The Crystal Eye

by Deborah Chester

  But she had to put her own feelings aside and remember what she had come here to do.

  Drawing in an unsteady breath, she glanced at Israi. “May I speak now, majesty?” she asked in a voice of deepest respect and humility.

  “Yes, Ampris,” Israi said. She was glowing with satisfaction and triumph. “We will now accept your confession.”

  A guard pointed at the circle, but Ampris already knew that she had to stand on it to be heard. The cams floated closer to her face, but she kept her hood in place. She was shivering now, and the robe felt good around her.

  In fluent Viis, she began to speak: “The Dancing Death is greatly feared by Viis citizens, and it should be. The once mighty Viis empire was nearly destroyed by this mysterious disease, which was brought back by an explorer from a faraway world. It has decimated families and eliminated entire bloodlines. Millions of Viis died in the last great plague, and no cure was found then. No cure has been found now. Worst of all, the plague left you unable to bear and fertilize eggs with the same abundance as before.”

  Lord Brax leaned forward in his chair and hissed. “Sacrilege!”

  Ampris ignored him. “The legendary beauty of the Viis people has also been diminished by this terrible disease. Fewer and fewer Viis hatchlings are accepted each year. More and more Rejects are pushed out into squalor and poverty, abandoned by their families because they are somehow less than perfect.”

  “Don’t get carried away, Ampris,” Ehssk said to her. “You’re not here to give a speech.”

  She ignored him too. Unless someone shot her, she was going to keep talking. “Your scientists have given you many assurances,” she said. “Your government has issued statements saying that the abiru-fever cannot harm you. But it can. The government has told you falsehoods, claiming that this is not the Dancing Death. It is. It has returned to you in a mutated, more virulent form. It struck the abiru folk first, but it will reach the Viis. It is already spreading among the Reject population, your abandoned chunen, who are dying of it without aid or care.”

  “Ampris,” Israi said coldly, “say what you agreed to say.”

  Ampris stood a little straighter. “Be afraid!” she said, her voice ringing out across the Plaza to the Viis faces upturned to her. “Think how many abiru there are. Yes, the Kaa in her great wisdom has killed many of them, but there are more. Not just the common laborers that lie dead in the ghetto this day, but all the slaves in Viis households. Slaves that prepare Viis food, that tend Viis hatchlings and chunes. The most loyal, loving slave has only to give a hatchling a caressing lick, and the infection is spread. As her majesty already has cause to know.”

  Israi’s rill stiffened and she rose to her feet. The guards started toward Ampris, who cried out, “Will you silence the truth? Do these people know that all the abiru slaves in the palace have been removed? Not one remains to serve the Kaa and her court.”

  Israi gestured, and the guards stopped reluctantly just short of Ampris.

  “Take care,” Israi whispered, her gaze flicking to the cams to show that she was well aware that today’s events were being broadcast live to the entire city and planet.

  The crowd had begun to shift uneasily. People were speaking to each other. A murmur of astonishment and alarm rose from them.

  Ampris pretended not to hear Israi’s warning. She knew the Kaa dared not cut her off at this moment. “The most rebellious, resentful slave has only to spit in the food of his master, and the infection is spread. Perhaps such a thing has already happened in your household. Can anyone watching this vidcast feel complete assurance that no slave in his employ is uninfected? The only way to stop the plague from spreading into the Viis population is to let the abiru leave Viisymel forever. We have made this offer, but the Kaa will not release us. Ask your Imperial Mother to let us go. Ask her!”

  The crowd looked alarmed now. A female screamed, “My chunen are not safe. If the sri-Kaa can die, what will protect my little ones?”

  They began to shove, trying to leave, but the patrollers held them in place.

  “You,” a guard said curtly to Ampris, “stand aside.”

  Ampris whirled around and met Israi’s furious gaze. “What will you say to them, majesty? How will you calm them now?”

  “You go too far,” Israi said. “The death of our son is not a subject for your rhetoric.”

  “I sympathize with your loss,” Ampris replied. “Ask Ehssk why he had to dissect my daughter at birth.”

