Ramád walked down the open corridor ahead of a group of soldiers carrying heavy disruptor rifles. The nobleman’s piercing amber eyes darted all over the crowd while the shiny pommel of the long blade strapped to his thigh flashed with each of his long strides.
Behind Ramád and the armed party, a lavish, open black vehicle pulled into the square and paused, raising a deafening roar from the reptilian spectators and troops. Tiro’s massive charcoal form, decked in navy blue velvet and shimmering gold wristbands, stood in the back behind the driver, his left hand gripping the front seat for balance. Beside him, sprawled casually across the other half of the wide back seat was an enormous grayish-green Drahk, visibly quite a bit larger than the imposing Lord of the Assassins Guild, wearing a dark green sleeveless shirt with insignia badge and gold serpentine bands on his upper biceps.
Ryder was startled that the overlord of the entire Perseun Cluster of star systems who answered only to the Emperor in Draco was dressed in the unassuming garb of a soldier. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from the man who held all of their lives in the palm of his hand, but subdued simplicity would never have occurred to him. He had come to associate excessive ostentation with the arrogance and cruelty of the Drahks, but he quickly realized that the face of tyranny could take on many unexpected masks.
“Bálok is bloody huge!” Gavin whispered beside him, mirroring his own dumbfounded reaction to seeing the Drahkian ruler in the flesh. Ryder nodded numbly as another sensation hit home—the overlord’s sheer size was a patent reminder of the inescapable magnitude of Drahkian control. Like a small child trapped by an abusive adult, the helpless feeling that he could never, ever win tightened his chest with anguish.
The black vehicle crawled forward into the corridor lined by Tiro’s soldiers. Behind them, the sea of reptilians dropped to their knees in a show of subservience and respect for the powerful sovereign. Tiro’s deep voice could be heard above the nervous rustle of the crowd as he made comments to Bálok whose yellow eyes skimmed once over the masses bowing in the square.
“He looks bored,” Ryder whispered in a barely audible voice.
“It’s too bad we can’t give him a taste of one of Abdil’s flares for a little excitement,” Gavin muttered, his mouth twisting with disdain.
Ryder let out a single snort in response. The intense stellar flares that burst out of the red giant every sixty-some odd days had a devastating effect on the off-world reptilian species. The ranking families who owned ships fled the system at the first sign of radiation, leaving the rest of the reptilian population to ride herd over their holdings through the violent madness that ensued. Bálok’s visit had specifically been scheduled between the cyclical flares to avoid any possibility of the overlord being caught in the ravaging storms.
The moment the black sedan finished its pass and pulled out of sight, the packed square broke into a hubbub of noise as people rose from the ground and began to move away. Antsy to return to the comforting quiet of the studio, Ryder kept his expression shuttered as he moved with the throng of Algolians heading back toward the artisan quarter. Gavin walked beside him in companionable silence, matching his elderly gait and leaving him to his solitary thoughts.
They were a couple of blocks past the iron gates of their own quarter when the first flier screeched overhead. Ryder glanced at Gavin whose expression reflected his own wary dismay. The sharp-eyed, long-toothed winged saurs that ranged over the city every night to enforce curfew were generally not released until after second sundown.
“I was afraid they might pull something like this,” he fretted aloud as he started off at a slow run after other craftsmen who were already rushing down the sidewalk. He knew he had to get his studio people home, but he was hesitant to break into his full stride in front of so many sets of eyes.
“Who knows what else they might let out for an extra harvest while Bálok is in the city,” Gavin exclaimed as he came up alongside. “I hope somebody gets those gates closed. Come on, let’s go! I’ll help you,” he said, holding his hand out to the aging goldsmith.
Instinctively Ryder shied away. “I’ll be fine. You go on,” he said, nodding his assurance to the other smith.
“Alright, Ryder, be safe,” Gavin offered with concern before he picked up his speed and disappeared into the river of running people.
