“You won’t find him.” Nagavi leaned over and switched the comunit off. “And you should be aware, comunits are monitored by several intelligence agencies, especially the emperor’s, who follow Rial’s actions and those of his guards closely. If you plan to keep on having access to a comunit, don’t go searching.”
“He’s my brother.” She scowled at Nagavi.
“I appreciate this is difficult—”
“Did you lose your family, and later discover your brother is alive? What would you do in my place? Yes, sir. No, sir. Is that all I’m allowed to say? Don’t I have any freedom at all?” She blew out a breath, her face reddening, and her eyes sparking in anger.
“Kia, we are your family, too. Rial will protect you, but don’t expect him to be kind. He wasn’t brought up with kindness. In fact, he spent his early years in a lab being prodded and tested. Few people realize his mother was a geneticist from Falaichte, you won’t have heard of it, but she was the lead scientist on a team that was developing a system of advanced nanobots to prevent defective genes being passed on. When the emperor learned about the project, he annexed the planet and took his mother prisoner. It didn’t take long for him to discover she was testing the nanobots on herself. After that, he erased the research laboratory and eliminated every scientist on her team, their associates and families, and half the planet to make sure nobody had any knowledge of what she’d discovered. A year later, Lord Rial was born, and his mother was dead.”
That explained his fear of implants. “Why are you telling me this? Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?”
“Don’t you have any empathy left for anyone else, lass, or is everything dead but self-interest and revenge?” He walked away.
She watched him leave, brooding over the look of disappointment he’d given her. What did he expect of her? She shook her head. Miserable and slaving away in a mine, or miserable and rich and powerful? She snorted. No, she had no sympathy for him.
Chapter Two: The Palace
Nagavi caught her eye as she entered the dining hall, his gaze skimming to the seat where she’d sat that morning. She didn’t roll her eyes at him, though she wanted to, or retort with a ‘yes, dad,’ which she also wanted to do, but took her place and locked down the dull simmering antagonism toward Rial that had settled in below her breastbone and wouldn’t depart. Apparently, as his consort, she was obliged to sit next to his seat whether he was present or not. The finals seemed more distant than yesterday, or was it that her life had undergone so many changes since she’d sworn to serve the crown prince? The others were having a snack before they prepared for the evening’s duty. She wasn’t hungry but managed to force a few mouthfuls down her throat.
Rial and the guards who’d accompanied him in the morning remained absent, and when Shaba approached, the knot in Kia’s stomach unwound a fraction.
“You’ve never met Emperor Teyrn, have you?” Shaba asked.
Kia shook her head.
“It’ll be fine. Rial won’t let anything happen. We’re all glad you’re here. He’s been more than tetchy lately, and after watching you fight him yesterday, we appreciate why.”
Were they making her accountable for his moods, too? She pushed aside her irritation and made an effort to be polite. After all, her fellow Chenjerai were entitled to their assumptions, and she didn’t want to alienate anyone on her first day. “Is there a supply store somewhere? I need some stuff.”
“The door after the study room. You’ll find most regular items you need in there. Anything special, ask Cheydii. Most of us have a nap before preparing for the evening, you’ll be surprised how exhausting, and boring, it can be standing watch on these occasions.”
Kia found the storeroom, and Shaba was correct. Everything she could need in the way of toiletries, towels, etc., was arranged neatly on shelves. After a quick search, she found what she wanted. Back in her quarters, she applied the depilatory cream to her scalp, waited a minute, washed it off and impassively observed the pale gold curls disappear down the drain in the bathroom sink. She examined her shiny, bald head. Let’s see if that will deter him, she thought. This was how she’d looked, albeit skinnier and dirtier, as a slave in the mines. She lay down, intending to take a ten-minute nap but fell fast asleep.
