Valhai (The Ammonite Galaxy)

by Gillian Andrews

  “Thank Almagest I have a bodywrap on,” he complained, but with a smile. “You lot shouldn’t be let out.”

  Cimma was watching with a smile, the first her daughter had seen since her father’s death. “The lifts are now working on a priority basis, so the next enzyme doses have been sent to the ground floors of the exo skyrises.”

  That sobered everybody up. “So,” said Vion, “we had better get moving then. There is still a lot of work to do, and we seem to be the only people who can go bare planet.”

  It took them all that day and the next to ferry the various doses of enzyme to the lake. It was easier now, because Arcan could take care of the distribution himself, making sure that the enzyme was delivered to where it was most needed. Despite that, and the food which was now available for them, they still ended each day exhausted.

  Finally all the enzyme that could be made had been deployed. They made their weary way back to the hospital area, showered with hot water – much to Diva’s delight, had something to eat, and then fell into a deep sleep on one of the hospital’s patient beds.

  Cimma went round and covered each of them with a blanket. Then she went back to her chair in the corridor. She positioned it half way between the lift and the exterior terrace. She wasn’t going to be surprised from either direction. She settled herself down for a night’s vigilance. She was happy. She had a mission too.

  Chapter 33

  GRACE SLIPPED AWAY from the others as soon as she could, and took the orthotube over to the 256th skyrise. She needed to find the Xianthan dagger her mother had grown so attached to. And there was something else she felt she ought to do.

  It was a simple matter to stop the ortholift on the 21st floor. Her mother’s dagger was lying still in the corridor, where it had been dropped the night she nearly lost her life. Grace remembered where she had last seen her own catana, and went to fetch it. She intended to keep her promise to Cimma. In the future she would carry a weapon at all times, and she would practice daily with it. She certainly didn’t think the Sellites would leave them alone for long, even if they were pretending to ignore their presence since their part in Arcan’s recovery. Something told her that Mandalon would at this very moment be considering all his options, would be gathering his cohorts to find a solution favourable to the Sellites She tied the carry belt around her waist and slipped the scimitar-like weapon into place. The dagger fitted in behind it.

  She looked around at the 21st floor. It seemed years ago since they had slept here, although in fact it was only a week or so ago. Such a lot had happened. She smiled to herself. And still was happening. There was to be a big meeting the following month, now that Arcan had almost recovered. Things had to be decided. Who the planet belonged to, who could live here. The tridi was buzzing with opinions for all tastes. Some Sells wanted to leave immediately, lest their beliefs be corrupted by foreign influence. Some wanted to stay, especially those with interests in the exosciences. For them this was a wonderful opportunity for study: even if nobody knew who the planet belonged to. Other Sellites were scared of Arcan; still others were making veiled threats against him.

  Grace just wanted to know where she was going to live. She was tired, but reasonably happy. Her mother and her friends were alive: more than she had any right to expect. She thought that if she were offered the opportunity she would stay on Valhai. There was nowhere else she wanted to be. She would stay here with Arcan, if he would let her. She hoped so.

  She went silently up to the deserted 48th floor, and paid a visit of courtesy to her father’s sarcophagus. She stood for a moment in front of it, head bowed. What would he have thought of everything? He would have hated losing the skyrise, that much she knew. So he would probably have blamed Grace for everything. After all, if she hadn’t taken it upon herself to go bare planet none of this would have happened. Would it? She gave a deep sigh. She went quickly around the floor, putting the few personal items she came across, either her own or Cimma’s, into a back pack. Then she took a deep breath, and went back to the lift, pressing the button for the 49th floor.

  “Come to gloat?” asked Amanita nastily as soon as she saw who it was. “Happy, are you?”

  Grace shook her head. “I came to apologize, to tell you how sorry I am.”

  “Sorry? Sorry? Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe what we are going through.” She fixed Grace with a dark stare. “You have ruined our lives! We are being deported tomorrow as soon as the space elevator resumes service.”

  “I know. That is why I had to see you. To explain that I never meant . . .”

  “ . . . to bring utter ruin to your house?”

  “No. It just happened. One thing led to another, and there wasn’t really any other way to do things . . . ” Grace broke off.

