by S. L. Viehl
“We don’t know. She is very hard to kill, that much I can attest to.” The League general rose. “Whatever she is, she is my price for providing assistance to you.”
Gohliya weighed the demand. He needed the crystals to gain irrevocable control over the Kangal. On the other hand, what man would not be tempted by the prospect of immortality?
“Her value would surpass that of your crystals,” Shropana said, his voice rough, “except that she also carries a Hsktskt blood price on her head.”
That decided it. Gohliya would not antagonize his suppliers in the Faction for what was only a slim chance at immortal life. If this Terran woman was being hunted by the Hsktskt, she would need ten armies to protect her.
“If she lives, she will be yours.” He checked the time and stood. “The banquet will be starting shortly. Let me show you to your quarters so you can freshen up for the festivities.”
Janzil Ches Orjakis had watched Gohliya’s attempt to interrogate his former slave. The general had not employed the console, but Orjakis was sure it was not out of respect for the Kangal’s demand that the rebel leader remain untouched. Gohliya, he suspected, had ordered three of his men to methodically beat the Raktar while he was being transported from the planet to Skjonn. Now the magnificent creature was covered with wounds, and not one of them inflicted by hands that would adore doing so.
It was not the only thing the general had done to cheat Orjakis. He always has to spoil things.
What had to be dealt with, and soon, could not ruin the Kangal’s mood entirely. There were too many pleasant things happening for Orjakis now. The League ambassador, a charming male with the most elegant turn of phrase, had made many significant promises. The Toskald need not continue being made to serve slavers; now, that had been particularly inspired. The League was willing to forget all the unpleasantness of the past and become friends to the Toskald.
All he had to do was make the right impression at the banquet, and slit his Defense general’s throat before Gohliya did the same to him.
Orjakis suddenly realized he had nothing to wear to the banquet, and summoned ten dressage drones. “We require new garments brought for our inspection, Senior Dressage. A selection of one hundred to begin.”
The drone he had addressed scooted forward. “I see Janzil Ches Orjakis, Kangal of Skjonn. We would happily supply the Kangal with all the Kangal requests, but Acquisitions has no more garments worthy of our Kangal.”
“We are not asking for weapons, ships, or men, only that which may enhance our physical perfection.” Orjakis frowned. “Why are there no more garments worthy of us?”
“Garments for the Kangal have always been created from materials provided through tithe tribute,” the drone stated. “No such materials have been delivered for eight months, nineteen suns, and—”
“Enough.” Orjakis waved the drone away and gnawed at his lip. How would he look beautiful for his new League friends if there was nothing for him to wear? “Shall we go naked to our own banquet?”
None of the drones responded, as they had not been addressed directly.
“This is infuriating. We are the Kangal of Skjonn.” Orjakis paced around the chamber before he stopped. This repulsive situation might actually solve his other problem, namely finding out what Gohliya had planned for him. All he had to do was have one of the slaves take his place at the banquet for a short time while he searched the general’s offices and planted another recording drone. For that, he would need his own disguise. “Senior Dressage, summon Defense’s lackey—what is his name?”
“Defense’s senior staff consists of Commander Lopaul, Lieutenant Commander Fhren, Lieutenant Commander Appulus—”
“Lopaul. That one is his favorite, and precisely the right size.” Orjakis rubbed his arms. “Summon Lopaul to our presence.”
TWENTY
Reever maneuvered the patrol ship into the abandoned docks using only lift thrusters. It took longer to move the ship into position, but there was less chance that their minimal energy signature would attract attention from the city’s defenses.
“The dock is clear,” he told the women after scanning the area.
Resa, Jarn, and the other vral were already waiting to exit the ship, and followed Hasal and Sogayi out as soon as the docking ramp had been extended. Reever secured the helm and locked down the ship’s controls. Daneeb stayed behind to open the lower cargo hold doors.
Once the other women were off the ship, Reever closed the outer door panels and waited for her. Daneeb slowed her step as she emerged back into the cabin and saw him, but went to her pack and begun to dress.
“I am astonished, ensleg,” she said to Reever as she donned her robes. “You did not crash us after all.”
“You are welcome.” He checked his blades. “Daneeb, there is something I must know before we go into the palace. Why did you never tell Resa what happened, that day on the ice?”
She went still. “I spend every day on the ice. Of which do you speak?”
“You know the day.” The images he had taken from the mind of the nurse still haunted him. “The day the child was sacrificed to protect the skela. Why, after that, did you conceal the truth of how that was done from her?”
“I do not know what you mean.” Daneeb quickly covered her face. “I have nothing to say to you, anyway. You tried to break my neck. I should skewer you before I begin on the Tos’.”
“The sequence of events is not important.” Reever came to stand before her. “The two years you have kept your silence are. Did you lie to protect her, or both of them? I must know.”
She recovered from her shock quickly. “You speak nonsense. I have a general to find, and windlords to kill.” When she tried to push past him, he caught her by the arms. “You are crazy. I have lied to no one.”
Reever caught the fist she drove at his face. “You will tell them what happened that day on the ice.”
“You know nothing.”
