Flight To Exile

by Chris Reher

  Aletha hesitated. “Uh, about Chor...”

  “What about Chor?”

  She blushed. “Well, I mean, does he have to know everything that goes on? I'd be so embarrassed.”

  “Chor doesn't care,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  He observed his twin coming out of the cave with their camping gear. “I'm sure,” he said.

  Chapter Eight

  It was not a good day for doing business at the reservoir. The usually barely-felt vibrations from below were uncommonly strong, to the point where the floor itself seemed to move. The air around the squat tower shimmered and swirled as if an unfathomable heat was rising from the ground. People in the employ of the La'il hurried from chore to chore, careful to draw no attention upon themselves. In a mood like this, their leader was, at best, unpredictable.

  The La'il was in her private rooms, pacing now and again to keep herself from exploding. She knew that her current mood was agitating the stockpile of chi’ro concentrated in the silos below into a disturbing force perceptible by even the most obtuse mind for miles. Chi’ro was a perfectly innocuous matter, incapable of affecting anything it encountered until a human mind shaped it into something purposeful. But the aggravated state of her mind today incited the chi’ro to the point of affecting the other people around her, causing concern and unwanted inquiries.

  La’il forced herself into calmness. Gradually, the vibrations subsided and the essence again flowed at a measured pace to and from the reservoir, to be of use to those who needed it to do their work. She could almost hear the sigh of relief throughout the tower – in the personal space afforded to some, in the places of business, and in the processors below.

  The La’il passed through the doorway onto the open-sided overlook that, along with her own rooms, took up much of the top floor of the reservoir tower. Except for gentle breezes, no weather was ever allowed to sweep through this belvedere and so she spent much of her time here, including many nights during which she stared up at Chenoweth’s unhurried orbit and devised her plans for the future. Her bare feet made no sound on the finely detailed blue and silver tiles when she moved past her raised couch to the stone balustrade.

  She leaned over it to observe the thin streams of chi’ro arcing through the air and into the caverns below, drawn there by her adepts. Without her steady control over its ebb and flow, the precious resource would be squandered by anyone for any scheme, a waste of the very essence that gave life to the Homeworld and protected it from the elements.

  Although less generously appointed, there were towers like this wherever nodes of chi’ro converged and made the construction of a reservoir practical. In other places, single risers were used to produce electricity to be dispensed to all parts of the Homeworld, needing no adepts to transport it there. Even small emanations were carefully managed under heavy guard, leaving only some in the most far-flung areas of the Homeworld to those who could help themselves. No riser on this planet could be claimed as private property.

  Assured that her barely-controlled temper was no longer interrupting the routine flow of chi’ro into the reservoir, the La’il returned to her worktable to stare at sheaves of petitions that had piled up there since only yesterday. She sat down to read about a proposal for not only chi’ro but also two adepts to direct it in an attempt to lift an ice floe from the southern pole to a drought-stricken region on this continent. That one would more likely find approval than the request to change the course of a major river because it did not fit the schemes of the city planners.

  She glared at the demands for more and more chi’ro for more and more outlandish projects. Well, there was no more of it. While the supply of chi’ro was steady, it was transient and limited and once used had to be replenished over time. And so its distribution must be efficiently managed, a feat made possible only through the unequalled power of her mind.

  Eventually, she knew, there would be more people with more needs attempting to share the Homeworld’s finite supply of chi’ro. Within a few hundred years there would only be enough to supply the healers and the power plants, perhaps continue some system of communication. And then? Would chaos take over as the major adepts of the day laid claim to individual nodes, each single riser? Would they become what Thali had become: a lawless mob of idol worshippers, eking out a living as best as they could on an inhospitable planet?

  For now her laws controlled the wealth; any blatant waste of the resource was penalized. She knew these laws to be harsh, even unfair, and her system of justice more concerned with curbing dissent than resolving conflict. Opposition to her methods had come and gone over the years, suppressed through quick retribution for real or supposed threats to her sovereignty. Uprisings had taken place and battles had been fought during which people died and enemies were made. There was never any mercy for those who opposed her, but anyone choosing to live in peace was rewarded with the comforts and sustenance that made life on the Homeworld pleasant. Her vision assured that no one suffered from any lack or malady - a worthwhile objective that left little room for dissidents and revolutionaries.

  The greatest threat she faced was not open warfare. A wave of a hand by her or a number of her prime adepts could scatter an advancing force like a foot brought down upon an anthill. But she herself had been the target of assassination, both physical and political, plotted by unseen enemies who delivered poison or intrigue even to her private chambers. Her bodyguard surrounded her at all times and watchers like Galen roamed the planet to search out the plotters and schemers and terrorists.

  The La'il's gaze moved through the room’s open windows to search for Chenoweth in the sky. And now this! After centuries of peace, that rabble of colonists was stirring from their self-imposed exile. The stalemate that had begun with the severing of the conduits was in danger now and she could feel their attempts to break through the barriers between the moons. Stupid of Dazai to die without passing on the secret of the seals to his people! How fortunate for the Homeworld that La’il had uncovered that secret before Chenoweth did, allowing her to get through the launch, if only for an instant, to send the twins to Thali. She knew Chenoweth had also tried to create a conduit in an effort to seize Aletha. They were still prying and pounding on the frozen seal and perhaps it was just a matter of time before they succeeded. They must not succeed! With the girl in Chenoweth’s control, La’il’s dreams for her planet would come to an end.