Ryder jogged through the streets at a steady pace and arrived at his shop moments after a second beast appeared, gliding over the pedestrian zone. He flew in the front door, startling young Janish in his cleaning chores, and reached quickly to throw the bolt behind him. “Fliers are out early!” he called, tearing into the studio with Janish following closely behind. “Drop your work everyone—let’s go!”
Cautiously opening the door into the back courtyard, Ryder scoped out the sky overhead, listening several long minutes before he ushered all of his charges out into the crate-strewn passage. “Get yourselves home quickly—stay alert!” he said in a low voice. After locking the back door, he fell in with the stream of craftsmen emptying out of the workshops and moving stealthily toward the exit.
Thinking through his usual route home, he reluctantly concluded that he had no choice but to navigate the primary avenue before he could reach any of the lanes and alleys that ran behind most of the long blocks of townhouses south of the business district. No sooner had he turned onto the avenue sidewalk when the feeling of probing eyes gripped him like it had that morning before work. There were plenty of people on the street running for shelter which made it difficult to pin down exactly where the watcher might be. He swung his head sharply in both directions as he ran, searching for the source of invasion, but again came up with nothing he could identify as the possible cause of his unease. His mind raced. No one in their right mind would be following him with the fliers out—unless that someone had no reason to fear the dangerous beasts, a thought he definitely did not want to contemplate.
In spite of the added risk, Ryder quickly decided to take a long route home to see if he could shake himself free of the watching eyes. Running several blocks past his usual turnoff, he darted into an alleyway and ran at his full speed down the darkening passage, carefully crossing the next avenue, and continuing on through a back courtyard on the other side. He zigzagged his way to the deserted lane behind his apartment and before he approached his doorway, he stood next to the wall in the shadows, panting and listening. When he was sure the feeling of being watched was completely gone, he slipped around the corner like a wraith and pulled out his keys, opening the door to the small flat with ginger care before slipping inside without a sound.
He stood in the kitchen for several minutes to catch his breath, glad to be off the street and back in the relative safety of his home. No smell of food this time, he thought distractedly. Perhaps it had been a one-time boon from the woman he had encountered the day before. Crossing the darkened kitchen to the living room and switching on the light, he sent his gaze nervously around the tiny space. Everything was in its place—sketches and pencils all over the table against the wall, heavy curtains drawn across his only window, the single chair at the small kitchen table—and a loaf of fresh bread sitting on a board on the counter. Surprised, he walked back over to the small cooking area and found three chunks of cheese placed neatly beside the bread.
“I could get used to this,” he muttered as he grabbed a knife and sliced off several thick hunks of bread and pieces from each of the cheeses, piling them onto a plate which he set aside on the table while he changed out of his stiff dress clothing.
Throwing on his robe, he shifted into his own form, washed his face and brushed out his long hair before hurrying back to retrieve the plate of food. Stuffing a large chunk of sweet smelling white cheese into his mouth, he walked over to his cluttered drawing table, switched on the small desk light, and stood looking down at his drawings, munching contentedly as he thought about which sketch he wanted to work on next. Setting the plate on the table beside him, he picked up the nearest pencil a
nd sat down, instantly engrossed in a drawing he had started of the male protagonist out of his father’s book.
It was late when Ryder finally put his pencil down and sensed all at once that the invisible eyes were trained on him again. His veins turned to ice as a sudden chill worked its way up his spine. The window—the haunting feeling of a figure standing just outside the window a few feet away made him nearly jump out of his skin.
Bolting up from the table, he dashed across the room, flung open the door, and flew around the corner to the back of the house, but not a soul was in sight, nor did he hear any telltale sound of fleeing footsteps. The narrow lane was empty and nearly pitch black—except for a single sliver of light escaping through a crack in the heavy dark drapes covering his window.
Ryder’s stomach twisted. If Donal was having him watched, he’d have all the evidence he needed now to hand him over to Tiro, no doubt for a sizable reward.
