He called Ryol using Cyonne’s commport and finally got through to his brother on the third try.
“So, little brother returns at last. You’re my hero, Rayn, you know that?” The voice was monotone and unemotional, yet the sarcasm would have been clear to a child. “I wondered how long it would be before you contacted me.”
“‘Your hero.’ And why is that, Rye? Don’t tell me you actually took note of my exploits on Exodus? I thought I was beneath your notice.”
“‘Exploits,’ as you say. Let’s see . . . what would those be? That you clumsily stumbled into the middle of a Synergy homicide investigation? That you knowingly revealed yourself, then allowed Syn officials to do whatever they wished with you? Or maybe you refer to the fact that you single-handedly caused the demise of one dens? Ooowww. But no. That’s not what amazes me. I’m impressed that you managed to stay alive for twenty-four years.”
“Really, Rye, sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”
Ryol gave an audible sigh. “What do you want, little brother? I’m busy.”
“I’m here to stay, Rye. I want the family intact.”
Ryol laughed, but the sound was as hard and dry as old bread. “Since when did you give a damn about the family? Never, that I can recall. Certainly not in the past two decades. You’re dragged back here at the end of a leash, your tail between your legs, and now, suddenly, you’re concerned with the family.”
His brother’s words failed to anger Rayn. He had expected no less. “I could’ve remained on Exodus had I wished it. I’m here because I want to be here. I can’t change the past. All I can do is address the future. Meet with me, Rye, face-to-face.”
“Very well. Meet me at these coordinates at the mid third hour. Don’t be late.”
Rayn arrived, as scheduled, at the office high in a narrow tower in the heart of the central dome. Ryol kept him waiting, but Rayn wasn’t surprised. It was a trick he’d used many times himself to exert control over an adversary. Finally, an assistant ushered Rayn into Ryol’s plush office. His brother sat at a large desk and neither stood to greet Rayn nor offered him any refreshment, though Rayn had been waiting more than two hours in the ante room.
He looked much the same as Rayn had remembered. His brother was a slender man, eighteen years his elder, with collar-length hair impeccably styled. Long strands of silver flowed back from his temples and blended with the obsidian waves. Dark brown eyes peered lazily from beneath hooded lids.
“As I said, I’m a busy man. What do you want of me?”
“You don’t make it easy, Ryol, do you? You still think of me as a young boy . . .”
“Yes, a young boy. Who sat and watched the rain while the rest of us met, studied, and attended to business. And you haven’t changed.”
“I’ve changed a great deal, only you refuse to acknowledge the fact. Why? What are you afraid of?”
His brother laughed. “If I’m afraid of anything, it’s that you’ll taint this family again. You’re weak, Rayn. You’re passive. You run when things get too hot. This place needs strong men, Rayn. Fighters.”
“To fight for what, Rye? Change? Just what have the fighters like you accomplished in the past twenty years? From what I’ve seen in just two days, the classes have split, the violence is worse than it ever was, and the Council shifts their position with each new moon.”
“How dare you criticize when you haven’t even been here? You see only with the eyes of an idealist, little brother. Yes, there are problems, but there are also accomplishments. The city flourishes. There’s peace and order and work for all who want it. Do you think all that happens on its own? The natural tendency of life is chaos, Rayn, not order. Order takes work from men like me. Not men who run away.”
“I disagree. It takes many bricks to build a house, and they’re all important.”
“That’s your problem, Rayn. All you want to be is a brick. Men like me are the architects.”
“I don’t hold anything against your aspirations, Rye. All I’m saying is that there’s a place in the world for all gifts, not just those you and those like you possess. Widen your viewpoint a little, brother. It might be helpful to an architect.”
“Prove yourself to me then, Rayn. Show me what you’re worth.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you, or anyone. But watch me if you care to. You might be surprised.”
“I’m not easily surprised.”
Rayn grinned. “I’ll see myself out.”