  Israi’s gaze faltered. She glanced at the scientist momentarily, and he rose to his feet. “Majesty, this accusation from a slave is too absurd. What possible—”

  “Be silent,” Israi said.

  Beyond the dais the crowd was sounding frantic and angry now. Israi’s attention moved in that direction. Her tongue flicked out.

  “You will pay for this, Ampris,” she said harshly and stepped out from behind her protective shield.

  “Majesty, be careful!” Lord Brax called out.

  But Israi walked to the circle and stood there, facing her alarmed subjects with magnificent, regal calm. Within seconds, they stopped pushing at the barricades and turned to stare at her. She gestured, and they fell silent.

  “Good citizens, you have seen our mercy toward this poor deluded Aaroun, who was once dear to our heart. We raised her as a pet, and out of fond memories we allowed her to speak today, giving her the chance to confess her wrongdoing to you. Instead, she has alarmed you with lies and yet more lies.”

  “Majesty, take care!” called out someone from the crowd.

  Her rill extended fully behind her head, Israi smiled. She glittered in the sunlight with every breath she drew. “We believe the assurances of our eminent scientists.”

  From his chair, Ehssk bowed very low.

  “We have not removed our abiru slaves from the palace,” Israi said, lying boldly. “How could we appear before you dressed and bathed and jeweled if this were true? The sri-Kaa we will not discuss, for our heart grieves too much. How many of you have lost young and tender hatchlings in their first year?” She raised the edge of her scarf to her face as though to mask grief, then lowered it. “So many things go wrong so quickly.”

  She paused a moment, bowing her head, and no one moved or spoke.

  “Citizens,” she continued, “listen not to the ravings of an ignorant savage. We say ‘ignorant,’ for although Ampris was given an education by us, taught to read and speak Viis for our amusement when we were young, she does not understand what she has read. She has convinced her fellow abiru that a treaty once existed between her people and ours, a treaty that promised the Aarouns their freedom.”

  Israi spread out her hands. “Such a treaty was signed centuries ago, but its terms stipulated that the Aarouns could not leave our service until their land became capable of supporting life again. Lord Temondahl?”

  She turned to the chancellor, who handed her a holo-cube.

  Activating it, Israi held up the image of Sargas III before the cams, displaying it as a barren, lifeless rock. “This is the homeworld of the Aaroun race,” Israi said. “We saved the Aarouns from death centuries ago, and they owe us a great debt. Yet now we are accused of deceit and evil oppression, for we will not let them return to a world which cannot support life. How many of you have stopped a chune from hurting herself and been accused of oppression when she threw a tantrum?”

  Chuckles ran through the audience.

  Ampris looked at them sharply, realizing Israi was a master at manipulating them.

  Israi smiled. “The other abiru races also depend on us for our care of them and the meaningful employment we provide. Medical treatment has been offered to those afflicted with the abiru-fever. They distrust our mercy and refuse the treatment. What can we do?”

  Her lies were smooth. Ampris glared at her, growling softly in her throat.

  “Citizens,” Israi said. “If you have fears about the health of any abiru you own, give them to the government. We will be importing fre
sh, uninfected slave stock that you may purchase for a discount in the auction.”

  “What about the infected Rejects?” Ampris asked loudly.

  A guard struck her from behind, driving her to her knees. Israi flashed him an angry glance, and he backed off.

  Gasping, feeling the world tilt and sway around her, Ampris fought to maintain consciousness. Slowly, though it took almost all her strength, she rose unsteadily once more. She was colder than ever now, despite the robe, and she forced herself not to shiver.

  “The Rejects who have fallen ill are no matter for concern,” Israi was saying. “We all know that they are feeble, sickly creatures from birth—otherwise, they would not be Rejects. No true Viis citizen accepted in society and of good health will ever succumb to this disease, especially if the infected abiru are quarantined and treated.”

  Ampris stepped closer to the Kaa. Again a guard started to intervene, but a glance from Israi stopped him.

  “Come, Ampris,” Israi said boldly, holding out her hand. “We cannot free your people, for they have nowhere to go. Let us care for you as we always have. Let us show you that we are merciful and capable of kindness.”

