The Exxar Chronicles: Book 02 - Emissary

by Neal Jones

  "That is a lie."

  Erengaar gently intertwined his fingers with Vatra's. "Of course it is. You are many things, sister, but foolish isn't one of them. You would never embark on a scheme that would be at once so apparent and so quick to fail."

  "What is your plan, Eren?"

  His hand suddenly closed like a vice and, at the same time, twisted hers. She almost cried out but bit her tongue instead. He brought her arm up and continued twisting as he leaned forward so that his face was close to hers. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a scream, but the pain was so great that a few tears spilled down her cheeks.

  "Tell me, dear sister, that you did not conspire with Rimshar to poison my wife. Give me your word." His tone was as cold as the stone that composed the statues of the dead emperors around them.

  "N-no, my lord..." She gasped. "I did not. I swear. I knew nothing...of his treachery."

  Erengaar did not immediately let go, but searched her gaze, her eyes. After another few moments of excruciating pain, he finally released her. "I believe you."

  Vatra cradled her arm and gently massaged her hand. She didn't dare turn away from her brother, but she bowed her head to hide more tears. She wiped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve and then asked, "What have you decided to do with me if am I not to stay within the palace?"

  "It's time that you took a husband. Third Lovar R'Daak, commandant of the twenty-sixth legion, will make a fine match. He has been widowed now for several years, ever since the untimely passing of his wife when she succumbed to Honal's Plague. And while his house and lineage are not among the more powerful of the Emperium, he is of noble blood, and he is not many years older than you. He will be a good father to Jharek, much better than I could ever be." Erengaar tapped his index finger idly against his chin, as though he was contemplating nothing more important than a dinner menu or what to wear for a special occasion. "I think that we shall announce the engagement a month from now. By then I hope to say that my wife is pregnant as well, and thus it will be a cause for double celebration. As for the actual ceremony, I think that six months is plenty of time to plan such an enormous event, and R'Daak isn't due back from his current assignment for another four months anyway." The lord emperor nodded and smiled. "I think that you'll be very happy with this arrangement once you think about it."

  He stood as if to leave, but then paused and looked down at his sister. She looked up at him with calm defiance, still cradling her wrist in her left hand.

  "Think of this as an opportunity, Vatra. The twenty-sixth legion is on security patrol on the Tasumlor sector. Surely you've heard the same rumors that I have about one particular system in that sector, one that is under exclusive control of the Talik'Jhor. While you are living with R'Daak aboard his flagship, perhaps you could do what you do best: spy. Tell me what you see and hear. You never know what might turn up..."

  He turned and walked quickly across the courtyard, fading into the shadows like a ghost. Vatra continued to sit, feeling a deep chill that had nothing to do with the night. Only the empty, stone eyes of the emperors past were witness to her shivering.

  ( 2 )

  "Hmmm. This is odd."

  Brantar Varis glanced up from her seat next to Lieutenant Japh at the helm. It was Lieutenant Ritano that had broken the silence of the Endeavor's flight deck.

  "Report," Varis ordered.

  "I've been conducting a passive comm scan of our region for the last hour and a half, and it suddenly detected something in one of the lower bandwidths. Very low, in fact."

  J'Soran stood and crossed the flight deck to look over Ritano's shoulder. The Endeavor was almost two days into her journey home, and she was currently passing through a sector that was labeled Tasumlor on the starmap provided by Nejra. It wasn't quite on the fringe of Jha'Drok space, but it was remote enough to be several light years from any other inhabited systems.

  "A transmission?"

  Ritano nodded. "That's what it looks like, but there's more here than just a typical comm signal. I think this is a data transmission. It's using up a significant amount of bandwidth." He magnified a readout. "Here."

  "Have you localized the source?"

  "Not quite, but there's no other star system in range except this one." He had pulled up a map on the secondary screen. "Sarlond."

  Lieutenant Japh swiveled to face them. "Isn't that the one that Jolan warned us about?"

