampening the Queen's royal blue outfit with tears of joy.

  Sabre had no interest in the rest of the banquet, and when he had eaten his fill he slipped out. On the way to his room, he encountered Dena, accompanied by a lady-in-waiting, also heading for bed. Sabre bowed so deeply that his forehead almost touched his knees, and an ominous ripping sound told him that th
e fancy trousers he wore were not designed for such contortions. Recovering his aplomb, he fought the urge to discover how large the hole in his trousers was and straightened.

  "Your Highness."

  Dena raised her arms, and he picked her up. "Sabre."

  He looked attentive. "Yes, Your Highness?"

  "Wasn't it wonderful?"

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  "Did you enjoy yourself?"

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  "I'm a princess now."

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  "Sabre?"

  "Yes, Your Highness?"

  "You ripped your trousers." She giggled, her eyes sparkling.

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  "Sabre!" Dena thumped his chest.

  "Yes, Your Highness?"

  "Stop that!"

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  "Well?"

  "Yes, Your Highness?"

  Dena burst into giggles, and Sabre chuckled and hugged her. The lady-in-waiting looked confused. Dena leant back to study him, and her smile faded. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.

  "I don't want you to go!" She flung her arms around his neck and clung to him, weeping.

  "Oh, brother," he muttered, and turned to the lady-in-waiting. "Excuse us."

  Sabre carried Dena to his room, closed the door and sat down. Settling her on his knee, he pried her arms from his neck. "Tassin told you, I suppose?"

  She nodded, hiccupping. "I didn't think you would really leave, when you told Tassin that you would on the cart. I thought you were just teasing. You'd be safe here. You don't have to go!"

  "I do. I'm not safe anywhere."

  Her face crumpled, and she wailed, "I want to come with you!"

  "I wish you could, but it's impossible. I'm sorry."

  "But I'll miss you! It's not fair!"

  He stroked her hair. "I'll miss you too. Hey, do you want me to tell you a story?"

  Dena's tears dried while Sabre made up a rather silly story about a princess and a king. She did not seem to notice the flaws in it, but gazed at him with sad eyes, and he wondered if she was even listening. Several times, she reached up to touch the brow band, running her fingers along the crystals in a forlorn manner that told him Tassin had explained it to her. His husky voice lulled her to sleep, and he held her for a while, studying her innocent features. Sadness filled his heart, as it always did when he contemplated his bleak future. He would never know the joy of the love of a wife and children, and he would have cherished them. All that lay ahead for him was a life of slavery and pain. His inner voice mocked him from the dark recesses of his mind, shouting bitter words at the irony of his futile dreams. Cyborg! He rose and carried Dena to her room.