The Broken Cage (Solstice 31 Saga Book 2)

by Martin Wilsey

  Em came along–docked into the cargo bay with legs folded in and covered with a sailcloth tarp, like the other pallets in the hold–to provide BUG drone support and EmNet comms with the team.

  Burke stayed with Ronan, as always.

  Ronan’s estate was vast. Barcus estimated that just the formally groomed part was over 1,000 acres. It backed up to the forest at the base of the mountains that made up one side of the valley the Exeter filled. As the sun set and the clouds blazed with light, they set down on a formal patio, near the residence.

  The passenger compartment of Ronan’s shuttle was below the flight deck and had its own exit on the left side. When the door opened, it was exactly how Ronan said it would be. Two flanking rows of armed guards with swords and crossbows stood at attention. His castellan waited at the bottom of the ornate, portable staircase that had been placed for their use.

  Ronan made his way out, with the entourage in tow, in a predefined order. They were to speak to no one. Barcus, Rand, and Worthington walked behind Ulric, who was followed a pace behind by Po and Grady.

  Barcus and Jimbo scanned around, constantly, on each side. Barcus noticed that Burke stayed behind to supervise the unloading of the shuttle and to ensure no one became curious about the final item that remained in the shuttle.

  The group entered through massive double doors that opened before them. Barcus steeled himself for what he knew he would see there.

  There were nearly 200 women, on their knees, with their foreheads on the floor, lining the vast hallway. All wore the same deep green, single button dress. Their hair was long and in braids that cascaded down the left side of their necks, if they were on the left, and the right side of their necks, if they knelt on the right side.

  Every vase was filled with fresh flowers, beautifully arranged. There were bowls of fresh fruits that Barcus assumed were selected for their beautiful color combinations. Ronan grabbed a golden apple from one bowl as he walked by; and, bit into it, as he listened to the balding castellan, while he looked at the offered plate display.

  They eventually entered a center atrium that held massive staircases that rose to the six additional upper levels. Ronan had told him it was used, sometimes, for grand balls for the aristocrats of Exeter. They ascended a staircase and moved into a wing of the building that was his private residence.

  Guards opened the double doors at the end of the hall, before they reached it. Polished marble floors gave way to thick carpet, beyond the door. The doors closed behind them.

  Ronan stopped in the center of a large receiving parlor, beyond the nave to the suite. He turned to address the group.

  “Well done.” He brought the balding man forward. The man was now more relaxed, even smiling. “This is my Castellan, and friend, Jacob Riehl. He runs things at the Ronan Estate. I know you will not be here long, but if you need anything at all, please ask him.

  “Jacob, this is Ulric, Grady and Po.”

  He shook the men’s hands and then extended his hand to Po.

  “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Po. I hear you’re quite the pilot.” Jacob stood there, hand extended, apparently happy to wait as long as necessary until she, finally, shook his hand.

  Not waiting for Ronan, he said, “And, you must be Rand. You can take your helmet off in here, but only in here, I think.”

  She took off her helmet, tucked it under her left arm and shook his hand firmly.

  Finally, he greeted Jimbo and Barcus. “Gentlemen, I am honored to meet you both.”

  Ronan studied the plate Jacob had handed him. He looked up, then.

  “We will have a private dinner here in two hours. That will give you time to clean up,” Ronan said, as ten young women filed in, wearing the same deep green dress that was the uniform there.

  “I will let my staff introduce themselves. I consider them family. They will show you to your rooms and the baths that are waiting.”

  As two women led off each of the men, smiling and introducing themselves, Po moved closer to Barcus as she visibly tensed.

  Two women approached Po. One spoke, “Don’t worry, Po. Ronan told us all about you and Barcus.” The woman placed one hand on her own chest and gestured to her partner with the other, and said, “My name is Teek, and this is Ro.” She motioned for them to follow, together. “We will show you to your rooms and help you.”

  To Barcus, she said, “Ronan thinks you should shave, so you blend in better.” She talked and walked now, down a side hall. “We have fresh clothes for you, as well.”

