Raw alcohol burned his throat and took away his breath. For a moment he was unable to speak. He placed the glass down carefully, almost expecting to see the contents froth and bubble. A laugh burst from the crowd and was suddenly hushed, buried in apprehensive silence. The room was crowded with human occupants, a mixture of rough miners exiled from the company and their female companions. A card game had been underway in the far corner; the players now were still, watching another gamble. Steg realized he was the center of an intense scrutiny well hidden behind a facade of assumed and nervous disinterest. He studied the reflected faces, seeking the distinctive features described by Pete, trying to identify the one-eyed leader, who posed the most danger, as well as the woman Millie, who might provide shelter.
A movement caught his eye and he turned to watch. A hefty miner edged through the crowd which parted without signal or sound to provide a path directly to Steg. He was tall and well-muscled, and carried a small stunner, still holstered. He hefted a short broadsword, almost nervously throwing it from hand to hand. A dagger handle protruded from the top of one of his boots. His unfriendly face was scarred and beaten. Steg unsheathed Ebony and lifted the black sword into the light.
He felt encumbered by the desert suit although it was the standard dress of most of the crowd. He stepped back from the bar. It had been some weeks since he had traced the formal and ceremonial sword challenge. He grasped Ebony firmly and the sword spun and twisted, its black blade glittering in the bright barroom lights. The blade hummed its thirst and then roared its battle challenge. He completed the formal challenge and moved directly into the Za deathsong, its message unmistakable. He finally ceased all movement with the sword blade leveled at eye height, pointing directly at the approaching miner. Steg’s stance was a full challenge to a fight to the death. The waiting crowd held its collective breath. The miner stumbled and hesitated as full realization of his probable immediate future dawned on him. He turned away and sheathed his small broadsword. The waiting onlookers breathed a collective sigh. Steg knew that for the moment he was safe. He returned Ebony to its sheath. The next approach would be out in the darkness of Shantytown’s narrow streets and passageways. Steg turned back to the bar needing another drink.
“He’ll be sorry he missed his chance at the bounty.”
The soft voice was unexpected and Steg looked down at the speaker with unconcealed surprise. She was tiny, almost elfin and her lithe figure silently spoke of soft sensuousness. Her eyes twinkled with humor and their bright promise of life counterpointed the lines of time and worry that marked her face and in some inexplicable manner added to her beauty. He could not guess her age.
“May I ask your name?”
Her eyes widened and Steg braced himself against their challenge. She answered in the same soft voice. “Millie to my friends. Not many here fall into that category.”
“Pete thinks he fits into that category.” Steg spoke guardedly, not wishing to draw wide attention to the old prospector. For the moment the crowd pretended he was invisible and in order to ensure the delusion worked, refrained from looking at him.
“So the old fraud gave you a helping hand, did he?”
“Without his help,” confessed Steg. “I’d still be in the desert, dead. Either from heat exhaustion or at the hands of company thugs.”
“So I suppose he said to ask me for help, as well?” Her expression was resigned but not unfriendly.
“If you are able?”
“Hummph.” She almost snorted her disdain. “Of course I’m able. Now buy me a drink and tell me why I should. Talking makes me thirsty.”
Steg complied with her instruction, paying the barman with some of the barter coins pressed on him by Pete. He waited until the barman delivered the drink before speaking again.
“As you’ve surely heard, my name is de Coeur, Steg de Coeur. House of Aluta has taken an extreme dislike to me for some reason. They arranged for me to be left on Hellfire, presumably hoping I wouldn’t survive either the desert or the inhabitants.” He gestured at the crowd, most of which had returned to former activities and entertainments. “Perhaps the company even intends they’ll help conclude the matter.”
“The bounty’s high, very high. Free passage off-planet, to any Imperial destination—many here will kill just for that. Plus a substantial bonus. Blood money.”
“Would any not try to claim the bounty?”
“In Shantytown?” She almost sneered. “Most—possibly all—are plotting how they can claim the reward.”
Her words were not reassuring. “What about you? Will you help me or will you try for the bounty?”
Her eyes filled with the pain of hopelessness. She turned her face away and after a brief pause looked back at Steg. Her humor now was forced. “They won’t let me go. What can you offer?”
“Enough for you to buy your way off Hellfire? I could take you with me when I leave? Or perhaps the satisfaction of knowing the company didn’t win?”
“Perhaps. You may find other ways to compensate me. We can discuss them after we leave here.”
“Will you help?”
“Of course. You need assistance. And I think it might be interesting to watch. You give me the impression the company has cornered a fighter.” She smiled at him, mischief lightening her expression. “I’ll take your pack. You may need the sword. Follow me and don’t lag behind.”
Millie hoisted the heavy pack without obvious effort and headed for the door. Steg moved quickly to follow her. The noise from the crowd stilled and then surged as they left the bar. A wave of sound pursued them out into the night. His guide kept to the shadows, moving rapidly with a surprising deftness. Steg concentrated on following her through the narrow and twisting alleyways. Their direction intrigued him as they were moving closer and closer to the high palisade surrounding the mining town.
“Carefully, now,” the soft voice warned. “This is where we go underground.”
