Less than an hour later, Zaq was ushering her into yet another transport. This one was old and rusty, but Zaq asked no questions about it, and neither did Tiran. Irun had given them some more money to help them on their way; more than he could spare, she suspected. The silent Charrie now stood next to Irun, her face completely impassive. Whatever she might think about the extravagant help they were giving Zaq and Tiran, she let nothing show on her face.
Irun, however, had silent tears trickling down his cheeks as he embraced Zaq once more. “Go with Veshti’s blessing,” he said finally, pushing Zaq toward the transport. “Don’t stop! Travel as fast as you can!” He stood back as Zaq began programming the computer that would fly them to Davuune. The engines fired, and Tiran gave one final glance out the window. Irun and Charrie stood on their porch once again, watching them leave. Turning to Zaq, she found him taking big rasping breaths.
“What have I done?” he whispered over and over. “What if they find him?”
Tiran had no words of comfort for him but she did the only thing she could think of. She reached over and wrapped her arms around him. He sat there limply for awhile, letting her hold him. Then he grasped her in return and dropped his forehead onto the top of her head.
“I’m so sorry, Zaq,” she whispered. “I wish I had never brought this on you or your friends.”
Zaq hugged her tightly for a moment and then sat up, his face determined. “We’re in this together, Tiran. I’ll stay with you all the way to the end. I promise.”
21. Kruunde Manor
It was early evening when Andie finally arrived at the small village that had once thrived on the Kruunde lands. Rosalea had rented a tiny ground transport which Andie had driven herself from Freeport to the manor lands. The craft had been rickety and dirty, but fortunately it had not had any problems. She sincerely hoped that it would continue to function for her. The last thing she wanted was to end up stranded in the middle of the Blue Plains.
She had been hoping to find some kind of an inn, but the village had fallen on hard times since the downfall of Jaory. The streets were lined with small, unkempt hovels, many of them apparently empty. Andie paused in front of one particularly sad looking shack. It looked as if someone had cared for it once upon a time. There was a graying board fence that might have been pretty once, and some rusted iron garden furniture under the half-collapsed porch canopy. Once Randa had taught people to read in this little village. Andie wondered if anyone was left who would remember that.
After wandering around for a while, she gave up and decided to find a public place where she could ask for information. She didn’t find anything but an extremely small, dilapidated tavern. With trepidation, she took a deep breath and entered.
It was mostly empty. Some muted music played in the background while three or four people sat at the bar that lined one wall. There were several tables but all were unoccupied. A single aging woman stood behind the bar, humming to herself as she wiped the counter. At Andie’s entrance, everyone in the room turned to her in shock. The woman at the bar stood with her mouth open, her cloth dripping water onto the floor. Obviously they didn’t get many visitors in this town, especially not Citizen visitors.
“Good evening,” Andie spoke politely, as she moved toward the bar. None of the men on the stools spoke in return, but the barkeeper returned to life, smiling widely at Andie.
“Welcome, my dear madam! What brings you to our humble village on such a night?” she greeted, dropping her rag on the counter.
“I am just passing through,” Andie returned pleasantly. “I could sure use a drink tonight.”
“Certainly, Madam!” the woman returned brightly. “What would you like?” Her smile faltered a little. “Our selection is a bit limited, but . . .”
“I’ll just take a soda. Whatever you’ve got is fine,” Andie reassured. The barkeeper turned to a small cooler behind the bar and brought out a can of Inca. “My name is Min,” she introduced. “Just ask if you’d like anything else.” Andie thanked her and sat down on her own stool. Inca was pretty much the only Urokian soda, and Andie always thought that it tasted like drinking carbonated sludge. Opening the lid, she took a small sip, forcing the vile liquid down her throat.
All of the men seated at the bar were still openly staring at her. Andie tried not to let it intimidate her. Very likely they never had seen a Citizen before. With her pale skin, she might as well have walked in with tentacles sprouted from her forehead.
“So where are you from?” one of the men finally grunted.
“Roma,” answered Andie with studied nonchalance. “It has gotten a little dangerous for my taste lately, but I really don’t want to leave Corizen. I love it so much here. So I decided to travel around Urok for awhile. It’s so beautiful out here.” The lies slipped from her tongue easily.
“You’re traveling around Urok alone? During times like these?” another man questioned in frank disbelief.
“Well,” Andie improvised, “not alone. I’m with my husband. He’ll be joining me shortly.” This earned some muttering under their breath, but Andie hoped that they just put it down to more incomprehensible behavior from those crazy Citizens. “We’re going to have a look around Kruunde Manor.”
There was silent astonishment at this.
“I’ve always been fascinated by the story of Sirra Bruche, you know,” Andie continued glibly. “I thought it would be interesting to see the place where she was a slave.”
“Not much to see,” grunted the man farthest from her. “Place was nearly leveled during the Revolution.” The other men stared morosely into their drinks. Obviously, the Revolution had not helped their village to prosper. At least they didn’t seem to be huge fans of Jaory. That was in her favor.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Andie lamented. “I didn’t realize.” She took another sip of her soda and pondered the bar counter for awhile.