With a miserable sigh, he walked back into his apartment and nervously doused all the lights. The security of his tiny haven had vaporized and been replaced by a gnawing vulnerability. He went to bed and lay awake, staring into the blackness of his bedroom, anxiously wondering when the inevitable shoe would drop.
The following morning, Ryder stalked along his usual path to work, alert and edgy, and made it all the way to the studio without any disturbing sensations. As the day wore on, he found himself on more than one occasion staring off into space, reliving that moment of panic when he knew he had been seen. Each time the bell rang up in the shop with the opening of the front door, he froze and listened, certain that the next voice he heard would be deep and gravelly, announcing his arrest.
When sunset approached, he closed up shop and started for home, not bothering to alter his route since the spy already knew exactly where to find him. It was unnerving nonetheless when he felt the eyes of the watcher latch onto him again. The tingling up his neck was stronger than ever and somehow more insistent. His nerves were strained past the point of his endurance and he knew he had to do something to find out what was going on to alleviate the tension.
Without glancing around, he picked up his pace down the long block of elegant houses, keeping himself quite visible on the sidewalk as he navigated around several individuals making their way home. As soon as he reached the corner, he turned, sprinting forward as soon as he knew he was out of sight of anyone who might be behind him, and made for the entrance to a passageway leading into the courtyard behind the block. He slipped quickly into the alley and ran for the first darkened doorway along the side, concealing himself behind the stone frame of the shallow entrance which gave him a clear view back out to the street as well as anyone walking by. His heart slammed in his chest as he waited, pensively watching the sidewalk to catch a glimpse of whoever was on his tail.
He didn’t have long to wait. Several people passed the alley in their usual hurry to get home with heads tucked down and hands in their pockets, but only one pair of eyes turned to scan the passage searching for someone. They were shimmery and clear, and they belonged to the diminutive new housekeeper.
Ryder frowned. Since the guild had sent the woman in the first place, it made all too much sense that she had also been hired to shadow him. She was already on the payroll and it was obvious from her shabby clothing that she was in dire need of extra money.
He kept himself quite still as he watched her, studying her face as she peered into the darkness of the alley. There was something about her eyes that made him pause—a glimmer of sadness and a touch of desolation slipped out from beneath her bland expression as she shifted her gaze toward the street again, sifting through people who had already gone by.
He waited until the woman moved on past the alley before he stepped out from the doorway and hurried back to the sidewalk to see where she would go. She had come to a stop at the next corner and was looking both ways, hunting for him, and stood for several moments in apparent indecision before her slender shoulders drooped with defeat. He half expected her to cross the intersection to the right and continue on toward his apartment, but she surprised him by moving down the street in the opposite direction. He took off after her, intent on finding out who she was or, more importantly, who she reported to, and followed behind her at a safe distance, keeping her slight figure well within view.
When the woman reached the broad avenue running south from the business district, she took to the sidewalk leading down the gradual incline toward the southern gate in the wall. The light of both suns was almost gone by the time she passed through the open iron doors. For a moment Ryder hesitated—the fliers would be out soon and the gates to the artisan quarter would be closed and locked, but his dire need to know what was going on pressed into his chest leaving him only one choice.
Trusting in his own abilities and speed, Ryder continued on down the hill after the troublesome housekeeper and left the relative protection of his walled neighborhood. He trailed the woman for quite some time as she wound her way through the dingy residential district. He’d never had any reason to come into this older part of the city and he was appalled at the condition of the buildings. The apartment houses and storefronts were in a far greater state of deterioration than he had seen anywhere else in Tessin. Smashed facades, cracked windows, debris and refuse littered most of the blocks. Foul smells met his nostrils on several occasions, reeking of rot or ruptured sanitation lines which would never be repaired.