A loud knocking woke her, and she palmed the light switch and opened the door, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
“Wow,” Cheydii chortled. “If you’re thinking that’ll put Rial off you, I’ll tell you now, it won’t work. Anyway, these are for you.” She handed Kia a green uniform, heavier than the one she was wearing, and a black-visored helmet. “Your uniform. More will be delivered tomorrow. These are what we wear whenever we’re on duty. They look identical to the one you’re wearing, but the material is interwoven with the most advanced lightweight kevtimesh that offers protection from most hand weapons. Here’s your weapons belt.” She jingled a slender belt fitted with an array of weaponry. “Have a shower and dress, I’ll be back in ten minutes to show you how the helmet works.”
Fifteen minutes later—Kia wondered if she would ever get to spend as long as she wanted to in the shower—Cheydii settled the weapons belt around her waist.
“You’ve got a laser pulse gun on your right side, a short knife in the sheath on your left, and a longer one at your back. This time I’ve checked everything’s in order, but in future, you’ll check your own gear. Everything’s kept in the armory in the gym. Okay, turn around.” Cheydii lowered the black helmet over Kia’s head.
“These give us an advantage when we’re on public duties. In addition, they prevent anyone identifying us and keeps our families safe. As you’d expect, a hotbed of intrigue surrounds the emperor.”
There was a tiny click as the helmet connected with the new implant, and she was surprised her sight wasn’t affected by the black visor. A display sprang up above her right eye, and she studied the 360-degree panoramic view that allowed her to keep Cheydii’s outline in sight, even as the woman stood behind her, and made a rear attack easy to detect.
“What you do is keep your attention on the infoscreen, not the actual scene in front of you. You have an overall view of everyone’s movements and you’ll get an alert light on anyone moving in any manner that’s suspicious. When you’re walking, you switch between the screen and a visual of the location. Communication is activated the second the helmet connects to your device, and messages are relayed as they come in. No chitchat. Talk is restricted to orders and requests for instructions about the current mission. You spot anything amiss, you yell. Nobody else can hear the incoming instructions. Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it, but it can be confusing initially. At the banquet, as his consort, you’ll stand behind Rial’s chair to the right, Nagavi’s on his left. You stare straight ahead, and you’re able to see what everyone in the room is doing. Any questions?”
When Kia shook her head, Cheydii continued, “They're assembling outside. You stand next to Nagavi behind Rial. Okay? Sing out if you have questions.”
Kia nodded, following a miniature Cheydii on her infoscreen as the real woman moved toward the door.
The sleek gray flit was decorated with Rial’s insignia, the golden outlines of curved bird wings over red and orange flames, and he looked every bit the Heir as he climbed into the pilot seat. Instead of his olive green Chenjerai commander’s uniform, he wore fitted black pants and a matching jacket with a short white tunic underneath.
Seated in the row behind him, Kia concentrated on the helmet’s display to avoid examining the curve of his cheek, and the strong line of his jaw. He hadn’t acknowledged her, yet she could feel the weight of his intent pressing on her like a physical pressure. She focused her attention on her screen, observing the Chenjerai strapped into the rows behind her. With their faces concealed, they exuded an air of sinister menace. Even helmeted, she could spot Tamaiko and Ohiko chatting, and she’d bet they were discussing their new equipment. Jalux was at the end of a row, and from the slump of his shoulders, she
guessed something was upsetting him. He no longer seemed to be the sociable young man she’d known before the Finals, but she had too much else on her mind to worry about him.
The land below was dark, but the lights of Djem sparkled on the horizon. She remembered her exhilaration walking the streets of the city the night before. Okay, that had ended in a fiasco, nevertheless, the sight of the shimmering lights sent a shiver of excitement running through her.
Rial’s head turned in her direction, a smile on his lips. “Children are particularly attracted by anything that glitters,” he said in an undertone.
Equally quietly, she cursed him and mentally stuck a long thin spike into his ear.
His grin broadened.
If the city was the crowning glory of the empire, the palace was the crown jewel. Even from a distance, the curved white dome of the palace shone with a rainbow of lights, and as they flew over the grounds, the sight was even more magnificent. Kia espied the walkways filled with slow-moving streams of guests heading for the entrance.