  An angry hiss escaped her lips. The girl! La'il wanted to reach out at the smaller disk hanging in the sky and throttle Galen, Chor and the girl all at once. How dare he!

  The adept left her table to pace to the enameled door to the hallway, aware of her renewed agitation once more affecting the chi’ro. She halted her hand on its way to the latch and walked back to her desk. She should have sent someone else to retrieve the girl. But only her strong mental link with Galen made their quest possible. Few among her adepts had this connection with her and only this connection would enable her to bring them back again. And until now, no one else had had such a connection with Galen.

  She had felt Aletha's touch on Galen's mind all the way from Thali, waking her in the middle of the night. She had suspected a great talent asleep within Aletha, waiting for someone to awake and train it, but nothing had prepared her for a mind as powerful as her own. With proper guidance, the possibilities were infinite! The La'il had been pleased to discover this, content with the knowledge that Aletha's great talent would soon be within her grasp to manage and control, the way she managed and controlled all life on the Homeworld, which flourished under her tyrannical but ultimately beneficial leadership. She had been amused by Galen's helpless reaction to Aletha's clumsy seduction.

  This morning, however, was another matter. She had reached Galen in time to discover his entirely unwelcome feelings toward Aletha. Not only did he seem to harbor some absurd affection toward her, but had also begun to question his role in La'il's plans for the girl. Did he actually mean to keep her? When Aleth
a had come to him again they discovered the means, somehow, to erect a mental barrier to keep anyone from looking into his thoughts.

  La’il touched her flawless face and then ran her fingers lightly along her body, its perfection maintained throughout the centuries by an immense amount of chi’ro. It didn’t take great insight for her to understand that she, who ruled everything and every person on this planet, had allowed herself to be taken by some insane, uncontrollable jealousy.

  Temporarily, she could make Galen do and feel anything she wished but never, not even on those few occasions long ago when he had come to her bed willingly, had he particularly cared for the La’il. It had never really mattered to her – she craved and cultivated his darker emotions. But now she understood that he was perfectly capable of caring, of tender thoughts and of wanting those feelings returned, freely and openly. And all of it he squandered on that girl!

  She rushed back to the door and, this time, flung it wide. The hall outside, like her sumptuous rooms, was a vaulted, stone-pillared excess of tiles and carvings, improved upon by hundreds of years of artistry since the reservoir tower was first built. Here, too, the walls were practically non-existent, allowing light and air to flow through the uppermost story of the building.

  La’il stepped into the breezeway to see a cluster of adepts loiter at the far end. Some of them had been in her service long enough to know that being readily available when she was in a mood like today’s was preferable to being hard to find. “Get me Rangii!” she shouted at them, satisfied when they jumped to attention.

  Rangii rose from his perch on the banister and moved toward her in that smoothly gliding step that irritated her on the best of days. His floor-length vest was casually unfastened to reveal his snug shirt and tights and that annoyed her even more. The stately robe was something favored by the elder adepts and he wore it like a dressing gown, knowing it emphasized his height and elegance. Not surprisingly, he was shadowed by Caelan, his companion since the boy had come of age and joined the tower staff.

  Arriving at her door, Rangii touched the back of his fingers to his brow but she had already turned away, disinterested in his salutation. “What do you know about Vankrug and his people?”

  Rangii followed her into her rooms and took a chair beside her worktable, something only the most exalted of prime adepts dared without invitation. Caelan, more aware of his place in her estimations, remained by the door. “Small rebel faction near Morningside,” Rangii said, trying to guess her mood. Perhaps seating himself had been a poor choice; his leader had remained standing, her stiff posture clearly revealing her tension, even if the whipped-up chi’ro flying about the place hadn’t given that fact away. “Too much time on their hands. Thinks he ought to get access to the riser that’s popped up in the middle of his pasture. Minor annoyance.”

  “Well, this minor annoyance has just gotten himself two more primes.” The La’il gestured at some messages on her table. “Shai is one, not sure about the other.”

  “Shai doesn’t surprise me. She’s been making noise about Vankrug’s faction for a while. She’s a little soft for the brawny types. She’ll come home when she tires of him.”

  “I want her home now. I need you to fly out there and—“ La’il’s eyes snapped to Caelan waiting patiently nearby. He returned her gaze fearlessly for a moment, an inviting smile playing over full lips before he lowered his head. She surveyed the youth, aware that Rangii had noticed her interest and let the moment spin out until his apprehension became something she could taste and feel. He came to his feet but did not quite dare to stand between Caelan and the La’il.

  “Wait for me in there,” she said softly to Caelan and nodded toward her private chamber. Her couch was clearly visible through the open door. She struggled to keep a smirk from her face when Rangii’s indignation threatened to explode into what would surely be a regrettable incident. She was disappointed when he brought himself under control before deciding to open his mouth.