Several hours later he sat alone in the Z’andarc home, motionless as a memorial to the dead. Cyonne entered quietly, and he knew before she spoke that she knew his mood.
“I’m sorry, Rayn,” she whispered.
He snorted softly, making no sound.
“Did you even see Ryol?”
“I saw him. It went no worse than I expected. He still thinks of me as a boy, all weakness and passivity, with no strength or skill. He can’t get over my role in Flyr’s death or the fact that I left B’harata.”
She sat down next to him and smoothed a long strand of hair from his face. “Rayn, you were never weak, even as a boy. Your mother knew that, and I knew it, though I was no bigger than a rain bug.”
He couldn’t help a small smile at her words.
“Rayn, listen to me. Your brother is strong, and he has a great deal of influence with the Council. Ryol can be stubborn, as a certain brother of his can be, but he’s not stupid. He’ll come around.”
Rayn leaned back and looked at Cyonne’s eyes, bright with feeling he knew was for him. “You’re a treasure, Cee. I suppose you know that.”
“Sage directs similar thoughts my way now and again. I hope your Dina comes quickly, Raynga. I think you need her very much.”
He closed his eyes and nodded, thinking about his lightning storm. Yes, I need her. Her strength, her clarity, her ideals—they were like a beacon to him, lighting his path.
“Go to the Glacian community tomorrow. Talk with the people there. Start making plans. You’ll feel better.”
“I’ll do that. Sage is a lucky man, Cee.”
She ruffled his hair. “So I keep telling him. Now, no more brooding. There are things to be done around here. Sage’ll be home soon.”
Rayn stood up, took Cyonne in his arms, and kissed her forehead. “Yes, boss. Just tell me what needs to be done.”
RAYN’S PLAN TO visit the Glacian community was again suspended. As a condition of his updated citizenship status, he’d been required to provide B’haratan officials with a temporary address and comm code within two days of his arrival in Sha’haran. Early the next morning, as a vigorous rain tap-danced on the roof of the dome high above him, Rayn received a summons to appear before the Sundrion.
Rayn disconnected the call as Cyonne watched him. He felt her mind touch him, ever so gently, and knew she easily picked up the sourness of his mood.
“Rayn, what did they want? It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“I’m to appear before Sundrion members this afternoon. They want to talk to me about Exodus.”
She smiled. “I told you your exploits wouldn’t go unnoticed. The diplomats will be fighting over you.”
“And I told you I’m not interested.”
“But you can’t ignore a summons.”
He sighed. “No, I can’t ignore a summons. For twenty-four years I lived without summonses or strictures. Such things are hard to swallow when the palate is unused to their flavors.”
She stepped up to him and put a hand on either side of his face. “Oh, Rayn, you sound like Sage. Would you eliminate the strictures? Without them, we’d have anarchy.”
“And you sound like Rye. If teachings like the m’riri hadn’t been allowed to die out, we’d have no need for the strictures.”
She dropped her hands. “But they did di
e out. We have to deal with the present and future, not the past. Oh, Raynga, let’s not argue. I’ve been through all this with Sage so many times already.”
“I’m not arguing. I know I’ll have to adjust if I’m to stay here. Freedom is a hard garment to shed, that’s all. I’ll try to be an obedient servant of the state,” he whispered against her hair, giving his cousin a quick hug.
Several hours later, Cyonne dropped Rayn off at the Sundrion headquarters, near the port. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Good luck, Raynga’cha. I’ll wait for you here.
He didn’t answer, knowing she felt his affection for her.
Rayn entered the slender tower that rose to a pyramidal point, almost resembling an ancient obelisk, and waited patiently while his identification was verified via his arm ring. Moments later, his appointment with the Councilor was confirmed, and he was escorted to a level high in the structure, where he waited, again patiently, in a narrow ante room. He eased himself into the small chair he was shown to and raised his eyes, as he imagined all visitors to this room did, to the imposing metal sculpture which decorated the wall above the large double doors leading to the inner chamber.