Rial landed the flit in a private port to the rear of the palace complex where a squad of Teyrn’s private guards waited. Nagavi sent six of their Chenjerai to accompany Rial as he set off for the meeting with his father, four to position themselves and observe the banquet hall, himself, Kia, Shaba, and Jalux to supervise food preparation for Rial, and the remaining six to patrol the hallways and grand entrance as the guests entered.
As they progressed toward the center of the palace, the corridors widened, and the colors, the elaborate wall moldings, the paintings, hand painted and no doubt appropriated from wealthy aristocrats on annexed planets, became more opulent. People—servants, courtiers, guests, each dressed in increasingly ostentatious outlandish apparel—crowded the hallways.
Emankora was an isolated planet at the far end of a galaxy arm and not close to a wormhole. Nonetheless, due to its wealth of easily mined ores, it was part of the Intergalactic Free Trade Amalgamation and regularly hosted a steady stream of off-world traders.
Yet, Kia had never seen such a display of different races as strolled, ambled, and sauntered along these hallways. If she hadn’t been wedged between Nagavi and Jalux, with Shaba bringing up the rear, she would have stopped and stared. The second time she stumbled, Jalux trod on her heels and hissed, “Your infoscreen! Look at your screen.” All at once the overwhelming sensory stimuli reduced to a manageable level and she could keep her feet moving, her balance stable, and track the flows of traffic created by peoples’ movements. Where the trajectories indicated a collision course, flicking her gaze to the concourse showed friends and acquaintances greeting each other. She grinned at the advantage this gave, glad her face was hidden. She was a full-fledged member of the Heir to the throne’s Chenjerai and couldn’t be seen to walk around while on duty with a big smirk on her face.
Kia had decided it would take days to retrace her steps when Nagavi turned right and descended a set of stairs barely wide enough for the constant hustle of servants going up and down. Most wore plain uniforms and harried expressions but a few were dressed in more elaborate purple garments with gold trim on the collars and cuffs. The latter, judging by the contemptuous looks they gave everyone else, clearly thought they were superior,
The stairs led to the kitchen, where a blast of heat greeted Kia accompanied by a medley of sweet, sour and spicy aromas, none of which she could identify, while chefs, their assistants, and runners hollering instructions assaulted her ears. She wondered when they would eat—she wasn’t hungry but the smells were tickling her taste buds—but decided Cheydii’s instructions to keep questions to the assignment didn’t include asking about meal times.
“Busy,” Nagavi stated. “The Emperor Teyrn likes his food fresh and prepared by human hands. Nothing artificial.”
Joy of joys, Kia thought, a murderous tyrant who enjoys home-cooked pies.
Nagavi preceded them through the maze of cookers weighted with huge simmering steaming pots, working their way through the small army of people needed to prepare the evening’s banquet. He stopped at a section where several cooks waited by a bank of stoves with a sink in a nearby alcove. “They don’t start preparing Lord Rial’s food before we arrive.” He nodded at a thin bald man wearing a red tunic. “Chef Egosten, you may begin.”
The skinny cook bowed and barked orders at his team in a booming voice out of sync with his bony frame.
“The red tunic shows he’s a royal cook, and he’s the best,” Nagavi commented. “Shame we never get to eat his specials.”
Kia had never heard the stern commander sound regretful, and she smiled to herself. Good to find out he had at least one vulnerable spot. “What do you want us to do?” she asked.
“Jalux, in the scullery, Kia, outside the alcove. Shaba and I will take the other side of the stoves. Slip one of your knives up a sleeve, and keep your gun ready to use.”
With the preparation and cooking area cordoned off by the Chenjerai, Kia felt good. A simple task that occupied her mind and senses, leaving no time to brood. She withdrew the smaller knife from its sheath and slid it up her left sleeve as instructed and rested her hand loosely on the pulse gun’s grip. She had no idea what to expect but, here in the heart of the empire’s power, a creeping sly awareness dawned that her own continued survival depended on Rial staying very much alive.