  Despite the alarmed gasps of the crowd, she gripped Ampris’s hand. Behind her, Chancellor Temondahl shot to his feet, and even Ehssk looked startled.

  “Majesty, have great care,” Temondahl said.

  Ampris smiled to herself beneath her hood. She had been counting on Israi to grandstand.

  “Ampris will never hurt us,” Israi declared to them all, keeping one eye on the cams. “She was once our dear companion, our golden Aaroun. The Imperial Mother fears no disease, and neither will her subjects.”

  Ampris took yet another step closer to Israi, inhaling the Kaa’s perfume, hearing the rustle of the Kaa’s beautiful skirts, seeing how the delicate skin around the Kaa’s ear canals had begun to wrinkle ever so slightly.

  Facing the cams, Ampris said, “If any historians survive to record this day, they will write of the great destruction. They will write of how Israi Kaa brought down the Viis Empire.”

  Israi flicked out her tongue in anger and tried to jerk free her hand, but Ampris held it tightly and would not let go.

  “You had your chance, Israi,” Ampris said. “You could have sent us away and lived. Now we will all die together.”

  As she spoke, she shoved back her hood and stared into Israi’s widening, horrified eyes. In the nearest cam’s small reflecting lens, Ampris could see that her own eyes were clouded white with fever. Her tongue had begun to swell, and her skin was puffy with heat.

  She lifted Israi’s hand, still clasped in hers, and let the world see how violently the fever made her shake. Chills and heat alike ran through Ampris, twisting her so that she could barely stand upright. Spittle drooled from one corner of her mouth.

  “No,” Israi said in panic, still trying to pull free.

  On the dais behind the force field, the chancellors were shouting. The guards circled, seeking an angle that would let them shoot Ampris without harming Israi.

  “It can’t be!” Israi shouted fearfully, her eyes wide. “It can’t be!”

  “Here is death,” Ampris said and spit right into Israi’s face.

  CHAPTER•TWENTY-TWO

  It was as though civilization snapped. Chaos broke out in all directions. A screaming Israi reeled back from Ampris, her hands clawing at her face. Ehssk shrank away from the Kaa, refusing to touch her. That frightened the others, who gathered around her helplessly.

  One of the guards shot at Ampris, but she collapsed at that moment and the shot missed her, going into the crowd, which screamed and fought to get away. The captain of the guard was shouting orders that no one heeded.

  And from various points around the Plaza, Rejects came staggering out of hiding. Rejects with white-filmed eyes and swollen rills. Rejects reaching out for citizens or falling in convulsions from the fever.

  Panic spread as the crowd ran in all directions. Viis citizens in colorful clothes were suddenly hitting and fighting each other to get away. Other Viis streamed out from nearby buildings, shouting and running as though they had gone suddenly crazy.

  Lying on the dais while the chancellors’ and guards’ attention focused on the still-hysterical Israi, Ampris panted from the fever, which filled her with flames. Her skin felt like it was bursting from the heat and swelling.

  “Get the Imperial Mother to safety!” someone was shouting. “You fools, there’s nothing to fear from her.”

  Ampris looked up and her cloudy vision cleared momentarily. She saw Chancellor Temondahl gather Israi into his arms and assist her off the dais toward the imperial litter. The guards followed, and Ampris knew this was her chance.

  She had intended to kill Ehssk at this moment, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor did she have the strength.

  Revenge faded from her mind. She knew the scientist had condemned himself when he’d refused to help the Kaa.

  Ampris tried to remember what she was supposed to be doing, but she could no longer concentrate. The flames were around her. She could see now that her fur was blazing. Weakly, she tried to beat out the flames, but instead all she managed to do was roll herself off the dais.

  The impact of landing on the ground jolted her back to consciousness. She was so thirsty, and yet her throat was filled with sour-tasting mucus. It choked her, and she coughed, thrusting herself up on her elbows as her chest seemed to break apart.

  To her right, the barricade had been torn down and trampled. She saw a shoe lying on the pavement and the crowd running now down the Avenue of Triumph. A Reject fell only a short distance from her and lay there dying.