Ryder kept his eyes pinned on the housekeeper in front of him, wondering just where she was headed in this stinking cesspool when she came to a stop at the entrance to a tall high-rise and disappeared within. The dirty facade was covered with scores of uniform windows illuminated by scattered lights and as he crossed the last street into the block, a quick scan revealed that it was the only intact building left in the entire area. Slipping into the crumbling entry hall of a deserted apartment house across from the high-rise, he leaned against the wall in the shadows, debating what, if anything, this told him about the woman. If she lived here, it merely confirmed that she was poor, but gave him no further clue about her connections. As to the remote possibility that she had come to meet someone, he seriously doubted anyone in the guild, especially the wealthy grand master, would bother to leave the comfort of the artisan quarter to connect with a spy way down here.
Frustrated, he was about to head back home for the night to rethink what he could do about the intolerable situation when he felt the first heavy tremor vibrate the ground beneath his feet. He groaned inwardly, recognizing instantly what it was—a Drahkian raiding party out on a hunt with at least one of their colossal ground saurs.
The thundering booms of a large body smashing against buildings was hideously unmistakable. The sounds of breaking glass and falling rubble flowed into the street from a few blocks away. Lights in the apartment house were immediately doused, making it deplorably clear that the residents of this sector had heard the ominous sounds many times before.
As a piercing bellow split the air, Ryder trembled and fought down the overwhelming urge to flee, telling himself he would wait just long enough to see if the woman made it out. If he lost track of her now, he’d never find out exactly what she had seen or whether she had told anyone about his well-guarded secret.
Men and women came pouring out of the doorway across from where he hid, pensively watching for the face of the housekeeper. People pushed their way out and ran in terrified silence as soon as they made it to the sidewalk while those from the upper floors jammed back into the hallways and stairwells, anxiously waiting to for their chance get out.
Bestial growls echoed sharply off of the sides of the apartment house and the demolished buildings on the street. Ryder peered out from his dark hiding place just as a dark gray head appeared several stories up around the corner of the high-rise and let out a shriek when it spotted the stream of people running on the ground. As the giant saur stepped into the street in front of the apartment building, a stocky reptilian man appeared behind it
shouting guttural commands while firmly holding a heavy chain attached to the beast’s iron collar. At the rear of the party, a band of tall, light-skinned Drahks in brown uniforms sauntered along the street, pointing and issuing orders to the Torg who was handling the animal.
The saur lunged several times over the heads of the crowd, drawing shouts and screams when its snapping jaws came down. A child’s cry rose above the screams and the saur trumpeted wildly, pulling against its chain and springing after a fleeing father who carried a toddler in his arms. The Torg forcibly held the animal in check while two Drahkian soldiers ran forward and seized the father and child, picking both up and hauling them back down the block in the direction from which the party had come.
With a tug and shouted command from its keeper, the beast shifted its attention to bashing its side and immense hind haunches into the building facade. Shattered glass and debris fell tinkling to the ground below as the animal struck repeatedly against the upper stories of the apartment house.
Ryder had almost given up hope of catching sight of the housekeeper when her face appeared among the last of the residents tensely pushing toward the entrance. The moment she reached the edge of the steps, she glanced up at the rampaging beast, her youthful features contorting with raw terror. Ryder’s heart caught in his throat. Making a quick decision, he stepped out from the ruined building and ran into the chaos of the street, moving straight for the clot of people tearing down the short steps.
“Come with me!” he shouted as soon as he was close enough for the woman to hear. Her face flew up, shifting from bewilderment to utter astonishment when she recognized who he was.
“This way!” he urged, motioning back across the street and pointing up the hill in the direction of the artisan quarter. She nodded frantically as she grasped his meaning and pushed her way past several people in a panicked attempt to reach him.
The saur let out a deafening squeal and lurched forward, its enormous foot crushing glass on the pavement a few yards away from where Ryder stood. He turned and ran, making for an opening between two ruined buildings on the opposite side of the street which he hoped might connect through to the next street over. He reached the passage just as another heavy foot fell on the road behind him, shaking the ground under his feet, followed by a loud bang as the beast’s big head hammered into the crumbling wall above the passage, sending a shower of rubble streaming down into the alley. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the small woman standing just inside the entrance with her arms above her head to deflect the falling stones.
Flare Shifter Page 3