  “If you had never gone bare planet down to the lake, disobeying house regulations. that . . . that . . . damned . . . thing would never have woken up!”

  “Maybe. But Diva and Six would have died.”

  “Those two donor apprentices? Good riddance, I say!”

  Grace recoiled. “You don’t mean that, Amanita,” she said gently.

  Her sister-in-law turned on her. “Shame on you,” she snarled. “You put two foreigners above your own flesh and blood!”

  “But . . . but you can’t possibly have wanted them dead . . .?” asked Grace, tears springing to her eyes.

  “What is it to me if a couple of donor apprentices are dead or alive? Do you think Sell could have survived so long without a couple of deaths? How naïve of you!” Amanita’s face was distorted with hate.

  “You have lost the wealth of fifty generations of your family for the sake of two Sacrans!”

  “No.” Grace thought she could see a way to put at least one thing right. “If you need money I can give you some.”

  “How?” Amanita narrowed her eyes. “What money have you got?”

  “My friends rescued some of the artifacts,” Grace confessed.

  “How big of you!” This time the venom in Amanita’s voice was such that it forced Grace to take two steps back. “How generous!” She advanced on Grace and pressed her face close to her sister-in-law’s. “You are going to give your brother what is rightfully his? I don’t think so!” she spat. “If you have any family artifacts you have stolen them, because they all belong to Xenon.” Amanita’s chest heaved. “And you needn’t think you can keep any for yourself, because you have no right to anything! The head of the house is still Xenon, even if there is no house anymore!” She paused to take in a huge breath, and then went on with a shudder. “May Almagest rot your soul if you keep one single artifact belonging to the 256th house! May your every day be a living hell, like mine!”

  Grace found her retreat blocked by the lift, and pressed the call button. “You can have it all,” she said hastily. “I won’t keep a thing. I promise.” She put both hands up to ward off the malediction.

  “Never ever come near me or any of my family again,” Amanita hissed as Grace got into the lift. “I will curse your name every day I live, every night of my life! You will never prosper.”

  Thankfully the lift doors closed at that point. Grace leant back against the walls of the ortholift, and then slid down to the floor, tears running freely down her cheeks. She was rigid with shock at the words Amanita had used. Her mind was a complete blank. She huddled in a ball on the lift floor and time stood still for her.

  “Grace?” the word had no effect at first on the girl curled up in the lift. “Grace? What is it?”

  “Arcan?” She realized that a bubble had surrounded her, and that she could hear Arcan’s voice again. “Oh, Arcan. I have ruined my family.”

  “They have ruined themselves,” he said. “Why are you upset? It is not logical.”

  “Amanita said terrible things to me. She will never forgive me.”

  “And this forgiveness is something you want?”

  “Yes, of course.” Then Grace thought about it. “. . . No, I suppose not. She wishes Diva
and Six were dead.”

  “Well then.” The bubble shimmered. “We can forget her, can we not?”

  Grace giggled wetly. “She said I put my friends before my family.”

  “Quite right too. Your family are murderers, if you will excuse me for saying so. Not very nice people.”

  “They were just doing . . .”

  “. . . their job. I have heard that one before. Why did you go to her house? What did you expect to hear?”

  Grace shrugged. “I just wanted to say I was sorry for everything.”

  “But you aren’t.”

  “Well, no, I suppose not, if you put it like that.”

  “Then it was very silly of you to go, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Grace got to her feet and glared at the bubble. “Happy now?”

  A ripple ran through the bubble. “Yes. You make me feel very glad not to be such an inferior species. Your behavior is not coherent.”

  “Well excuse me!”

  “I already have.” The bubble ignored Grace’s gasp of indignation and disappeared, leaving her to make her own, slower way back to the hospital floor of the 367th skyrise.

  Vion faced his father across the solid temaris wood desk, which was so big that it stretched over nearly half of the room. He had wanted to get things clear with his parent before the meeting the following day.

  “I will stay here,” he told the older man.

  “If you are asked,” said Vion 48 with deceptive mildness.

  Vion inclined his head. “If, as you say, I am asked. What are you planning to do, as head of house?”

