"I doubt if he'll meet with much success. No intrusion from the physical realm is allowed to interfere with the holy ceremonies, or something like that."
"What?" Raoul yelled.
Xris shook his head. Forget it, he mouthed.
The procession was nearing the temple. The crowd surged forward. The baroness's troops—guarding the parade route— shoved the people back. The Little One was bowled over and nearly trampled. Raoul hauled his friend to his feet. Xris caught hold of both of them, dragged them close to him. No one came too near the cyborg. Those who did gave the metal arm and leg—with their flashing lights and ominous beeping sounds—a startled glance and backed off as far as they could.
The head of the procession moved slowly toward them. In the vanguard was a double line of robed and hooded men and women, singing a hymn of praise to the Goddess, carrying fruits of Her bounty in their arms as offerings. Behind them marched the dignitaries. Among them, expressing his respect and reverence for a religion that had, in the old days, rivaled his own, walked the archbishop of the Order of Adamant. The days of animosity and intolerance between the two religions were over and, though certain radical members of each group continued to cause strife, the majority of clerics in both orders worked hard to maintain peace.
"Too bad we did not think to disguise ourselves," yelled Raoul in the cyborg's good ear.
Xris looked down at his own steel weapons hand, glanced at the lip-glossed and rouged Adonian, and snorted. "What as? Dancing girls?"
Raoul appeared about to comment on this, but the Little One suddenly tugged urgently on his sleeve. The raincoated arm lifted and a small hand emerged pointing at the passing group of singing men and women now filing inside the temple door. Raoul cocked his head toward his friend, then sidled close to the cyborg.
"Friend Xris," he said in a low, urgent tone, "the Little One tells me that those clerics are not thinking holy thoughts. They are hostile and full of evil intent."
"What?" Xris looked down at the empath. "Is he sure? You said he was shaken up—"
"He is certain," said Raoul. The drugged slur had disappeared from the voice; the shimmering eyes were actually in focus. "He says they carry weapons of destruction beneath their robes."
"And they're marching right into the temple!" Xris swore in frustration. "And here we stand."
"Alert the guards...."
That was a possibility. Xris took one look at the heads of government, the arts, religion, moving up the hill. Once the shooting started . . . He shook his head. "They probably wouldn't believe us anyway. By the time we convinced them, it'd be too late. Damn it, we've got to get inside! I—By God!" he said suddenly, his gaze on the procession of dignitaries. "There's the answer. Brother Daniel!"
"Who? Where?" Raoul blinked his pink-lidded eyes.
"The archbishop! Brother Daniel. Don't you remember? With Lady Maigrey—"
"Ah, yes! Do you think he will remember us?"
"I don't see how he could ever forget," Xris said grimly. He was busy surreptitiously arming his weapons hand.
Raoul stood on tiptoe, waving the pink silken scarf he'd removed from around his neck. "Yoo-hoo! Brother Dani—"
"You idiot!" Xris grabbed hold of the Loti, dragged him down. "Don't draw attention to us! Not yet, at any rate. The Little One got any of those sleep-drugged darts on him?"
The fedora was bobbing up and down enthusiastically.
"He says yes."
"Tell him to load up. At my signal, go into one of your fits. Head for the archbishop. The Little One and I'll see you get a clear path. Got it?"
"Ah, yes!" Raoul glittered. "A fit. And what do I do when I get there? Do I get to kiss anyone?"
"No, damn it! Drop like rock. I'll handle it from there. The Little One know what to" do?"
"Yes, he is most—"
"I don't care what he is. Those bastards are already inside. Wait till the archbishop gets opposite us . . . Ready . . . Now!"
Raoul sucked in a breath, let out a piercing shriek. Xris, knowing it was coming, was still unprepared for it. The Loti's scream was tortured, truly terrifying, and had the effect of causing those standing around him to make a concerted effort to get somewhere else. Even those in the procession came to a confused halt, heads craning to see what was going on.
Raoul was now twitching and foaming at the mouth and doing a spastic dance—the very image of a Loti on a bad trip.