The sculpture was a sun disk, the symbol of the Sundrion, the Interplanetary Diplomatic Corp on B’harata. The sun disk showed a large golden orb set between long outspread wings, and small recessed lights in the ceiling illuminated the face of the sun, touching sparks of gold and white off the smooth convex surface. As Rayn stared at the disk, it seemed to come alive. The gilded eye winked at him, beckoning him, yet at the same time mocking him.
Rayn idly wondered why this should be so, and his thoughts drifted to Exodus and Dina and the dream he’d had two nights past, when he’d called to her in the desert and she could not come to him. The feeling of unease he’d felt upon awakening from the dream returned, and as much as he tried to brush it aside, the feeling of dread crept back like a predator reluctant to give up its prey.
At last the doors swung inward, and a man motioned for Rayn to enter. As he passed beneath the sun god, Rayn shuddered, and the dread clawed at him one last time before an exertion of control sent the beast slinking away once more into the darkness. The room was plush, decorated in burgundy, deep blue, and gold, and two men stood to greet him. By their appearance both seemed to be quite a bit older than himself, but Rayn guessed that the man with the flaxen hair and blue eyes was a Glacian and was probably in truth younger than he was.
The B’haratan, a monolith of a man, spoke first. He was massive in girth, and the corded neck and veined forearms told Rayn that most of it was muscle rather than fat. The man was draped all in black, with reserved gold accents.
“Citizen D’Anthara, come in. I am High Counselor Denga’dyn of the Sundrion, and this is our own Ambassador Salhjon of Glacia.”
Salhjon was just as huge as the councilor was. Diplomats obviously ate well and often. The two men bowed slightly at the waist. Denga’dyn made the customary B’haratan supine gesture of welcome, and the Glacian held one hand over his heart in the greeting of his own homeland. With intimate friends or relatives such as Cyonne and Sage, the gestures had a genuine meaning. With officials such as these, it was a meaningless formality, but Rayn returned the greeting as custom and good manners dictated.
They all made themselves comfortable at a large round table, and Denga’dyn continued. “You’ve been away from B’harata for quite a few years, young man. We realize that during that time you’ve been ignorant of the forces at work, not only here, but elsewhere in the galaxy. Our goal is simple. We wish to gain equality for all men, and we fight to tear down the fences that the Synergy has seen fit to erect around their worlds. We strive to abolish the bans, so that all men—not just the dens—but all who are currently labeled as ‘dark outworlders,’ have the freedom to travel and work where they will.
“Unfortunately, until we succeed in eradicating the bans, we must abide by them. Most men who go dark-worlding hurt our cause by becoming criminals or mercenaries. Men such as these are punished quite severely when they’re caught and deported back here. The original charges against you were serious as well, but when we learned of the circumstances on Exodus under which you were apprehended, we palliated the charges. Indeed, when we viewed your deposition, and those of Agent Marlijn of the IIB, Dr. Gheslo, and Minister Chandhel of Exodus, we were quite impressed.”
Rayn didn’t know what to say. The words were kind, but he knew that the Sundrion hadn’t brought him here just to thank him for his good works. They wanted something from him, and he could almost hear the sound of a trap closing.
“Further, we learned that Agent Marlijn is now on her way here to, I assume, stay with you. Have you given any thought to what the two of you will do here once she arrives?”
“Not in detail, Councilor. I’ve only been here two days. I was planning on visiting the Glacian community later today to see what possibilities exist there.”
“Just so. Perhaps, young man, you would give thought to aiding us in our endeavors.”
So Cyonne was right. “Doing what, Councilor?” He voiced the question, but Rayn already had a good notion of the answer.
“Your deposition shows you to be an articulate young man. It also shows your Miss Marlijn not only to be well spoken, but very . . . appealing to the eyes as well. Ambassador Salhjon believes that the two of you could achieve a great deal on Glacia.”
“Councilor, I have no desire to spend my remaining years in endless travel.”
