The Crystal Eye

by Deborah Chester

  Elrabin backed his ears angrily. “Quit talking like that.”

  “You really want to save them?”

  “No,” Elrabin said, deciding to be honest. “But I have to. I gave Ampris my word.”

  “What does word mean to a Kelth?”

  Elrabin bared his teeth, deciding that sometimes he didn’t like this Reject very much. “Hey, don’t take it out on me.”

  He pulled free of Harthril’s grip and smoothed out the wrinkles in his dirty coat. “You coming?” he asked.

  Harthril flicked out his tongue, but when Elrabin trotted toward the slum, Harthril followed.

  The slums were bad, all right. It took Elrabin one glance, and one whiff, to know that this part of town was a lot worse than the stinkhole where he’d grown up. He took in the front-edge businesses, gambling dens, dust drops, and brothels, and his instincts went on alert. He quickened his pace.

  In minutes, he heard the sound of commotion—angry shouts and yells of pain. He jabbed Harthril in the ribs. “That’s Nashmarl’s voice. Come on!”

  Together they ran down one of the narrow, twisting streets and came upon the cubs, surrounded by Rejects who were stoning them and shouting insults.

  Elrabin didn’t have to count heads to see how seriously he and Harthril were outnumbered. But if Elrabin had never learned how to fight well during his time as a servant for gladiators, at least he had learned how to fight dirty.

  Baring his teeth, he rushed forward, fast and furious, giving no warning, and bowled over one of the Rejects from behind. Grabbing the sack of rocks from the startled Reject’s hand, Elrabin rolled and came up lightly on his feet. Already he was reaching into the sack, and as Harthril clubbed another Reject down from behind with his walking staff, Elrabin started pelting the Rejects with stones.

  Startled, they turned and ran in all directions, disappearing quicker than he’d have thought possible.

  Elrabin glared around, expecting them to come back with reinforcements, and dropped his sack of stones on the head of the Reject he’d knocked down. With a moan, the Reject slumped in the mud and did not move.

  Harthril was already bending over the cubs, who were lying on the ground curled around each other.

  Elrabin hurried over to them and saw that both were still conscious. Foloth was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. Nashmarl was whimpering and clutching his stomach.

  The cubs stared at him and Harthril as though they couldn’t believe their eyes.

  “How did you get here?” Foloth whispered.

  Elrabin’s ears were working back and forth, straining to listen in all directions. “Never mind,” he said gruffly. The cubs were alive; he’d worry about details later. “Get up, both of you. Time to clear out of this place before trouble comes back.”

  Harthril grabbed Nashmarl under his arms and set him on his feet. Elrabin tugged Foloth upright.

  “Quick now, and no talking,” he said.

  Elrabin listened, heard someone coming, and took off in the opposite direction. The fact that it happened to be deeper into the slum instead of out of it made Harthril hiss a warning.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Elrabin said, shooting him a glance. “Trust me on this one. This happens to be my area of expertise.”

  With that boast, he led them on a winding progress through the slum, directing them with a confidence that was mostly for show. All the time he continued to hear sounds of pursuit. His shoulders stayed tensed for an attack that didn’t come.

  Several minutes later, they reached the banks of the river. Elrabin stared at the stinking mud, with its mounds of dead fish. Garbage was being dumped in the riverbed, and trash lay scattered in all directions. The water itself was seriously polluted. Elrabin stopped short and started to revise his plan until he glanced over his shoulder and saw a gang of angry Rejects behind them, cutting off the way back.

  “Now what will you do?” Harthril asked him in disgust.

  Elrabin bared his teeth. “Just keep your tongue in your mouth, and you’ll see. Come on!”

  “I can’t. It hurts too much,” Nashmarl whimpered, but Harthril shoved him along when Elrabin started down the bank.

  Foloth followed on Elrabin’s heels in silence. He was still bleeding, but his gash didn’t look too bad. Elrabin wasn’t going to take the time to wrap him up now.

  They squelched across the mud, which was slick and soft beneath scrim puddles of water and foam. Where the city wall curved to fit the bend of the river, the water grew deeper until it came up to Elrabin’s knees. He splashed along steadily, keeping his gaze on the base of the wall.

  “Hey!”