  Caelan’s secret smile reappeared as he moved to the exit, slowing his steps when he passed Rangii. “Can he come, too?” he said, his soft eyes on his companion.

  “Rangii is busy,” she replied. She watched him leave the room, turning at the door to close it gently, his last lingering glance for his leader. La’il turned her attention to Rangii who stood silently fuming in the middle of the room. Deciding to tighten the screws a little more, she gestured toward her bedroom door. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” She briefly closed her eyes when she felt anger mingle with the resentment exuding from the adept. His thoughts were tainted with selfish insecurities – not nearly as satisfying as the pure, unchecked fury she was able to wake within Galen. “And so very talented. Like his father.” Pretending not to notice his mood, she walked briskly around her table to seat herself. She did not invite him to take his chair again. “How many people are with Vankrug?”

  Rangii blinked. “What? Oh, him.” He folded his arms in a futile effort to regain his composure. “I have no idea. His clan isn’t big, but he practically runs the town. Owns a lot of land.”

  “I want them gone. Go there yourself and take them out.”

  “Gone? What do you mean?”

  “Gone! Make an example of them! I don’t intend to build a fortress around that riser and I will not have my adepts turned against me. I want Vankrug and his posse dead and his lunatic followers scattered. Accuse him of growing chibane. Confiscate his farms, but leave his tenants alone.”

  “Vankrug is Chor’s assignment,” he said, taken aback. Up until now, the dissidents had done nothing more unlawful than rally around a few angry speeches and refuse to pay their levies. Certainly, Shai would not be there if chibane was grown or stored anywhere near the place. “He’s got some of his people in there. I don’t know who they are and I wouldn’t be able to get them out. Can’t this wait? Vankrug isn’t doing any harm right now.”

  “Two more adepts betraying me is a lot of harm! Chor isn’t here and the situation requires a resolution. I can’t wait until they get back here. I’m giving it to you.”

  “He’ll kill me,” Rangii whined. “Galen and I don’t get along so well. Can’t you send someone else? I don’t think I have the stomach for—“

  “Get out of my sight!” La’il hissed, barely loud enough to be heard. “And bring Shai to me when you’re done. Alive, if you can manage that.” She watched him stumble from the room, his cultivated poise no longer in evidence. A placid smile touched her lips. Galen would be furious over Rangii’s interference. It had taken them months to get close to that faction in a bid to settle things peacefully. Now it was gone. She could make anything gone. It was wise to remind Galen of that.

  Chapter Nine

  When the fugitives on Thali moon finally arrived at Alarit Dunn, they were more than a day later than intended, having missed the turn of the tide once or twice, perhaps not entirely by accident. Aletha directed the twins to steer their craft through a bewildering maze of increasingly swampy bays, inlets and rivers until they were not so much rowing as punting the craft through shallow, silty lagoons. The canopy of trees above them closed in along with swarms of stinging insects. Rubbing their exposed skin with the juice of some large, freshly-crushed flower turned it an interesting shade of yellow, but also kept the stinging insects at bay.

  At last, having left most of their gear in the boat, the three travelers marched single-file along an overgrown path toward what Aletha assured them was Minh's village and the home of her youth. Chor grumbled under his breath, used to the perpetual damp of a rainforest even less than the perpetual damp of the coast. Patches of mist filtered what little light reached down from the treetops and he felt uncomfortably crowded by the jungle that hid the many eyes he felt upon them.

  “Here we are!” Aletha announced brightly. They had come to the edge of a small lake where canoes and rafts were tied to long banks of steps hewn into the shoreline rocks. Some distance from the lake, the forest once again formed a dense, seemingly i
mpenetrable barrier. At its edge, nestled among the outermost of the colossal trees, a village perched on a framework of stilts, some of the buildings connected by short walkways and bridges much like those connecting the pinnacle islands along Phrar’s coast. A few of the small dwellings were wrapped right around the trunks of large trees and some of them were even slung one above another or hung from massive branches like they belonged to some monstrous birds living in these wilds. More bridges connected these nests to form aerial walkways among the treetops. To Galen’s surprise and considerable relief, the buildings seemed snug and neatly maintained, built of wood and tightly woven grasses. The floor of the village was carpeted with a springy layer of chipped wood through which water drained quickly to provide a dry surface. Because of remarks overhead in town, he had half-expected to find a tribe of savages eking out a dismal living in the depths of the jungle. But this place looked to be no more primitive than what they had left behind at Phrar’s waterfront.

  Livestock and small children did whatever livestock and small children did on the ground below the houses, and noisily at that. Seeing the new arrivals, the children forgot their games and raced toward them, their joyful noises muted only a little when they neared the towering pair of twins flanking Aletha. The commotion brought out some of the adult villagers who came to greet them with broad smiles, happy to see Aletha and unreserved in their welcome.

  The children stayed below when Aletha and the twins made their way up a ramp to the level of the stilt houses. Most of those were single-room dwellings of woven mats and wide fronds lashed together. Water dripped from leaf-covered roofs but the interiors, open to view through sheltered doorways, looked dry and inviting. They continued along the catwalk until Aletha stopped in front of a large communal area. Bowing slightly, she entered, beckoning Galen and Chor to follow.