Millie disappeared further into the shadows and Steg almost stumbled over the solid ledge of a hidden doorway. She tugged his arm. He barely caught her whispered warning. He avoided a misstep as he commenced the descent. He tried to keep count. Smooth walls were on either side with very small light cells set high into the rock, their light barely adequate. The stairs seemed to be following a man-made fissure carved out of solid rock.
“Five hundred and twenty,” he murmured as they eventually reached the last step.
“What?”
“Counting the steps.”
“You missed some. It’s five hundred and twenty-nine and more to come.”
“Where are we going?”
“Didn’t Pete tell you we lived underground?”
“No.”
She laughed. “He may not know since he’s never lived in Shantytown, as far as I know. These old workings provide relief from the temperature. Shantytown is like an iceberg, eighty percent is hidden under the surface. Besides, we are miners or miners’ women, so what else is there apart from the underground?” Bitterness was back in her voice.
“Extra care here,” she instructed. The light cells were dimmer now and Steg struggled to pierce the darkness. “This section’s rarely used. I don’t think anyone comes here. Apart from me.”
They continued along narrow passageways and down section after section of rough-hewn steps. Steg occasionally felt ventilation drafts as they moved further into the depths. He wondered if he would ever find his way back to the surface, wondered if he would ever again see daylight.
Millie must have discerned his worry. “Don’t let this affect you. These depths hide and protect us. If anything happens, just remember to head up, not down. You’ll either reach the surface or encounter a Shantytowner. Force him to lead you out.”
“Where are we now?”
“Under the prison stockade below the company town. We’ve been underneath the company town for quite a distance. We are about half a kay down, I think.”
“So we can access the town from below
?”
“Yes. We can look for that later, if you want. Now here you need to be extremely careful, since your life depends on it. We have to cross a deep fissure. There’s a narrow bridge, really a plank, and a rope for stability. Use the rope and my shoulder for balance. Remember, if you slip, don’t take me with you. Stop here. Feel ahead for the beginning of the bridge.”
Steg hid his alarm. He moved his foot in a searching pattern until he bumped the plank. “Got it.”
“It’s about ten feet across.” Millie moved forward and Steg shuffled hesitatingly after her.
“How deep—?”
“Don’t ask. Just keep your mind and both feet on the plank.”
Steg gripped Millie’s shoulder and used the rope for balance. He shuffled carefully, making sure he kept to the center. He felt unbalanced and ignored the threat of vertigo. At last they reached the end. He tapped around with his foot, checking, feeling for solid rock. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped off the bridge.
“You can let go, now.”
“What? Oh, sorry.” His fingers ached and he realized Millie probably now had bruise marks from his grip.
“Now let’s raise the bridge. Here’s the rope you use to pull the plank back into position. Whatever you do, don’t let go. If you do, I’ll push you in after it.”
Steg had little doubt that she would carry out her threat. He struggled with the rope, dragging the plank across to their side of the gap. Anyone following wouldn’t be able to cross the fissure, even if they were able to track them, at least unless they carried their own plank.
“Come on,” instructed Millie. “Not far now. And we’ll have some light.”
He was blinded by the sudden glare of the light cell. When his eyes adjusted, he looked around. They were standing in a small cavern. The far end was shadowed and dark with stacks of stores and equipment, and small items of furniture scattered around in a marked absence of pattern. Apparently Millie had bartered, begged or simply stolen her requirements for survival and struggled down with them as she gradually ensured her survival.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “This is my hideaway. Everyone thinks I live elsewhere. I only come here when I need security. It’s taken me two years to assemble these bits and pieces. There’s even a small water unit which extracts moisture from the air—enough for my needs. I can be—almost—self-sufficient here. For a while.”
“Does anyone know this location?”
“No. I’ve been followed. Twice. Their bodies are kays away and further down. I can see in the dark. They could not. So they now leave me alone. Mostly. You’ll be safe here, until we go back into Shantytown. They might try to search, but because the trails are dust free, they won’t find us.”
“I’ll have to go back to the surface, sometime, if I’m going to escape. If I have your help, we can make it a costly experience for the company. They’ll know I’ve come out of my burrow.”
“That’s for later. Now sit, make yourself comfortable.”
Steg removed his desert suit and found cushions and rugs to sit on. As his eyes adjusted to the light he was able to make out more details of his surroundings. The cavern had been carved out of the rock and had a narrow rising chimney or ventilation shaft overhead. The entrance was heavily shrouded, ensuring their light did not escape to provide a beacon for any searchers. The cavern offered protection, although he could not remain so far underground for long.
“Now, I must tell you of me.” A long silence followed. Steg remained silent, waiting. At last Millie spoke, her voice subdued.
“I am of Fain.”
Steg hid his surprise at her words. Fain was a planet known for its near-people, supposedly artificial beings produced for sale offplanet. Fain origins were lost in myths, their story camouflaged in a protective shroud of hearsay and gossip. Very few visitors were allowed on Fain and then only to make their purchase, for they sold their young females to those who could afford the price, to those who desired the pleasure of a Fain.