The silence was broken by Min, the friendly barkeeper.
“You know, if you’re interested in learning about Sirra Bruche you should talk to Merena Enu. She used to be the cook over at Kruunde Manor and she knew her. The Citizen slave, Merena always called her. Not that she meant any harm by that,” Min hastily amended, obviously worried about offending her customer. Andie wasn’t offended. She was wracking her memory. Merena, Merena . . . it didn’t sound familiar, but if she had been the cook, they had probably crossed paths. Hopefully it wasn’t someone who held a grudge against her.
“That sounds great!” Andie responded enthusiastically. Then she let her face fall a little. “I can’t stay very long though. Do you think she would mind if I dropped in on her tonight?”
“Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” Min replied cheerfully. “She’s not young anymore, and her joints really bother her so she doesn’t get out much. She’d probably be glad of the company.”
That was how Andie found herself in the sitting room of an old Denicorizen woman holding a cup of weak herbal tea.
Merena rocked slowly in a creaking wooden rocking chair. Her skin was a mottled blue, with dark patches that were almost purple. Her hair was snow white and she moved slowly, in obvious pain. Yet her eyes were still sharp, and she eyed Andie thoughtfully after being introduced by Min, who had left her quiet pub only to direct Andie to the tiny crumbling house across the street from the bar.
“So you want to know about Sirra Bruche,” the old woman mused. She paused for a moment in her rocking and studied Andie’s face. Then she started rocking again. “Don’t know that I kin tell you much. Wasn’t round the Manor for long before she lit out.”
“Did you know her well?” Andie asked, curious to know if the old woman remembered her.
“No, not really. No one knew her well. The Master kept her all dolled up and out in the gardens like she was some kind of a pet bird or something.” Andie swallowed for a moment. She really didn’t like to remember those days at al
l, but she forced herself to continue the conversation.
“Who kept watch over her? Another house servant, or maybe the steward?” Andie asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The woman eyed Andie shrewdly. Andie forced herself to meet the old woman’s gaze without seeming too eager.
“There was a house servant assigned to stay with her most all the time,” Merena answered thoughtfully. Her forehead creased. “Don’t remember the name now. She was supposed to keep her all prettied up and things. But the steward, Oanni, he kept his eyes on everyone too. Nothing got past the steward. That was his job.”
“Do you ever see any of them anymore?” Andie asked, trying to be friendly. “The steward, any of the other servants?”
Merena shook her head sadly.
“No, I’m all that’s left. Some of the servants, they were with the Master when he was killed, like the steward. Most of the others left the area when the Manor was ruined.” She bit her lip for a second, and Andie felt her heart wring for this poor lady. All the life she had known had been destroyed in the war that had led to Andie’s freedom. It didn’t seem fair.
“A couple of us hung around the village thinking maybe Master Erron would come back and rebuild,” Merena explained a bit wistfully. “But after awhile, when he never came, the others moved on. I stayed because I’d nowhere to go.” Merena sighed deeply.
“Your master’s son was not killed in the Revolution?” Andie questioned, with careful nonchalance. This was exactly what she had come to find out, but it would never do to seem too interested.
“Who knows? He never came back. The Master sent him away—some said he had gone to the old family mines; some said he had gone to live with the smugglers. It was all rumors.” The old woman shifted in her chair. She was clearly getting tired.
“Well, I must be getting back,” Andie said regretfully as she rose. “Thank you so much for sharing with me. It sure made the past come to life for me.” In more ways than one, Andie added silently.
“My grandson will see you to the door,” Merena replied. “Art!” she called in a loud croak. A wide-eyed Denicorizen boy of ten or eleven appeared in the room. “Show the lady out,” she ordered. The boy shyly beckoned at Andie and led her to the front door. Andie pulled a small amount of money from her pocket belt. “This is for you and your grandmother,” she said softly, lest the older woman hear her. “Tell her thank you so much for her kindness.” The boy took the money with round eyes and bobbed his head once.
In the street, Andie stood thinking for a moment. The information hadn’t been terribly helpful. It was a long way to come for nothing. All of Jaory’s mining holdings had been seized long ago by the government. Still, Andie had never thought to check on Jaory’s old contacts with the smugglers. At least it gave her somewhere else to look, even if it was a slim lead. Jerrapo might know some of the old-timers who had smuggled for Jaory.
After some thought, she climbed back into her transport and traveled the short distance to Kruunde Manor. Probably it would be a complete waste of time, but something compelled her to go anyway.
It was easy to find. It was only a mile from the village, and even though the house was no longer standing, some of the walls still surrounded what had once been Jaory Kruunde’s prized formal gardens. She sat frozen for a moment, unable to get out. A wave of memories washed over her. Her chest tightened automatically and she forced herself to breathe deeply. Most of her time here in Jaory’s house she had been drugged, completely docile and impassive about her fate as a slave. During that period she had been treated well enough. Besides, it was all long in the past. Surely it should be simple just to get out and look around. Just as she finally built up her courage to go see the ruins, an air transport flew in and circled the manor. She quickly programmed her computer, ready to leave at a moment’s notice if need be. Warily, she watched as the transport landed and the passenger door opened.