Kia adopted a slow regular scanning of her infoscreen from left to right while keeping her head stationary. It was interesting to notice staff spot the Chenjerai, stop and stare and, thinking the guards could see no more than what was in front of them, continue their business at ease. She remained vigilant, not wanting to miss anything, and analyzed the patterns of movement. Certain routes in and out were taken by servers who transferred aperitifs to a row of elevators along the rear wall that delivered them to the banquet hall. Quick trips from sculleries, like the one behind her, to and from the nearest stoves showed up as little dashes. Most of the cooks didn’t move much, but made the most noise, as they remained more or less in the same spot, adding spices, stirring their preparations, and letting fly a constant barrage of orders. They appeared as stationary red dots.
Chef Egosten and his team moved with the smooth practice of experts and soon had half a dozen preparations on the go.
A raucous shouting started on the other side of the kitchen and bright orange and green flames erupted, blazing into the air.
Kia sharpened her gaze, suspicious and alert, noticing the same change in the other Chenjerai.
Nearby chefs screamed as assistants grabbed the sonic extinguishers, and everyone stopped and turned to watch.
It was then the movement caught Kia’s attention.
One of Egosten’s assistants reached out and sprinkled a little spice into a pan on the stove.
The way his eyes darted around, his pupils widening in shock as he realized Kia had seen him, told her this seasoning wasn’t in the recipe. “Poison,” she yelled, starting toward the perpetrator.
Shaba was closer and raced ahead of Kia as the man dodged through the workers gazing at the fire, knocking them aside in his dash for the exit.
The assailant reached the stairs with Shaba and Kia close behind; the three of them flew up the stairs. As they neared the top, Shaba lunged, grabbed his ankle, twisted it, and his head smacked the edge of the steps. Before he could recover, she’d jabbed the nerve point in his neck with savage energy, immobilizing him as Kia rushed up.
“Gotcha, you useless murdering ball of slime,” Shaba hissed.
Between them, they hauled the stunned captive down the stairs and handed him over to two of the emperor’s guards who dragged him away.
Activity in the kitchen had paused to watch the chase after she’d raised the alarm, but now that the action was over and the fire out, the noise and bustle resumed its former hectic level.
Kia reoccupied her post as the adrenaline rush faded.
“Well spotted,” Nagavi said. “The chefs will start fresh with new utensils and ingred
ients. They've removed the pot, and the food will be analyzed, and the emperor’s guard will question the prisoner. He may have had help as the fire could have been a distraction.”
She didn’t want to, but she preened under his praise. “Doing my job, boss.”
“Commander to you,” he retorted, but she could hear his amusement. She was no longer the naïve young woman who’d lived a protected life on Emankora and understood the questioning would involve torture whether the poisoner revealed his information immediately or not. That was on him, not on her. She was only responsible for her own actions. He’d chosen his path; hers lay waiting.
Chapter Three: The Emperor Teyrn
At last Rial’s food was ready, and the four Chenjerai escorted a closed heated trolley with Rial’s meal into an elevator. A few minutes smooth, noiseless ride and they emerged into the banquet hall where three of their team took charge of the trolley.
As Kia followed Nagavi along the wall of the enormous dining hall, she focused on her helmet’s screen, not out of an urge to perform her duty, but to avoid a fresh wave of sensory assaults that included overpowering perfumes that must cost a fortune and the discordant twang of a live musical performance.
The illustrious nobility competed to outdo each other as they sat at smooth crystal tables that glittered under heavy gold chandeliers weighted with a myriad of sparkling lights.
Kia thought if the despot wanted to get rid of anyone, he could simply seat them under a giant light fixture and arrange for it to drop on them. She felt the tiniest smidgin of sympathy for Rial. In Sestris there’d been many traders and townspeople willing to cozy up to the Chief Elector, but the majority of those she’d grown up among were honest people. You’d trust nothing these people said, she thought and felt guilty as one of her father’s favorite sayings jumped to mind. Wash your hands before you point your finger at someone else. The sense of backstabbing and jostling for position was rampant. She imagined the emperor encouraged such power plays; their scheming would provide amusement and absorb the attention of the most ambitious.
Awakening Defiance: (The Saoirse Saga Book 2) Page 2