  Varis nodded, frowning thoughtfully as she studied the readout on Ritano's screen. "It is. It's the one he said was under control of the Talik'Jhor."

  "This entire sector is under control of the Talik'Jhor," Jeff corrected her. "You're not seriously thinking of diverting course are you?"

  Before J'Soran could answer, the computer screens and interface consoles suddenly went dark, and the overhead lighting dimmed for just a second or two.

  "What the hell –" was all that Ritano could get out before the screens lit up once more, the interfaces came back on line, and the lighting returned to normal.

  "Report!" Varis snapped.

  Jeff was already on it, rapidly initiating a full systems diagnostic. So was Japh, and he was the first to speak up.

  "Cloaking shield is on line and fully operative. Same for navigation...and stardrive...and life support -"

  "Tactical and weapons are fine," Jeff cut in. "All other systems appear operative and normal. According to the computer, nothing unusual has occurred."

  "Impossible! Are you still detecting the data transmission?"

  Ritano took a moment to access the comm readout. "No. All bandwidths are silent."

  "Consider yourself extremely lucky." Nejra stepped out of the ladder well and crossed the flight deck to Ritano's station. "I warned you about this star system. Why did you not immediately alter course when you first detected the data transmission?"

  "I was curious," Varis replied defensively. "I was planning to alter course after we'd recorded a good chunk of that transmission for later review."

  "And that was your first mistake. Mister Japh, please alter course immediately to take us further away from this system. Use one of the alternate navigational routes I provided earlier."

  The Chrisarii glanced at Varis for confirmation, and she nodded. Then she turned to Jolan. "So what just happened? Have we been detected by the Talik'Jhor?"

  "No, probably not. If we had, we'd know it by now. What happened was the result of an automated security program buried within the transmission. As soon as it detected that you had intercepted and were recording it, it immediately localized the source, wiped this ship's memory of that recording, and then implemented further security measures to ensure that you won't be able to detect it again."

  "All of that was done in just a couple of seconds?" Ritano asked, astonished.

  Jolan nodded gravely. "As I said earlier in my report to Brantar Varis, the Talik'Jhor control this entire sector, but that system especially. They are extremely secretive and very ruthless when it comes to protecting their privacy. Consider yourselves lucky that it wasn't a scout vessel – or a warship - that detected your interception of that transmission. The twenty-sixth legion is on security patrol in this sector."

  "I apologize," Varis stated. "You're right. I should have heeded your warning, but my curiosity got the better of me."

  Jolan nodded as though he didn't quite trust her placating tone, and then walked over to his customary place at one of the backup system consoles. J'Soran returned to her own seat as well, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she watched the starscape streak silently past the forward viewport.

  ( 3 )

  Kralin moaned and forced his eyes to open, an act that he instantly regretted when sunlight from a nearby window flooded his field of vision and drove invisible spikes into his brain. He made a sound that was part cough, part cry of pain, and closed his eyes again. He possessed enough awareness of his surroundings to realize that he was in bed, still fully clothed, but the room wasn't his own. It wasn't even the guest room of his
parents' house, and for one terrifying moment, Kralin couldn't remember the night before, and he forced himself to sit up and open his eyes.

  Just then the door opened and Bratin appeared. "Eshaza, Kralin," she said, with just a hint of scolding. Eshaza was a Chrisarii customary greeting, given typically in the morning. "It's about time you came around. I was starting to wonder if you'd be awake in time for you and Matok to pick up where you left off last night, Or, rather, early this morning." She set a meal tray on the nightstand, and then crossed her arms and waited patiently for Kralin's response.

  "What time is it?" he croaked.

  "Just after midday. I made you a driik sandwich, if you can manage to keep it down. But drink the tea first. It will settle your stomach."

  Kralin managed a weak smile as he reached for the steaming mug. "You're too kind, saj."

  "And you're an idiot. Your mother screened me this morning, scared and worried."