Then a tall, sandy-haired figure climbed out and started toward her. For a moment she sat and stared at him in shock. Then opening her door, she climbed out of the transport and passed across the rutted lane as if in a dream.
When she reached him, Casey put out his arms and drew her to his chest, before burying his face in her hair. Andie clung to him, the tension quickly leaving her body. It felt so good, so right to be here with him. They had been apart so long, but here in Casey’s arms it was as if she had finally drawn breath after being too long underwater. Pure relief flooded her body.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she murmured into his chest. “I must be dreaming.”
“No,” he replied softly.
They stood that way until Andie’s legs started to protest from standing in place too long. She pulled back and stared up into her husband’s face, taking in the new lines in his forehead and around his eyes. He had deep purple shadows under his eyes. She wondered when he had last slept.
“How did you find me?” she marveled.
“I finally made it back to Corizen a few days ago. This morning I made it to Freeport, and Rosalea Ka told me where you had gone,” he answered. Andie waited a bit guiltily for the rebuke for leaving Zenith without telling him, but Casey didn’t say anything more. He was clinging to her as if he was afraid she would run away.
“I should have told you,” Andie confessed sheepishly. “But I was a little angry that you had left Corizen without Tiran and that I didn’t hear from you myself.”
Casey smiled crookedly. “I thought it might have been something like that. I’m not upset, Andie.” His arms tightened back around her. “I’m just glad to be with you again. It’s been horrible without you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” Andie said simply. Then Casey’s mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her like he hadn’t done in years. It felt like an electric current was racing up her spine, and she pressed closer. Finally they broke apart breathlessly. Andie could feel her heart racing as if she had just sprinted across the plains. It was if they were suddenly younger, having a flashback to an earlier point in their marriage when there had been no cold silences or long misunderstandings.
Casey laughed suddenly. “For the last year I’ve wondered what happened to our marriage and if I could fix things, and suddenly I feel like there never was anything wrong!”
“I know what you mean,” Andie murmured. She was finding it hard to talk. Casey looked around and asked casually, “So what exactly are you doing here anyway? Exorcising old demons?”
“I don’t know,” Andie admitted. “I talked to an old servant of Jaory’s in the village but she didn’t have much information. I guess part of me was hoping that maybe I’d find some clue to where Erron could be hiding now.”
“Erron Kruunde?” puzzled Casey. “But why . . . ?”
“Didn’t Bret or Rosalea tell you? That man Tiran ran off with was really Erron Kruunde.”
Casey’s face drained of color. Quickly she explained to him about Oanni and what had really happened the night of the Inaugural Ball. His eyes hardened and his fists clenched. She put a hand on his arm. She didn’t want him to go into a rage.
“If that bastard wasn’t already dead I would kill him,” fumed Casey through clenched teeth. “So that’s how that monster Eshude found out about you. Oanni must have been one of the Bastalt prisoners the Brotherhood released.” Suddenly his voice cracked.
“But then Tiran . . . didn’t just elope.”
Andie could see the fear in his eyes and hastily reassured him. “I think she’s alive, Casey. At least, Othar Eshude still thinks so, which means Erron hadn’t joined the Brotherhood as well.” She explained about the security pictures from the Kruundin City shuttleport and the reward posters for information on Tiran.
“Bret knew all of this. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you. You did see him in Roma, right?” Who else, after all, could have told him she was here on Corizen?
Andie could see the hesitatio
n on Casey’s face. Something had happened in Roma. Surely he hadn’t argued with Bret! They needed his help more than ever!
“It was very rushed,” Casey evaded. “We didn’t have time to really talk.” Andie frowned at him. She had known this man since she was seven years old. He was clearly hiding something.
“So what happened in Roma that you don’t want me to know about?” she pressed.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” Casey promised. “Look, since you have this transport, let me send the other one off, okay? The pilot would probably love to get back home before midnight.”
“Okay,” she relented. She watched Casey as he went to talk to the pilot and then turned and started up Jaory’s walk. The past seemed much less frightening now that Casey was here. Since she had come, she might as well look around.
She carefully picked her way up the front lane. The front walls were still erect, though the massive iron gates that had blocked the entry were completely missing. Pausing for a moment, she couldn’t help but remember the day she had stood here and met Jaory for the first time.
Casey caught up to her and looked around with interest. “So this is where Kruunde Manor stood. Not much left.”
“It’s been more than twenty years since I saw these walls for the first time. I was a terrified teenage pilot surrounded by smugglers. I tried to talk tough, but inside I was sick with fear,” remembered Andie. Casey grasped her hand tightly. She turned to him and smiled. “Yet here I am—I outlasted the Manor.”
Hands clasped, they walked together through the gateway.
There was nothing left of Jaory’s large mansion but mounds of rubble. She could see the foundation in places. Peasant armies had bombed it during the siege of Kruundin City, if she remembered rightly. Presumably they had stripped the house of anything of value first. Idly she wondered who had ended up with the large wardrobe of clothing that Jaory had forced her to wear as his own personal “ornament.”
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