  Harthril’s warning came just as a stun bullet plopped into the water only a few centimeters away from Elrabin. Yelling, he jumped sideways and ran for the base of the wall. No more bullets came at him, yet he didn’t stop until he was huddled a hand’s breadth away from the stone. That close, he could feel the whining friction of the security field. He panted and swiveled back his ears as the others joined him. Tilting his head, he tried to look up at the top of the wall where the patroller who’d shot at him was standing, but couldn’t see him at this angle. That was fine with Elrabin. He figured the patroller could no longer see him either.

  Viis laughter rolled down to him. Snarling, Elrabin made the rudest gesture he knew.

  Foloth was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Do they shoot at everyone here?”

  “Sure,” Elrabin said. “It’s what they do for fun.”

  Nashmarl looked up. He was still shaking. “They nearly killed us.”

  “Who?” Harthril asked without sympathy. “Patrollers or Rejects?”

  The cubs exchanged glances. “You saw the patrollers too?” Nashmarl asked, sounding humiliated. Misery welled up in his green eyes.

  Foloth, however, looked angry. “You watched, and you didn’t help us?”

  Nashmarl heaved for air. “They said . . . they called us—”

  “I heard what they called you,” Elrabin said gently. He hugged the cub, and Nashmarl clung to him, sobbing.

  Foloth, however, was made of sterner stuff. Wiping blood from his face, he went on glaring at Elrabin. “Why didn’t you help us immediately? If you saw that we were in trouble with the patrollers, why did you—”

  “What?” Elrabin broke in, still holding Nashmarl. “We supposed to take on patrollers and get ourselves shot along with you?”

  “Mother made us your responsibility,” Foloth said sternly. “You’re supposed to take care of us—”

  “Hey, cub,” Elrabin said sharply, tired of this ingratitude. “You were supposed to stay in the camp where she left you.”

  “If you hadn’t been so mean to us, we wouldn’t have run away,” Foloth said. “It’s all your fault we got into this, Elrabin. You made us leave.”

  “Made you?” Elrabin glared at him. “Did I make you steal Harthril’s food?”

  “You are thief,” Harthril said harshly.

  Nashmarl stopped crying, but his face was flushed a deep red beneath his pale fur. Foloth glared at Elrabin and Harthril defiantly. “What about you, hoarding it like that?” he demanded of the Reject. “You’re supposed to share what you have with the camp. That’s the rule.”

  “No explain myself to you,” Harthril said. His rill had stiffened and was beginning to turn pink at the edges.

  “It’s the rule, isn’t it, Elrabin?” Foloth insisted.

  Elrabin knew the brat was trying to deflect the heat off himself and onto the Reject, but he’d decided that nobody was going to get away with anything around here. Not this time.

  “It’s the rule,” Elrabin agreed.

  Harthril flicked out his tongue. “Food for emergency, when all hunting useless,” he said. “Saved for camp, but you stole it. Now camp has nothing if trouble comes.”

  “Why didn’t you say something about it before?”

  “People have more courage, if think they must,” Harthril said. “If know about rations, they cry for them too fast.”


  Elrabin met the Reject’s stony eyes and didn’t relent. “You could have given some to Ampris,” he said.

  Harthril flicked out his tongue, and didn’t reply.

  When Elrabin went on glaring at him, the Reject lowered his blue eyes and shrugged with his crippled shoulder. “I made offer,” he said. “She refused. She said to save it for Robuhl and Tantha’s cubs. They weakest ones in camp.”

  Elrabin felt ashamed of himself for his suspicions. Harthril might be a Viis, but he was one of them. “Good enough,” Elrabin said.

  Foloth shrugged. “Easy enough to say now—”

  Harthril slapped the cub, who howled and backed into the security field. The sizzle of burning cloth filled the air, and Foloth jumped away from it, twisting and trying to slap at his smoking cloak. “I’m on fire!” he shouted.

  “Then go jump in the river,” Elrabin said without sympathy.

  Swearing, Foloth ran toward the water.

  Nashmarl tried to follow him, but Elrabin kept a restraining hand on the younger cub’s shoulder.

  “The patroller will shoot at him if he goes into the water,” Nashmarl whispered.

  “Probably,” Elrabin agreed.