  Ampris tried to crawl to him, but suddenly hands were grasping her by her shoulders and picking her up.

  She could not see, could not save herself.

  “Goldie!” said Elrabin’s voice, choked with emotions she could not identify. “Come on now. Can you walk? Try!”

  He pulled her to her feet. She swayed, unable to see anything but shadows, hearing and feeling the flames that were consuming her. She tried to speak, but only a moan came from her throat.

  Now she was floating through the air. Opening her eyes, she squinted against the blinding light and turned her head against Elrabin’s shoulder. She recognized his scent. He was carrying her, his gait rough and hurried, his breath rasping in his throat.

  “Too heavy,” she mumbled weakly. “Hurt you.”

  “Never mind about me,” he said in a grim, breathless voice. “Got to get you out of here. How much of it did you take?”

  She sighed, and found herself freezing, shivering, and crying out in pain.

  Something jolted her, and she hit her head sharply against something hard and unyielding. He’d dropped her, she thought.

  But the ground dipped and bobbed beneath her.

  “Just lie there,” Elrabin said, panting heavily, “while I get this crate moving.”

  She didn’t understand, but then she heard an engine sputter to life, and Elrabin saying, “Come on. Come on.”

  And they were flying. She could hear the sound of the wind. It felt deliciously cool, and the flames went out as though snuffed.

  “Elrabin,” she said. Her voice sounded thick and strange to her ears.

  “Hang on, Goldie. Just hang on.”

  The skimmer swerved violently, and Ampris moaned. They swerved again, and came to a lurching stop.

  Ampris closed her eyes, sinking into the heat. The flames were back, crackling in her ears, singeing her fur. She twisted this way and that, crying out, and felt his hands grip her hard.

  “How much did you take?” he asked frantically. “Goldie, Goldie, wake up and talk to me. I meant to ask you before you left. How much did you take?”

  It was so hard to listen to what he was saying. She opened her eyes with a great effort and saw the snowflakes falling on a huge fire that lit the night sky. “Vess Vaas,” she whispered. She was freezing, standing knee-deep in snow. Her fur
felt brittle, like it might fall off. Her nose had gone numb and she could no longer feel her ears.

  “Goldie, come on. Stay with me now,” Elrabin was saying. His voice was so faint she could barely hear him, then suddenly he sounded very loud. “How much did you take?”

  She wanted to see him, but she couldn’t. He sounded so upset, his voice choked as though he were crying. But Elrabin was tough and streetwise. He didn’t cry. She had to be imagining all this.

  She lifted her hand, and he gripped it in his.

  “Ampris,” he said, pleading with her. “Try.”

  He never called her by her real name. The fear in his voice suddenly pierced through her fog. She realized he must be asking her something important. She had to help him. He was her friend.

  “Elrabin?” she asked.

  “How much did you take?” he repeated. “Some of it? Half of it? All of it? Tell me!”

  The answer came to her, momentarily clear. “All of it,” she said.

  A convulsion made her arch her back and cry out. She heard Elrabin shouting something, felt a sharp prick in her arm.

  The pain stopped. Her muscles relaxed, and she dropped flat again, breathing hard. She wanted to see him one last time, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

  And it was dark.

  Israi reclined on a couch, surrounded by physicians, a damp cloth lying across her brow. Her magnificent gown was torn and stained with dirt. Bracelets were missing from her bruised wrists, as were some of the jewels that had dangled from her rill spines.

  None of her attendants had come near her since Lord Temondahl had brought her back to the palace. She lay now in this chamber she did not recognize, with only the physicians around, prodding her and drawing blood, and felt a fear so terrible and deep she could not think of anything else.

  Was she dying? Was she infected? She could not bear to ask the questions. What if she were? She looked into that abyss and her mind would not cope with the answers there. What if she were not? She closed her eyes and prayed, although she had no hope that the panoply of ancient gods would hear her. They were gone long ago, vanished into an age of myth and superstition. Israi performed the worship rituals at official ceremonies as part of her imperial duties, not out of belief.