  Bratin's tone quickly wiped the smile off Kralin's face and he nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

  Bratin sighed, and there was a touch of genuine affection in her gaze. She and Matok weren't related to Farak's family by blood, yet they were so close and had known each other for so long, that she and Matok might as well have been sajda and saj to Kralin and Jran. "You men are all the same. You'd rather drown yourselves in cheap ale than spend five minutes to talk about what's bothering you."

  "It's a little more complicated than that," Kralin replied defensively.

  "Krite! There's nothing more complicated in the universe than family. It's a fact of life. Ignoring that isn't going to do you – or them – any good. Especially since your mother doesn't have that many days left. The least you can do is sit down and talk." She turned to leave. "And make that bed before you come downstairs. I keep a clean house."

  "Yes, saj," Kralin, falling back on the old response he had given her as a child when she had scolded him for sneaking lorda fruit from the trees in her orchard or teasing her pet ort.

  He finished his tea, but discovered he had no appetite for the sandwich. Bratin was right. It was time for Kralin to face his father, and the sooner he got down to the task, the better he was going to feel.

  ( 4 )

  "No, that's not how you tie a proper vine! Your knots here – and here – are wrong. Let me show you." Farak Saveck used his knife to slice through the string and then reached for a new one. His thick, calloused fingers expertly tied the small knots, anchoring the delicate vine to its stake. "You have to leave room for the vine to breathe, to grow. You see?"

  The field hand nodded. "Yes, sir."

  Farak handed the him the ball of twine. "Tie the rest of them exactly like that one, and I'll be inspecting these in an hour, so don't take all afternoon doing it."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Why don't you let me try?"

  Farak was startled by the voice behind him, but only his eyes showed it. He narrowed them as he turned to face his son. "You still remember after all these years?"

  "Of course. You made me do half a field until I finally got it right."

  Farak started walking up the row towards the processing plant. Each field was large enough that it required its own plant, making three in all. "Nice of you to finally pay your respects to me. You've been home for how long?"

  Kralin ignored the bait as he fell in step beside the older man. The fact that his father was slightly stooped at the shoulders didn't escape his notice. "It's good to see you, father."

  "Are you here to lend a hand, or just to say hello?"

  "What do you need?"

  They were now in the shade of the plant, a square, two story structure that was in bad need of a fresh coat of paint and weather protectant. "What are you offering?"

  Kralin bit back an impulsive retort. "Do you need help in the fields today or not?"

  "No. It's not yet time for harvest."

  "What about the restaurant? Do you need an extra hand in the kitchen?"

  Farak laughed. "Do you have any culinary skills?"

  "I can manage."

  "No, no. We're fine for today. Go home, Kralin. I'll see you there later tonight." Farak left his son in the shade of the plant, hollering to a pair field hands as he walked away.

  ( 5 )

  It was late in the afternoon – nearly sunset – when Kralin left the processing plant and trekked across four fields to the company's central business office. It was on the top floor of the oldest building, which had been designed by Kralin's ansaj-dar, his father's father, Kyzo Saveck. It was he who had founded the winery, buying the first fod of land with his life savings, and using the profits of that first year to secure a loan from the depository for the business office. In the hundred years since there had been many extensions and additions to the original building, which had been two stories and barely large enough to accommodate four offices and a foyer. It was now seven times as big, and four stories tall, with a gourmet restaurant now occupying the entire ground floor. That had opened right after Kralin left to fight in the war, and he was surprised it was still up and running. But according to Matok it was the only thing keeping Farak from declaring chapter seven destitution.

  The upstairs offices were empty – including Matok's – but Kralin wasn't surprised to see that his father was still behind his desk. The elder Saveck was hunched over his computer terminal, squinting. Kralin hesitated, waiting for some acknowledgement of his presence, but when none was immediately forthcoming he walked to the desk and switched on the lamp beside the computer screen.

  "This will help you see better."

  Farak glanced up, startled. "What are you doing here? I told you I would see you at home."