  A stun bullet plopped into the water right in front of Foloth. He stopped in his tracks, looking up at the top of the wall, and scuttled back to the others. “You burned me on purpose,” he said, glaring at Harthril. “You will be—”

  “Shut up,” Elrabin said, tired of intervening, tired of listening to him.

  Foloth’s dark eyes grew black with anger. “I will say what I want.”

  “No, you will listen,” Elrabin snapped. “You’re a fool, Foloth. This was your idea, running off to the city. You got Nashmarl into this.”

  “No,” Foloth said.

  “Yes,” Nashmarl said.

  Foloth glared at his brother, but Elrabin refused to let them start bickering.

  “You wanted to see the Kaa again,” Elrabin said, repeating the boasting he’d overheard in the darkness while guarding the cubs on the trail. “You think the city is made out of gold, with jeweled windows and streets of pearl. Well, it ain’t.” He gestured. “You’ve seen it now. It stinks, cub. It’s got buildings falling down, and cutthroats that don’t like your looks.”

  “That’s the slum,” Foloth said in protest. “For the Rejects. We haven’t seen inside Vir yet, where the real Viis live.”

  Harthril hissed, and his rill stiffened.

  Elrabin shook his head, unable to believe the cub was really this arrogant and stupid.

  Harthril advanced on him, flicking out his tongue. “You think I not real Viis? You think I not have Viis skin, Viis eyes, Viis blood?”

  Foloth looked scared as he backed up a step. “Stay away from me! Don’t crowd me against that force field again. Elrabin!”

  “Your big mouth said the insult,” Elrabin said quietly, letting Harthril loom over Foloth. “You take the consequences.”

  “I hope the next patroller does shoot you!” Foloth said, taking another unwilling step back toward the wall. “You’re hateful and mean. You don’t care anything about us. You don’t even—”

  Elrabin released his hold on Nashmarl and turned on Foloth. He was through being patient with the cub, through holding himself back for Ampris’s sake. “Seems like I told you to shut up.”

  “I won’t!” Foloth told him. “I don’t have to do anything you say.”

  “So where do we stand?” Elrabin asked him. “I don’t like you, I’m mean to you, and I should have saved you sooner? What am I, cub? Your slave?”

  “You’re abiru,” Foloth said. “You were my mother’s servant, and that makes you mine.”

  “And what do you be, cub?” Elrabin asked, his tone low and silky, his temper raging hot.

  Foloth lifted his head very high. “I am half-Viis, which makes me better than you.”

  Elrabin’s ears went flat, and he snarled.

  “Foloth,” Nashmarl said nervously. “Be quiet like he told you.”

  “And your mother, cub?” Elrabin asked Foloth. “She be abiru too. That make you better than her?”

  Confusion flared in Foloth’s eyes. He said nothing.

  Elrabin bared his teeth. It wasn’t a smile. “You fool,” he said, his voice cutting. “You never learn when you make mistakes. You just blame everything on someone else and keep yourself clean and smelling sweet. Only it don’t work that way with us, cub. We see what you really are. We know what you really are. Selfish little arrogant piece of work, that’s you. Useless.”

  Foloth clenched his fists but said nothing. His eyes grew darker.

  “Your mother be special, see?” Elrabin continued. “But she also gets blind when it comes to you. She thinks you two happen to be the center of the universe. But you ain’t. You ain’t even close. What happened today should have taught you that.”

  “She shouldn’t have left us,” Nashmarl said raggedly. “She didn’t have to go, but she wanted to. She wanted to leave and not come back.”

  “She’s in the city, enjoying all its luxuries,” Foloth said coldly.

  “Your mother is either hurt or arrested or dead,” Elrabin said.

  Nashmarl whimpered, but Foloth shook his head.

  “No,” he said with confidence. “We know the truth about her, Elrabin. We know she has a Viis lover. She’s probably—”

  Elrabin elbowed Harthril out of his way and hit Foloth across the mouth. The cub went reeling sideways and fell. Sprawled on the ground, he pressed the back of his hand to his bleeding mouth, and glared at Elrabin with hatred.

  “It’s true!” he shouted. “How else could we—”

  Elrabin kicked him, and Foloth choked out a cry of pain.