“I know everything. Malmi was there, and for a one-eyed woman, she saw a great deal.” He met her furious gaze. “This will be your last chance to tell the truth. She leaves with me today.”
Daneeb smirked. “You think she will go with you, just so easily? You dream out loud, ensleg. You are nothing in her heart. She doesn’t know you. She has forgotten everything about you.”
“She will remember.” Reever released her. “Tell them everything, Daneeb, or I will.”
He opened the hull doors and walked down the ramp. Hasal was organizing the women into smaller groups and going over with Sogayi how to gain access to the palace through the least-guarded entrance.
“They keep the drone guards at the busiest entries, so they may scan all the people coming in and out.” Hasal was walking around, checking the women’s robes and faces. “Say nothing. I am your escort; Sogayi is the only one who speaks.” He checked the Toskald uniform he wore before glancing at Reever. “You cannot come with us. They will have scans posted of you.”
“I will not be caught,” he assured Hasal as he pulled on the robe of a slave trader.
“Be it on your head.” Hasal turned to Jarn. “Sogayi’s daughter is kept with the other children of the palace, in the sublevel beneath the courtyard. When you begin, that is where I will go. I will bring Poma back here to the ship and wait.”
Reever scanned the faces of the vral. They did not appear frightened, or even apprehensive, at the prospect of entering the most heavily guarded structure in the city. They knew what would happen to them if their ruse was discovered. It did not matter. Only their Raktar did. He was the center of their small, war-torn universe.
You are nothing in her heart. She doesn’t know you. She has forgotten everything about you.
Daneeb’s words didn’t frighten him. Whether she remembered or not, whether she was willing or not, Reever was leaving Akkabarr today with his wife.
Teulon had heard the general issue the orders that he not be beaten again. They were ignored, for the most part, as two gu
ards dragged him from the interrogation chamber and into a preparation room. One well-aimed baton sent him back into the darkness.
He woke again when an icy splash of water struck him in the face.
“No more, Kallis, he is bleeding from the nose and mouth.” A rough cloth scoured Teulon’s face. “The general will have our hides for this.”
“My brother died at Bjola,” the guard named Kallis said. “I want due for my family.”
“So do we all, but the Kangal will take it for us. Now prop him up.” Cold alloy bands cinched tightly around Teulon’s neck, chest, waist, knees, and ankles. “Watch the neck. He can’t breathe.” The constricting band loosened. “Better. Are we supposed to do something with his face?”
“Why? Let them see the animal for what he is.” Another kick landed in Teulon’s ribs.
“Enough, Kallis. He has to live through the banquet, at least.” Footgear shuffled, and a winch was engaged.
Teulon remained limp, keeping his muscles and chest distended as much as possible. Through the slits of his eyelids he saw they had bound him to a Hsktskt discipline post attached to a glidecart base.
“All right.” Hands checked the alloy bonds. “He’s secure. Let’s move him out.”
The pole jerked, and Teulon was hauled out of the room and into a long, wide corridor empty of people. The guards were behind him, steering the cart, so he kept his head hung low while he inspected his surroundings. The corridor opened out into a seven-sided courtyard under a transparent dome. Large tables, lavishly decorated, were set and ready to hold food and drink. Slaves dressed in celebratory livery were setting out the large round floor cushions upon which the guests would recline. A group of drones occupied one discreet corner, where they were making fine adjustments on Toskald musical instruments.
“The old man said to put him in the center of the yard.” Kallis said. “Raise him higher. Yes, like that. He thinks himself above all; let him hang there.”
The sun was in Teulon’s eyes, and he closed them. He understood the necessity to display and humble an enemy before kin, but his people took the matter far more seriously than the Toskald. They did not treat enemies as if they were no more threatening than a place setting or a floral centerpiece.
I should have tried to break my neck with the chains before they took me down.
He had exacting control over his body, control he had learned from his months on the slaver ship. If the Kangal decided to begin his torture here, at this feast, it would not be in earnest. Orjakis would wait until he was away from the eyes that by law had to be on him before he shed his armor of vanity and truly enjoyed himself.
Teulon had seen Orjakis do that. He preferred to die here, now.
Because he had kept his lungs filled and his muscles distended, the bands supporting his body were not as secure as they should have been. The guards had removed his tunic and his footgear, leaving him only his trousers. His body was still damp from the water they had used to revive him. The guards had raised him up almost a meter from the ground. Once he freed himself from all but the band encircling his neck, there would be no support for his body weight. If his neck did not snap and end his life, the loss of blood to his brain would do so.
The sun slowly moved over the curve of the clear dome overhead. Once the tables were prepared, the welldressed slaves disappeared into the palace. Teulon was left alone with the drone musicians, who practiced short measures and then fell idle, as they were not programmed to play to an empty room.
Men facing death often took notice of things they had never regarded much in the past, and Teulon was no exception. The Toskald’s ridiculous table decor was made of real flowers, and it had been years since he had smelled the scent of fresh blooms. None were like the flowers of Joren, but they reminded him of home. The color of the material used as draping and table coverings was almost the same shade as the sea had been when he and Akara had walked together on the dark sands that first week he had spent at her family’s HouseClan. The brilliant blue of the manganese tiles on the courtyard floor reminded him of his son Xan’s skin.