Millie continued. “My owner surrendered most of his fortune to buy me. He thought he could win it back and failed. He lost the rest of his riches. He did not want to lose me as well, and in a last and desperate measure, he contracted with the company, believing like the others here that he could earn his fortune on Hellfire. We arrived here five years ago. For two years we were—happy—although the conditions were tough, far worse than the company had said.”
“He was honoring his Fain oath in his way and we could have survived, although it would have been very difficult. However an accident happened and the security chief was killed. His replacement, Taul, is an arrogant and cruel sadist. He saw me and wanted me. The price he offered would have allowed my Fain-master to leave, to start his life afresh. He refused. The price was increased, higher and higher. Still he refused. You see—we—cared for each other. Then this evil man—grew tired of waiting, tired of bargaining, tired of being refused.”
“My Fain-master was killed in what appeared to be an accident, but I knew. And Taul made certain I knew. When I refused Taul, he exiled me to Shantytown. He knew our customs and wanted me to go to him willingly. He knew a Fain had to be willing, otherwise it would be the end for him. We are trained, you see. He thought that by exiling me here, by dumping me in these dreadful conditions, I would weaken.”
“He even set his men to watch, to make sure no man, miner or Shantytowner, befriended me. They killed one who tried and the others left me alone. Alone. When loneliness for a Fain is death. They—the men in Shantytown—don’t even speak to me, for a word earns a broken limb from Taul’s men. He still waits.”
“Every two or three months he comes to Shantytown with his guards to taunt—to tempt me. So far I have used my hate to fight back. I am free.” A grim bitterness tinged her voice and a tired sadness filled her eyes.
Steg had heard details of Fain. It was a pleasure planet and female Fain were hostage to centuries of conditioning. They needed to give pleasure, to care for their Fain-master. A Fain alone, without her master, would die, her very will to live would fade, to be replaced by death. The most terrible of tortures for a Fain was to be alone and exiled in the way Taul had treated his victim.
“You must indeed have cared for your master.”
“I—I—can hardly remember his face now, after nearly three years of darkness, although I remember well his soul, his spirit.”
“You wish me to stand between you and this Taul, your tormentor?”
“At the very least.” She knelt at his feet. “Otherwise I will die, for I will not go to that evil—murderer.” The intensity in her voice was almost visible. She waited, desperation discernible in the tenseness in her body.
Steg considered her implied request. He was certain Millie was holding her breath in anticipation of his reply. The unique Fain relationship imposed strong honor obligations on both parties. The Fain-master was expected to protect his Fain while she committed herself to him. Instances of dishonor and mistreatment were rare, and either party, if necessary, could call on the authorities of Fain to protect and enforce Fain laws and customs. He needed her assistance to free himself from Hellfire and that would create a debt to her, a debt that could be repaid by helping her as she requested.
“You wish me to be your Fain-master?”
She nodded her reply. Tension had robbed her of speech.
“I, Steg de Coeur, offer to be your Fain master,” he uttered words that carried weight and bindings.
“And I, Milnaret of Fain, will be bound by the ancient bonds of Fain to your service, oh master.” Steg barely caught the softly spoken words.
“Millie, I realize your Fain vow is binding. However, if you ever decide otherwise, when we are off Hellfire—” Fingers were pressed softly against his lips, silencing him. Somehow the light had dimmed and two bodies touched and came together in the dark.
Steg awoke refreshed and ready to press on with action to get them both off Hellfire. The space beside him on the rugs was empty and
cold. Millie had returned to the Golden Nugget, certain she would be able to gather intelligence. Steg had argued to dissuade her, and thought he had convinced her. Obviously not. The cavern was empty and dark.
He froze, alert to strange sounds from outside the cavern. The sounds came again. He pushed through the heavy drapes and moved forward carefully until he felt the narrow bridge in position over the fissure.
“Millie?” he whispered harshly into the darkness. An answering groan came from the other side of the fissure. Steg was across the narrow and makeshift bridge before he realized he had moved. It did not take him long to find Millie. She was lying crumpled on the rock floor, barely conscious. He picked her up and instinctively found his way back across the plank and into the cavern where he set her down gently on the rugs and cushions.
Millie groaned again. Steg flinched when he examined her and saw the mass of bruises on her body. She had been cruelly beaten. He used water sparingly and gently washed away the blood and rock grime, carefully applying painkilling lotion and a healing accelerant which he found in her supplies. Obviously her torturers had been after information and Steg silently promised retribution. Millie stirred.
“Quiet, Millie. You are safe now.”
She ignored his admonition. Speech was therapeutic. “Taul’s men were waiting. They were very angry and wanted to know where I had taken you. I told them nothing. When one went to get instructions, I—I escaped.”
“Quiet, I said. I’ve applied healing accelerators and you need to rest for them to be effective.”
“I will rest. They apparently tried to kill Ol’ Pete—he killed his attackers and destroyed two of their desert vehicles. They are very angry. They said you were doomed, that you would die on Hellfire. One went to check with Taul. Then I had to contend with only one—he was too slow—he is now dead.” Her head fell back as she finished speaking. Steg checked her life signs. She was sound asleep, apparently using her Fain discipline to aid her body’s healing process.
Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) Page 20