  “Ain’t no one finer than your mother!” Elrabin shouted at him. “She’s given everything she has to keep you two free, and you ain’t worth it. You ain’t worth one mouthful of food she’s gone without to see you fed.”

  Foloth set his mouth in a stubborn line and glared at Elrabin.

  Elrabin glared back. “You want the truth? I’ll give it to you. You ain’t got no da at all, cub. How’s that for news? You were created in a laboratory experiment. While she was a prisoner, she had to carry you to term and give birth to you against her will. They tortured her, starved her, took your sister and cut her into little pieces to see what made her tick. Yeah, cubs, that’s where you come from.”

  Nashmarl turned bright red. “It isn’t true!” he said. “It isn’t true! Mother never lies and she hasn’t told us—”

  “Your mother don’t want you to know where you come from,” Elrabin said fiercely. “She don’t want you to carry that scar, see? No, she’s been carrying all the scars herself. Scars in her soul, cubs. Scars that give her bad dreams at night. You’ve heard her scream in her sleep.”

  “She said the bad dreams come from when she was a gladiator and had to kill a lot,” Nashmarl said.

  Elrabin glanced at Foloth, who sat frozen on the ground, not moving, not speaking. “Yeah, but those dreams ain’t so bad as the ones from Vess Vaas.”

  “She must hate us,” Nashmarl whispered. His green eyes looked anguished.

  Elrabin’s anger faded, and he felt a small amount of remorse for having been so cruel. But not much. It was time the cubs learned what they needed to know. “No, she don’t hate you,” he said. “I would have, had I been in her place. But she’s loved you since you were born, and if you don’t know that then ‘stupid’ don’t begin to describe you. She’s sacrificed everything for you two. She even gave up her old dreams of saving the abiru from slavery. Yeah,” he said as both cubs looked at him in astonishment. “She used to risk arrest every day, trying to spread the idea of freedom.”

  “That old stuff,” Foloth said scornfully.

  “Yeah, that old stuff,” Elrabin snapped. “You try living with a restraint collar around your neck, cub, and see how you like it. You put an ownership ring in your ear, whether you want one or not, and you kneel wh
en your master comes in. If your master kicks you”—he gave Foloth a light kick, knocking him over—“then you scramble up and you lick your master’s foot. Property, that’s you. And your master can do anything with you he wants. Ain’t nothing you can say or do. Because if you make trouble or disobey an order or sulk, he can have you flogged. Or he can have your tongue torn out. Or he can sell you to someone else.”

  Elrabin let silence hang between them for a moment. Neither cub was looking at him now. “The only bad mistake I’ve ever seen your mother make is raising you two to be lazy, conceited, and stupid. Just because she thinks the sun rises and sets on you don’t mean squat. Today you trotted into the big, cruel world all by yourself and you found out what it thinks of you.”

  Nashmarl was crying again, silently now, his shoulders shaking. Foloth glared at the river with his mouth pressed in a tight line. Elrabin and Harthril looked at each other as the silence lengthened.

  Elrabin slapped his arms against his sides. He felt spent, like he’d talked too much. “Enough speech-making,” he said finally.

  Harthril nodded. “We going to camp in river tonight?” he asked. “Or we going to get inside city?”

  “I’ll take choice number two,” Elrabin replied.

  “How?”

  “I’d kind of hoped the Rejects would help us get in,” Elrabin said. “But these cubs have ruined that idea.”

  Nashmarl made a low, pained sound in his throat that Elrabin ignored.

  “It is hard to gain Reject trust,” Harthril said. “I know no one in Vir.”

  Elrabin tapped the side of his narrow muzzle and let mischief twinkle in his eyes. “So we go to another plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “We’re going to get in the same way the Skeks and the dust runners do. Through the sewers.”

  “The sewers!” Nashmarl said with repugnance. “Not the—”

  “Oh, yes,” Elrabin told him. The expression puckering Nashmarl’s face cheered him greatly. “Come on. Let’s start looking for a hole.”

  CHAPTER•SIXTEEN

  Noise awakened Ampris. The slam of a door, the rapid clomping of booted feet. She sat up in the basement hideout, her heart pounding, and a blinding light pinned her. Unable to see, her eyes streaming with tears, she held up her hands in an effort to shield herself from the light. Around her, the Myals were crying out in confusion and jumping off their cots.