  “Jacob told us what happened,” Ro said, “We are very sorry for your loss.”

  Barcus nodded thanks and looked at Po. She seemed aghast. Ro was not a girl. He saw it in Ro’s expression change. She was a woman of perhaps thirty years. “What’s wrong, Po?” Barcus asked.

  “How is it that you speak to him so?” Po asked them. “This is Exeter.”

  Ro looked at Teek. Teek answered, “Within these walls, these private rooms, we are in the East Isles, not Exeter. There are no anvils here,” Teek said, seriously.

  Ro added, “Ronan said we are to treat you as we treat him within these walls, even though you are the Man from Earth.” She smiled, with no fear. “He even said if I gut punched you, you would, in fact, NOT eat me.”

  Suddenly, Barcus knew who she was. This was Ronan’s daughter.

  “You, probably not. Teek might be tasty though,” Barcus joked.

  Po was the one to punch him first, quickly, followed by Ro and, finally, Teek.

  None were aware that AI~Em watched them from thirty-two angles.

  ***

  Barcus allowed Teek to shave his face, as he sat in a barber’s chair in a room off the bathroom suite. Ro wandered about the various rooms with Po, chatting and laughing at the different types of baths in the suite. It had a large shower room, a steam room, a cold plunge pool, and soaking tubs in a selection of sizes and shapes.

  When the shave was completed, Ro and Teek made a smooth exit, saying they would be back, in about an hour. They never even offered to bathe with them, to Po’s relief.

  The door was barely closed before they were undressing, and Barcus was surprised to see Po selected the shower first.

  “I like showers.”

  They washed each other’s hair, and bodies, to their great relief and…release. They soaked in one of the tubs, after making love, standing up, in the shower.

  “I have never felt this clean, this whole, before.” Po sighed. Barcus just smiled, enjoying the quiet in his mind, trying not to imagine the screams of the dying.

  They soaked until they were wrinkled. Climbing out, they used thick, soft towels and put on comfortable robes.

  They found Teek and Ro in the suite's great room, sitting on the sofas before the fire, reading actual books. They noticed the look on Po’s face.

  “Ronan loves books,” Ro said, marking her place. “He has a beautiful library in the East Isles, in his private residence.” She motioned for them to sit across from her.

  “On Baytirus, a library is considered a vice. Real books are frowned upon. If you do your reading from a plate, the High Keeper knows exactly what you are reading, and who is reading it.”

  Barcus listened and tried not to care. They will be gone in a few days. They will have their own problems.

  “What are you reading?” Barcus asked, conversationally.

  “A book of poems. Rare are these,” Ro said, wistfully.

  Teek stood and walked to another double set of doors and opened one side. “We have laid out appropriate clothes for you. Dinner will be served, soon. Just follow your nose. Ronan is cooking, again.”

  Teek and Ro left their suite and they explored. The suite had beds for about twenty people, besides the master bedroom. Retainers had beautiful quarters, much smaller, but luxurious still. They even found a small kitchen and three more baths.

  Po was awestruck. Barcus just shook his head.

  They dressed.

  Po wore a simple dres
s in dark green, much like the ones she always wore. The single button at the nape of her neck was a black, glass-like, carved stone that looked like an artfully rendered rose flower.

  The slippers she wore were ingenious in their simplicity. The iris-like cinch at the top of her foot made for a perfect fit.

  Barcus was in fine black pants, boots and tunic. He added a new belt for his gun and Telis blade.

  They wandered out into the main suite and were called by the smell of bacon and onions. Following their noses led them to a spacious kitchen where Jimbo, Rand, Ulric, Grady, Ro, Teek and four other women sat around a large table, talking, all at once.

  Rand and Jimbo saw them enter and raised glasses to them in a toast. Ronan looked up and gave a nod, as he transferred a pan of diced bacon and onions to a simmering pot of spicy meat in sauce that looked like chili.

  He was cooking on a large, gas range. It was a modern convenience Barcus had not seen since he had landed on this planet.