The Councilor’s mouth puckered, as though the words he didn’t want to hear were a disagreeable taste in his mouth. He paused before he continued, but never took his dark eyes off Rayn’s. “Actual space travel would be negligible. Once on Glacia, your time would be spent there.”
“In travel.”
“Think about it, D’anthara. And when Miss Marlijn arrives, discuss it with her. It’s a handsome offer we present to you. Alternatives, I dare say, would not be quite so . . . attractive, I’m sure.” Denga’dyn and Salhjon rose to their feet in unison.
Rayn could hardly miss the veiled threat. He stood as well. “I will think about it, Councilor, believe me.”
“Good. We’ll speak again.”
They ushered him from the room, and Rayn could almost feel the rays from the leering sun disk burning his back on his way through the ante room.
When he entered Cyonne’s air car, she took his hand and squeezed it.
He looked at her, and the edges of his mouth lifted a little. “I haven’t been much company for you since I arrived, have I?”
“I know it’s hard for you. Sage had a difficult time adjusting, too, after he was deported. It was a very rough time for us.”
“Dina. I hadn’t thought about how my adjusting to being back home would affect her. I hope she can handle it. And me.”
“She will, if she’s your true bond-mate.”
Rayn sighed and ran his hands through his hair, an old habit. He knew Cyonne was bursting with questions, but she waited until they arrived at the Z’andarc home and had a chilled glass of mint tea in front of him before she spoke again.
“Rayn, what about the Sundrion? What did they say to you?”
“Almost exactly what you predicted they would. They want Dina and me to help them on Glacia in their efforts to get the ‘dark outworlder’ bans removed.”
“And what was it about their presentation that upset you so?”
“They don’t plan on taking no for an answer. I’m used to giving orders, not taking them.”
“You didn’t tell them no, did you?”
“I said I’d think about it. Cee, I have nothing against them or their politics. In fact, I agree with the abolishment of the bans. It’s just the way they ‘offered’ me the position. They intimated that I had no criminal charges pending upon my arrival here solely due to their intervention. I
also got the distinct impression that if I don’t agree to do as they want, they’ll see to it that either charges are brought, or that my freedom is otherwise curtailed.”
“They’re powerful men, Rayn, and very influential. I know you’re not used to being told what to do, but don’t antagonize them. They’d make very dangerous enemies.”
He shook his head and snorted. “It seems I make enemies wherever I go, in spite of all my good intentions to the contrary.”
“Think over their offer, and discuss it with Dina when she arrives. It’ll be hard for her here, and you have no love for this place. Isn’t the only reason she’s coming here is that it’s the only way she can be with you? If you join the Sundrion, you’ll have access to worlds that are denied to you now. And you’ll be together. Very few ever have that opportunity.”
“I’d be on Glacia legally, but on the end of a very short leash. I don’t relish that, regardless of where it is.”
She sighed. “Did anybody ever tell you how stubborn you are?”
“Many times. In fact, you sound an awful lot like Dina.”
“Ha! I’ll take that as a compliment. I hope she gets here soon, because I can see that you need her good sense badly. You’re sadly lacking in that area, Raynga’cha.”
“You’re right. I need her.” I need her. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let his mind drift back in time. The colors, sounds, and textures of his past were as vivid as when he’d lived it. Ryol was right. Rayn had craved escape from B’harata. As a young boy, he’d dreamed of escaping into the reflections that waved their lures from the rain puddles on the roads. As a young man, the winks from the stars, signposts for all the forbidden worlds, had beckoned to him.
So he had left. Not for the lucre his abilities could glean for him, not even for the drug of power through control that drove many of his countrymen. But for peace.
Glacia, with its heavy population, advanced technology, and hatred of the dens, was like a mine field to Rayn, and smaller fringe colonies such as Ror, with its callous inhabitants, had all but narcotized his soul. Even Cyg Estia had been but a wilderness of voices, pervasive, promising, and persuading, but as hollow as the windpipes that gave them birth. Words, all words . . .
Crimson Rain Page 7