Three of the baroness's guards started toward him. The Little One clapped his hand to his mouth. One of the guards winced, slapped at her neck as if she'd been stung by a bug. The next moment, she was prostrate on the ground. Her two companions had their hands out, ready to catch hold of the gyrating Raoul.
Xris grabbed one with his steel hand, sent a mild jolt of electricity through her body. She stiffened and collapsed, writhing on the ground. A kick of his steel leg sent the other guard crashing back into the milling crowd.
People fighting to get away from the Loti opened up a path that led right to the highway. Seemingly oblivious to what was going on, Raoul jerked and twisted rapidly out of the crowd, dove headfirst to the ground right in front of the archbishop, and, with another horrible scream, curled up in a fist-clenching pink velvet ball at the priest's feet.
Xris was right behind him. The cyborg threw his own body protectively over Raoul, looked up into the archbishop's shocked face,
"Brother Daniel!" said Xris swiftly, speaking in the military argot used by the Warlord's men. "Remember us?"
Archbishop Fideles looked at him closely, gasped. "Xris!"
"Play along with me!" die cyborg told him. He raised his voice, switched to the language of Ceres. "The Adonian is dying! Give him your blessing Holiness!"
The guards crowded around. Two of them seized hold of the archbishop, intent on guarding him from possible danger.
"An outrage! Remove this man! How dare you—"shouted another member of the Order of Adamant, who was also trying to drag the archbishop away.
The guards had lasguns aimed at Xris's head.
"Halt this madness!" Fideles demanded loudly and forcefully, his voice carrying over the tumult, as it had once carried in the confusion of battle. "You, Prior John. Stand away. Give this poor man air. And you call yourself God's minister." He cast a withering glance at the prior, who fell back in offended dignity.
"You, guards. Leave the poor man alone! Put away your weapons! You are on holy ground!
The guards, moving slowly and reluctantly, did as the archbishop commanded. They stood back, leaving a clear space around the prostrate man and his friends, though they kept their guns leveled at Xris. The crowd in front had fallen silent, trying their best to hear, shushing those in back who couldn't see and were demanding to know what was going on.
The archbishop knelt down, laid his hand on Raoul's forehead. Fideles was trying hard not to notice that Raoul had winked at him.
"What in the name of heaven, Xris—" Fideles began in an undertone.
"The queen's in danger." Xris leaned close to the archbishop, pretending to be ministering to the stricken Adonian. "Those clerics who went into the temple aren't clerics. The Little One spotted them."
"God save us!" Fideles exclaimed in horror. "Who sent you?"
"Lord Sagan," said Xris.
Dixter hadn't told the cyborg much, just enough.
Fideles stared, then closed his eyes in relief. "Thank God! I had not heard from him. I was beginning to think—"
"No time for that now, Brother!" Xris interrupted grimly. "Get us inside!"
"Yes, of course. You're right." Fideles gathered up his heavy ceremonial robes and rose to his feet. "This man is in desperate need of medical attention. Let him be carried into the temple."
"But Holiness! That is not possible!" One of the temple priests came dashing forward. "He is a Loti! It would be a sacrilege—"
"He is one of the Goddess's children, however unworthy!" Fideles returned sternly. "Far greater sacrilege if he dies out here on the
temple steps."
Xris had lifted Raoul, was holding him tenderly. The Adonian looked quite pale and pitiful, his eyes closed, his body lifeless, his long black hair hanging almost to the ground. The Little One clung to Raoul's limp hand like a frightened child to its sick mother.
Either the priest was moved by true concern for a fellow mortal or by the thought (cleverly introduced by Fideles) of a Loti—surrounded by reporters—breathing his last on the temple steps. The priest gave orders for the wretched man to be carried inside. Guards surrounded them, hustled them swiftly into the temple, away from the curious eyes of the crowd and the vidcams.
Fideles looked after them worriedly. Forced to return to the ceremonial procession, the archbishop said and did what he was supposed to say and do. But those around him noted that he appeared worried and preoccupied. Prior John whispered that the incident had badly upset the Holy Father, and everyone was extremely kind and solicitous to the archbishop.