  The two women, sitting on either side of Ulric, stood and dragged Ulric to his feet in a friendly, familiar manner. One of them reminded Barcus of Saay. He fixed his smile, to hide his anger and sadness at the memory of her death.

  Ronan had his apron removed by two other girls, even younger than the ones helping Ulric. Their dresses were of a satin that clung to their bodies.

  Barcus realized it was window dressing, making him look decadent and spoiled.

  “Ahhh, Barcus. We will be back in an hour. Ulric and I are going down to put an appearance in at tonight’s feast. Dinner will be ready by then.” He was dressed in very fine clothes, as was Ulric. “There is beer and wine, cider or whatever else you like. Ro, sweetheart, will you start the biscuits in about a half hour?”

  They were both swept out by the girls, as if they were pushing an ox cart that was stuck in the mud.

  Jimbo shook his head, as the talking began, again. Barcus sat next to him, and Po sat next to Barcus.

  “There is a feast?” Barcus asked.

  “Yes, apparently, there are over 100 aristocrats down there already. The news Ronan was back spread fast,” Jimbo said, sipping tea.

  Rand interjected, quietly, “There is a feast every night.”

  Teek was listening.

  “Yes. Every night.” She beamed, as if proud of the decadence. “And, every morning the halls are filled again with fresh cut flowers, and every fruit bowl is restocked.” Barcus remembered the single apple Ronan had taken. “The sheets are changed on over 300 beds. The formal hedges are trimmed, and the 1,000 acres are maintained.”

  Teek turned serious, now. They didn’t know why.

  “Over 100 people go to the night market, every night. They buy tons of food, and flowers, and cloth, and nails, and medicine, and hundreds of other goods to support the household.”

  “Do you want to know why?” Ro asked, from the stove, now wearing Ronan’s apron, as she stirred the simmering chili.

  She waited for Barcus to answer.

  “Please, tell me,” Barcus said. The room was now quiet.

  “Because he is a good man.” She paused, she seemed about to cry.

  Teek continued, “In this place, it is the only way to serve his people. They know the feasts they cook are not for the aristocrats who pick at it and complain. They are for them. All of this food, and fruit, feed the thousands of slaves that he owns. Food bought from farmers that are not slaves. They work hard for a good price.”

  Ro added, “Did you see the new wing being built? This place doesn’t need another room, much less a wing. But carpenters, stonecutters and masons need work.”

  Barcus understood. Po could tell from the look on his face.

  Po asked, “Why does he let people think he is vain? Some think he is the worse Keeper of them all.”

  They didn’t answer. But, Po finally understood. She saw how he lived in the East Isles. This was a façade, to help as many as he could, within the rules he was allowed.

  ***

  Ronan and Ulric returned just as the final tray of biscuits came out of the oven. They laughed at something Ulric said, making a voice that was not his own.

  They ate chili with cheese and fresh biscuits from beautiful, ceramic bowls. They must not have eaten much at the feast because both Ulric and Ronan had seconds of the chili.

  Jacob joined them late. Ronan, Teek, and Ro all tossed him a biscuit at the same time. Somehow, he caught them all, and juggled them as he walked to the pot of chili. While juggling the three with one hand, he ladled up a bowl for himself.

  He expertly faked tossing the full bowl into the mix, but just lifted it up and down in the circle to good effect.

  Smoothly, he sat, caught one biscuit in his mouth, placed one in the bowl and placed the last on his napkin as if it was nothing. A typical day.

  The ladies cheered; Jimbo, Barcus and Rand applauded.

  “Thanks for not throwing me that awful knife, again, Ronan. Its balance is horrible for juggling.”

  After Jacob was done eating, he and Ronan retired to his private study, to catch up on some things.

  “I will still be awake when you return. We’ll talk, then.”

  They didn’t get to speak with him again, until it had all gone wrong.

  ***

  The streets were crowded in this upscale section of Exeter. The crowd parted as they moved through. Worthington, Barcus, and Rand were a full head taller than most of the people and they intimidated people by more than just their size. Their clothes, apparently, were typically worn by elite trackers and bodyguards used by Ronan; few could afford them.