  His father gave a heavy sigh. “It is going to be a very difficult decision to take. My understanding is that nothing can be decided until there has been a committee to review the contract Sell has with the Cian planets for the rental of Valhai. Until that point in time the agreement will be deemed to stand.” He held up his hand to stop his son from interrupting him hotly. “But, it is also true that Sell can only sustain Sellite life for as long as your friend, Arcan, wishes. We are not autonomous here.” He held up his hand again, and quelled Vion with a look. “I myself am uncomfortable about this situation, and I think my duty may be to remove my family to a safer climate. I am considering Coriolis.”

  “Coriolis!” Vion’s mouth dropped open.

  “Exactly.” His father smiled. “Perfect place to get a nice solid footing in before they develop too much. And no flares from their sun. Very good. Plenty of prospective patients for our area of expertise.”

  “I shall stay here.” Vion was determined.

  His father smiled. “You will stay here,” he agreed. Then leant forward and the smile was replaced by a fearsome scowl. “. . . provided your doing so does not cause your house any problems. Be very clear on that, Vion. I will kill you before I let you ruin the family.”

  His son went white. “That is a very drastic statement, Father.”

  “It is not one I make lightly. I will not allow this . . . this. . . . alien thing to be the end of our house and fifty generations of artifacts. I will not let the Sell government get their filthy hands on the riches of my ancestors. I will not be a second Xenon. You would be well advised to remember these words, Son. You may stay, providing it is approved by the voting chamber. If not, then you will accompany us to Coriolis. And that . . .” said the white-haired man. “. . . is my final word. You may go, Vion.”

  His son turned and made his way back to the hospital floor. His father had given him much to think about, not least that he was a twenty-five year old qualified doctor and his father could still make him feel about the same height as a Xianthan roach. It was a gift the old man had.

  “Will you go back to Coriolis?” Six asked Diva.

  She shook her head. “Why would I go back?”

  “Thought you might want to,” he said. “You could always join your mother and her . . . guards . . . on Mount Whatever.”

  “Palestron,” Diva said automatically.

  “So what will you do?”

  Diva put her head to one side, and regarded him. “Stay here,” she said. “If Arcan lets me. You?”

  Six nodded. “I have to go back to Kwaide to find Eight,” he explained. “But I can only do that with Arcan’s help. In any case there isn’t much use springing her from the birth shelter if I haven’t anywhere to bring her. I hope Arcan will invite both of us to stay.”

  “And the Sellites?”

  “Let them go,” he said loftily. “They are no match for Arcan.”

  “No.”

  “You sound doubtful about that?”

  She pulled a face. “I wouldn’t trust that Mandalon as far as I can throw him,” she said. “I hope Arcan knows what he is dealing with.”

  “Of course he does. His brain alone is bigger than fifty Sellites!”

  “That didn’t help him on Coriolis,” she pointed out.

  “Nah!” Six was sure. “He is unbeatable. Anyway,” he added. “He has us to watch his back. No worries.”

  She grinned. “If he has me to watch his back, then you are surplus to requirements, no-name!”

  “We have a saying on Kwaide,” he said. “. . . ‘When facing a backswamper, it is better not to be alone’.”

  “And what does that mean, Kwaidian?”

  He smiled. “It means, Divina Senate Magmus of Coriolis, that I – no-name Six from Kwaide – will be watching your back!” He thought for a moment. “And any attackers had better take pretty good care because I won’t be taking prisoners!”

  The End

  Dedication:

  This book is dedicated to Lisi, with thanks.

  Thank you:

  Thank you for choosing Valhai.I hope you have enjoyed reading it. The second book in the Ammonite Galaxy series is called Kwaide.

  You can find more information about the Valhai universe at:

  www.valhai.com and

  www.gillianandrews.com

  Copyright:

  The right of Gillian Andrews to be identified as the Author of the work has been assserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except as permitted by the copyright, designs and patents act 1988. Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be emailed to www.valhai.com

  Revised version 3.

  ISBN: 978-84-614-2939-4 (print version)

  ISBN: 978-84-614-2938-7(mobi version)

  Depósito Legal: PM.1527-2010

  Copyright Autor y Editor © Gillian Andrews 2010.