Little did Prior John know that the archbishop was trying his level best to figure out some way of shaking loose those obtuse fools and hurrying off to join his former comrades-in-arms.
Chapter Five
CHRIS: Go ahead, Lee. You don't owe anything to anybody.
LEE: Except to myself.
The Magnificent Seven
Kamil had been granted leave to attend the religious ceremonies if she chose, but she perversely declined, declaring that she would spend the day in her room. In truth, she would have liked to have seen the ceremonies and witnessed the rites, but refusing to do so gave her a feeling of control over her situation and she took a certain grim delight in exercising it.
Not that she lacked control. She was not a prisoner—at least not a prisoner of the queen's. Kamil could have walked out the enormous front doors of the temple at any time she chose. The cyborg, Xris, who had brought her here, was waiting—by the queen's command—to take her back, take her wherever she wanted to go. The bindings were off her arm. The limb was stiff but healing well. Each day Kamil told herself that tomorrow would be the day she left.
Each day tomorrow came, and another tomorrow would be invoked.
Kamil offered various excuses to herself—Astarte would see reason, Astarte would agree to step aside, Astarte would this or Astarte would that.
But, of course, Astarte never would and Kamil knew it. The real reason she was staying here was that it was easy to stay here. If she left—when she left—Kamil would have to make a decision. She would have to face Dion, face herself, face the fact of them together. Their lovemaking, which had seemed so wonderful and beautiful and a little bit daring and thrilling, was now something tawdry and shabby, secretive and furtive. In the dark night, when she lay sleepless, tears drying on her cheeks, Kamil knew that she could never again think of only the two of them. From now on, there would always be a third person, watching silently, sadly from the shadows.
Kamil felt ashamed and guilty, and she hated feeling ashamed, hated feeling guilty. It was Astarte who made her feel this way, and therefore Kamil found it convenient to hate Astarte.
"Why did you have to ruin everything?" Kamil had demanded of her rival one day, when they were walking together in the quiet solitude of the temple gardens. "Everything was fine. No one was getting hurt. Not you! You don't care about him. Not Dion. All you care about is the king. You can have the king. Let me have Dion."
Astarte had looked at her with those lovely clear eyes and there was sorrow in them. "I wish I could. For his sake, I wish I could. A part of him will be lonely when you are gone. A loneliness I can never fill. But it cannot be." She shook her head. "It must not be."
Then I'll take him! He'll divorce you! He's already considering it! Kamil had wanted to shout at her, but she hadn't. She had only walked away. Astarte's calmness, her understanding, her acceptance, her sorrow, baffled Kamil. It was like battling an enemy who throws down all her weapons and stands and stares at you. Refusing to surrender, yet refusing to fight.
Kamil was going over all this for the thousandth time in her mind, and had just decided that she would most definitely leave tomorrow, when the sounds of the approaching procession came in through her open window. Tired of her own company, glad for some distraction, she walked out to one of the high temple walls, from which she had an excellent view. Leaning over it, she watched with gloomy interest the thousands of people shifting and swaying far below.
The head of the procession was just entering the temple steps—a group of robed men and women, singing and bearing fruit and grains in tribute to the Goddess's bounty. Restless, Kamil was about to leave and return to her room when she noticed some sort of disturbance taking place down below.
The procession straggled to a halt. She couldn't make out what was happening; the crowd was swirling around in disorder. Then the mob parted. Guards shoved people back. The archbishop was involved, to judge by his ornate and colorful robes. And then a man was carrying what looked to be a garishly glad woman inside the temple.
Sunlight flashed off a metal arm. Kamil leaned perilously far out over the wall to get a better look. It was Xris! The cyborg was carrying a woman into the temple.
"How odd," Kamil said aloud, talking to herself. "How extremely odd. But then I'm not surprised someone was hurt. Considering the mass of people down there. Still, it's strange Xris should be involved. I wouldn't think he'd have been interested in this sort of thing."
The healers would be prepared to take care of whoever it was. The infirmary had been restocked with supplies for the event, more beds added. Religious ecstasy generally felled several of the more zealous. Apparently someone had been affected early.