  Po might as well have been invisible, as she walked a half step behind Ulric, wearing a full black habit and veil.

  The Flask and Anvil was huge, for a tavern. There were already 300, maybe 400, people there. Ulric was taken to a booth a half level up from the main floor. It was like a small side alcove, like box seats, that looked down onto the main floor, opposite a stage where two men played string instruments. The crowd talked among themselves. There were a lot of women present, most in habits of modest colors, some with their heads uncovered and their long, braided hair showing.

  “The acoustics are fantastic in here,” Ulric said, as he, Grady and Po sat. Worthington and Rand took positions just on the inside of the booth alcove, on each side. The instruments the men on stage played sounded like guitars, but had more strings, a deeper tone, and a wider range.

  Barcus went to look for the man named Mason. Ronan had given a detailed description of the man.

  AI~Em spoke to Barcus via HUD, “I believe I have found him.”

  A HUD image opened and his face was there in a window. Barcus found him quickly, sitting at the bar with a mug before him, talking to a woman with a long, black braid and bare arms. She also had bracelets on her biceps and wrists, which was highly unusual for Exeter. Her dress had the single button at the nape of her neck, but it was made of far finer material that flattered her body instead of concealing it.

  She clung to Mason, even though he was an unremarkable man. He was bookish and soft-looking.

  Barcus approached as the musicians finished and the crowd began to applaud. He walked up behind the man.

  “My Lord, Mason,” Barcus said, from behind him. “Keeper Ronan sends his regards. My name is Barcus.”

  The woman spoke first. “Ronan surely knows how to grow them in the East Isles. Can we take this one home?”

  Her hand traced the muscles on Barcus's chest. He looked at her hand, and then up at her face.

  She took her hand away.

  “Ty, leave this one alone. He might eat you,” Mason said.

  “Why is he so angry?” she asked, looking closely into his eyes.

  “Ty. No,” Mason said, and she heeled like a dog, sitting back down.

  Barcus wondered why she wasn't completely covered like the rest of the women present. All the others were, basically, in burkas.

  “If you'd follow me, sir.” Barcus gestured with his arm. “I w
ill show you the way.” His gesture opened his cloak a bit and revealed the massive Raptor blade. The handle was wrapped in fine leather, but was still clear.

  Fear showed on the woman’s face when she saw it.

  Mason followed him through the increasing crowd to the next level up, where Ulric sat.

  “Barcus, we now have ten BUGs set to follow Mason back to the Citadel. We will be able to obtain his credentials the next time he logs into the system,” AI~Em said, in his head.

  Mason and Ty entered and sat inside Ulric's booth. Worthington and Rand stepped out, for privacy, before words were spoken.

  Barcus watched the meeting in two windows.

  “Greetings, Mason. My name is Ulric. I am a friend of Ronan's,” Ulric said. “He tells me there is a favor to be paid, or offered, or asked. I am not too clear which it is,” Ulric said, pouring wine.

  “I think you and I are just the conduits for a favor of this size,” Mason said.

  Applause began as the two musicians finished the tune with a flourish. They moved their chairs farther apart and, once again, took their places on stage.

  “Then, all accounts become even, tonight.” Mason stared down at the stage as the crowd became quiet.

  ***

  The men played a sad sounding tune, as three women stood in between them in full habits, cloaks, and hoods, but no veils.

  Rand touched Worthington's arm as he froze. “Do you hear that...?”

  When the three women raised their black flutes, they played a familiar tune. Barcus whispered, “Adagio in G Minor.”

  They looked at each other.

  The harmony of the flutes was heartbreaking in its beauty. The musical arrangement was perfect, better even than the original by Tomaso Albinoni.

  The crowd was silent when the woman in the center lowered her flute, and her hood, and stepped forward to sing. Her hair was bright red and in a thick braid.

  Her voice filled the room vocalizing. She used her voice like an instrument. No words. Just beautiful, heartbreaking sound.

  “What does this mean?” Jimbo whispered to Barcus. They all recognized the music was from Earth. He got no answer.