The shapeless, formless ghost from the little blue cave materialized in front of his face. Or perhaps the pain was making him hallucinate. He would never know, and it mattered not anymore.
“Spirit,” he greeted her, and then saw the shapeless light take form.
Bondmate, Akara said, floating in front of him.
Teulon wondered if he had been drugged. It was you, in the cave, all this time?
She answered him as if she could read his thoughts. Two that are made one can never be parted, my heart, but I think this will be the last time I come to you. For there is another now.
No. He tugged at his bonds, trying to free a hand. There will never be anyone but you. He looked into the ghost light of her eyes. “Take me with you.”
Akara shook her head slowly. I will wait, my heart. There is another who will honor you in my place. This is my gift to you, Teulon. I release you from our Choice.
The spirit of his dead bondmate drifted over him, only the barest movement of the air, and wrapped herself around him. Teulon’s head fell back as the scent of her filled his head. Something touched his face. Gradually the embrace faded.
When he opened his eyes, the vision of Akara was gone.
Teulon thought of nothing as he began to work the edge of one claw against the strap at his waist. He did not sever it completely, but made it so that it would snap with one jerk of his body. By the time he had rendered it so, his claw had worn through and snapped off. He waited to assure he was not bleeding again before inching his hand up to the band across his chest.
By the time the slaves began ushering in welldressed men and women and seating them at the tables, Teulon had all of the straps around his body prepared, and had worked the strap at his ankles loose enough to slip his feet out of it. He went motionless and hung with his head down, pretending to be unconscious when some of the braver attendees came over to inspect him.
One couple discussed the prospect of purchasing him. “My, he is a large, strong specimen. Think of the work that we could get out of this one.” The male, a slim and handsome Toskald official, tried to reach up and test the muscles of Teulon’s leg with his hand.
The woman with him, a breathtakingly lovely female who looked no older than an adolescent girl, eyed the snarl of hair covering Teulon’s face. “Not Iisleg, obviously. Lovely skin. What species is he, darling?”
“Jorenian, I think.” The man stepped back to have another look. “I’d have to see the eyes to be sure.”
“I may be able to persuade the Kangal to sell him to me,” the woman said. “I did give Orjakis that pretty little feral woman he took a fancy to at our last party.”
“If he’s a Jorenian, dear, that would be a very bad bargain.” Her male companion slipped his arm around her and guided her away from Teulon. “You know they never last long in captivity.”
Guests soon lined every table, but the balcony directly across from Teulon, where the Kangal would come out to greet his guests, remained empty. Slaves carried out platters of food and took their positions, waiting for the prince of the city to appear so they could begin to serve. The Kangal’s highest officials, the last to arrive, were finally in place, and Orjakis still did not make an appearance. The guests began whispering, then murmuring.
General Gohliya rose from his table and walked over to stand beneath the balcony. He held up his hands for silence. “Colleagues, allies, and friends of the Toskald, I welcome you to the Kangal’s celebration of victory over the Iisleg rebels.”
Teulon closed his eyes.
“Our beloved prince has been unavoidably detained, no doubt in preparations to please us, as he always does. As I am but a soldier in the service of our great city of Skjonn, I cannot hope to greet you with the eloquence he would offer. The Kangal sent a message to beg us all to enjoy ourselves until he can join us. So.” There was a clapping of hands. “Let the banquet begin.”
Sogayi led Hasal and the vral to the office of the palace steward. The man was so nervous about the banquet arrangements that he raised no alarm over their arrival.
“Procurement said nothing to me about entertainment with whores and animals,” he said to Hasal.
“It is a surprise for the Kangal. Here is the order for it.” He took out a stunner and shot the steward. To Jarn, he said, “I will go and get the girl now. Wait as Sogayi says, until the music begins.”
Jarn had ordered that Sogayi not carry any weapons, but the Iisleg woman had managed to conceal a blade. As the vral entered the corridor outside the courtyard, she fell back and then ran silently after Hasal, keeping to the shadows so that he would not see her. She waited outside the level where the Kangal’s children were kept, and met him when he came out, alone and silent.
“Poma?” she asked, looking around him for her daughter.
He looked at her. “She is not here.”
“But she cares for his children.”
“There are no children here. Only a drone and a disposal pit. I accessed the drone’s memory core.” Hasal caught her by the arm as she tried to go around him. “She is dead. They are all dead.”
Sogayi didn’t believe him. She had to go inside and find her daughter. So Hasal took her into the execution chamber, and showed her the remains of the infants and young children that had been dumped there.
“We will return to the courtyard.” he said, looking down into the pit of bones. “The vral need—” He crumpled to the floor.
Sogayi pulled her blade out of his back and wiped the blood on her robe. “I need,” she said as she stripped him out of his uniform. “I need.”
Once she had put on the uniform and tucked her hair back in Toskald fashion, she left the chamber and headed for the level where the Kangal’s private chambers were located. It was there that she saw him walk out. He was dressed in a Defense staff uniform, and his face was clean of his usual cosmetics, but it was him. He headed in the direction of the courtyard.