  "There was work to be done. The engine of your number two processor wasn't up to code. Took me all afternoon to find enough parts to fix it."

  Farak scowled. "I didn't ask you to play mechanic! I told you to go home."

  "How many other engines aren't up to code? When was the last time you had an inspection of the plants?"

  That got the reaction from his father that he was hoping for. Farak slammed his palm on the desk and stood.

  "Is this why you came back?? To tell me how to run my business?"

  "Of course not. I'm here to help in any way I can."

  "I don't need your help!" Farak shut of the lamp and reached for his coat.

  "Father, wait. You and I need to talk."

  "I need to get home to your mother. We can talk there."

  Farak's tone was soft, defeated, as if his sudden outburst a moment ago had drained him. Once again Kralin was shocked at just how frail and aged his father appeared.

  "Where did you park the sildyr?"

  "I don't drive. I walk."

  "There's five miles between here and the house!"

  There was a glint of amusement in Farak's eyes as he turned to his son. "I thought you were a warrior."

  "I am, but you're not. I'm calling for a sildyr."

  Farak shoved past Kralin and marched out the door. "I'm walking. Join me if you want, I don't care."

  ( 6 )

  The air was warm and heavy with the scent of earth, ripe lorda, and tanta vines. Swarms of tiny doj buzzed about the sagebrush that lined the road fields. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, washing the sky in deep shades of emerald and bronze. Kralin trudged in silence beside his father. Neither of them had said a word since leaving the vineyards, and that had been twenty minutes ago.

  "The vines did well this year. There was no blight," Farak said at last.

  "That's a relief."

  "The last couple years have been bad, especially in the south field."

  "That's what Matok was saying. Is it a new strain of aquerda?"

  "The specialists seem to think so." Farak made a noise of disgust. "They said it was because I wasn't using some new form of pesticide."

  "What kind are you using?"

  "The same ones we've always used. And if I had the kril to buy the new stuff, I would. We just have to mak
e do with what we've got."

  Kralin didn't know what to say to this, so they walked another ten minutes in silence. The invention of anti-grav vehicles like the sildyr had made paved roads unnecessary in the modern world, yet there were still a few like this one kept in good condition, primarily for those in the rural communities who couldn't afford the expensive hovercraft. Somewhere in the distance was Neyart, but right now all that was visible was the endless expanse of farmlands and sky. Only the occasional drone of a sildyr passing overhead disturbed the illusion that Kralin and his father were the only inhabitants in this part of the world.

  ( 7 )

  As soon as they arrived home, Farak said, "I always give Jharis her dinner at this time. What is it tonight, Eema?"

  "A krake stew." She stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel fastened at her waist. "The tray is on the table."

  After Farak disappeared up the stairs, Kralin followed Eema into the kitchen, and he sat at the table while she dished up two bowls.

  "You smell like you've been working in a tech shop." She handed him the bowls and then opened two bottles of ale.

  Kralin nodded wearily. "Yes, I did. The processing plants. Father hasn't kept up his engines like he should. In fact, I can't believe they all haven't shut down for good, they're so old."

  Eema smiled as she salted her stew. "Farak only works with what he knows. The new engines are probably far too computerized for his taste."

  "You're right." He chewed on a bit of meat. "Good stew."

  "Thank you."

  They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

  ( 8 )

  Behind the house was Jharis' garden. The haavis tree stood tall and thick at the center, its large, droopy leaves in the midst of turning from a sky blue to a deep bronze. In the next few days and weeks, the branches would begin bearing the fruit for which the tree had earned its name. All around the base of the tree Jharis had planted various shrubs and flowers, grouping them in no particular order, giving them only enough space to bloom. Smaller trees were placed around the edge of the garden, as well as more shrubbery and flowers of different genus and color than what was at the base of the tree. A stone wall, waist height, added the final touch, creating a small courtyard, and the ground between central tree and the vegetation around the edge was paved with the same color of stone as the wall – a burnt gold and dark gray. Just beyond it was the guest house.