But Xris involved . . . The more Kamil thought about it, the less sense it made.
"I'll just go see what's going on. I need to talk to Xris anyway," she added, somewhat ashamed of her own morbid curiosity. "I need to discuss plans for leaving. This will be the perfect opportunity."
The gardens and grounds were empty; most of the inhabitants were either on duty in the arena or busy in other parts of the temple. Kamil returned to the main building, entered through a side door, and passed quickly down the maze of hallways. She had learned her way around in the past days. The infirmary was located in a back wing off the main building. It had its own private garden and tropical solarium, complete with a pool of bubbling hot, healing waters.
Gliding soft-footed into the sickroom, Kamil cast a quick glance around. None of the healers took any particular notice of her; she had taken to dressing in the comfortable, loose-fitting gowns all the women wore. But she didn't see the cyborg. No one was in a state of quiet alarm; no one was fussing over a new patient.
"Now, this is odd," she stated to herself, "I would have thought they'd be here by now. I wonder what's going on." She left the infirmary, went back into the hall, turned, headed for the front entryway.
The halls she walked were empty. All was quiet within the temple walls, a quiet made eerie and unnatural by contrast with the cheering and singing that could be heard outside.
Kamil rounded a corner and was proceeding down the main hallway when a strange-looking personage clad in a too-long raincoat and a battered hat suddenly appeared out of nowhere, popping up directly in front of her like the evil demon pops up in a fairy tale. The person made no sound. Two astonishingly bright eyes stared at her.
Gasping in shock, Kamil nearly tumbled over the small figure. She tried to dodge around.it ... a hand clapped over her mouth. Strong arms dragged her into an empty room.
"Don't scream," said a faintly mechanical voice in grim tones. "I'm not going to hurt you. I need information and I need it fast. The life of your High Priestess is in danger."
The hand on her mouth loosened slightly. Kamil squirmed in the cyborg's hold, which was like a metal vice.
"Xris! It's me!" she mumbled, tugging at his hand.
And either he understood her or he had just taken a good look at her.
"Kamil?" he said in astonishment, letting her go.<
br />
Trying to recover from her shock and fright, she leaned dizzily against a wall.
Xris stared at her a moment, then grunted. "Sorry. I didn't recognize you in that getup."
"What's going on?" she demanded. "What are—" She stopped.
Another odd-looking figure had appeared at the cyborg's shoulder—the person Xris had carried into the temple. Male or female, Kamil couldn't tell at first glance, but it had to be one of the most extraordinary people she'd ever seen. And certainly one of the most colorful.
"The priestess who brought us here rests comfortably, friend Xris," said the flamboyant beauty. "I do not believe she has been permanently damaged. She has simply fainted—out of fear, I think. You were rather severe on her."
"I don't have time to play nice," Xris said. Half of a soggy twist drooped from his mouth. He regarded Kamil grimly. "Do you know where something called the Cavern of the Holy Goddess is?"
"Yes, I've been there, but—"
"Good." Xris gripped her by the arm, began propelling her across the room toward a window. "Where is it? Can you see it from here?"
"You can't go there!" Kamil protested. "Astarte's there, praying. She'll be there all day. We're forbidden to disturb her—"
She paused. "What do you mean, she's in danger?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Just show me where this damn cave is."
He thrust her bodily at the window.
Kamil, frightened by his intensity, pointed. "Do you see that giant oak tree, the one way, way up the side of the cliff? That tree stands in front of the cavern. You can't see the cave. It's hidden."
"How do you get there?"
"A road leads to it You can see part of it from here—that white trail leading up the mountainside. It's made of crushed marble. ..."
"According to the Little One, the invaders know the way," said the pink velvet beauty. "They move with swiftness, purpose, and resolve."
Xris adjusted his mechanical eye, brought the road in focus, stared intently into the groves of trees and bushes at the foot of the sacred mountain. "Yeah, I can see 'em. That's the way they're headed, too." He glanced at Kamil. "I don't suppose there's another way to get up there?"
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