Run, the Voice screamed in his head.
This broke the spell. David flung the justice against the wall and ran out, the whispering voice frantically urging the justice to stop him. He rushed to his room and got dressed. Removing the loose stone from the wall, he grabbed the hidden e-lib while considering his exit from the colossal building.
Take the stairs down! We’ll climb out of a window there.
He did as the Voice said, and dashed along a long corridor that led to a large, open window. As he pried it open, a sharp pain filled his whole body, triggered by a violent spasm that originated at his chest. The shock passed through him. His legs gave way. He crashed onto the soft, blood-red carpet, flopping like a fish out of water, gasping for air.
Walker residence, Anthea, Western Democracies
Sol
She had finally managed to fall asleep at dawn, the constant throbbing from her wounds keeping her awake until then. This, despite the endless stream of various painkilling broths forced down her throat by her maid, each more foul-smelling than the previous one.
The door to her room creaked open, startling her awake. Soft footsteps into the room followed. The maid’s chair squeaked as she leaned forward to place a protective hand on Sol’s shoulder. “She needs her rest,” the woman hissed under her breath.
“I’m sorry,” a man’s voice said. “She wanted to know if Altman or Dion showed up. Dion’s here.”
Sol opened heavy eyelids. She touched her maid’s hand. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Then, in a gravelly voice, “Let her in.”
With the help of her maid, Sol propped herself up, grinning in pain. “Open the windows. Then, change my bandages.”
Questioning wrinkles appeared on the maid’s forehead. “We don’t need to for at least another hour.”
“I want her to see the wounds,” Sol whispered. “Start with the thigh. Make it painful.”
The maid cocked an eyebrow but made no comment as she pushed open the shutters, then turned away to fetch fresh linen bandages and more ointment from a narrow cupboard.
The door opened again. “Sol,” Dion said, bursting into the room, “I’m so glad you’re doing better.” Without waiting for permission, she drew the chair the maid had just emptied and pulled it close to the bed. “We were so worried about you.”
Sol’s lips curled up into a half-smile. “So kind of you.” She smacked her dry lips and nodded to a cup on the nightstand next to her. The woman hurried to place it against her lips. The contents were aromatic but bitter, despite the honey added to the brew. She drank a few sips before nodding it away.
Dion placed the cup back on the nightstand and lowered her voice. “I want you to know we had nothing to do with this. We’re politicians, not murderers.”
“Funny,” Sol said in a hoarse whisper. “Axel said the same thing.”
Anger flashed on Dion’s face. Or was that fear? “He’s an animal. I wouldn’t believe a word he says.”
“I’m sure the investigation into the incident will reveal who did what,” Sol said in a soft voice. “I’ll lead it personally. After all, who has more interest in catching those who tried to kill me?”
This time, there was no mistaking the flash of fear across Dion’s face.
She may not be behind this, but she’s worried what I may find out. Sol flinched as her maid approached them and touched her bandaged thigh. “I’m sorry, it looks like it’s time for another bandage change. Do you mind?” She let out a loud hiss when the maid lifted the bloodied linen from her skin.
“Not at all,” Dion said in a shaky voice. Her gaze caught on the angry wound and the colour left her face. She stood up and walked to the window, drawing deep breaths. “The important thing is you get better.” Her fist pressed against her mouth.
“The important thing is the city gets better.” Sol drew another hissing breath as her maid plastered cold ointment onto the wound. She clenched her fists to drown out the spasm that whipped through her body. “It’s only fair to warn you,” she continued, when she managed to unclench her jaw again, “I will take my reforms to the people as soon as I’m back on my feet.”
“I know,” Dion said, gazing out of the window and into the street. “Did you know there’s a throng of people outside?”
Despite the pain, Sol’s lips twitched upward. Her house was constantly guarded by an unending stream of club-wielding supporters. The amazing thing was, no one had organized this; they had come on their own, more with each passing day. “They’re the reason why my reforms will go through. Which is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Dion crossed her arms and faced her. The light coming through from the window hid half her face in deep shadows, but there was no doubt she was less than pleased. “What are your proposals, exactly?”
Finally. Somehow, Sol managed to keep her face expressionless. “Do you know the hardest part of my tenure? It wasn’t dealing with the war effort. It was dealing with the constant demands of our citizens. Small stuff, but it took most of my day. Right now, our city is governed by an elected prefect. But it’s grown too much to be governed by a single person. I want nine Lords to tend to Anthea’s everyday matters.”
“I can’t see the—”
“Please, let me finish.”
Dion’s face twitched at the interruption, but she pressed her lips together and held her silence.
“The Lords will be appointed by judges,” Sol continued. “A new body, to be formed by older members of the aristocracy.” She stopped to make sure the woman understood the significance.
Dion’s drawn face relaxed somewhat. “In other words, the families that form the Bulls and Sea Lions.”
“Exactly.”
Dion tapped her chin with a gnarly finger for a long while. “That might work,” she said in the end.
Sol almost let out a relieved breath. If everything went to plan, the two parties would soon be consumed in an irrelevant fight over who became a judge. In reality, it made little difference: the prefect would still have to approve judges. She kept that fact to herself for now. For the first time in decades—centuries, even—the people would control the parties; not the other way around. But what would really break the parties’ hold on people was money. They’ve made people hungry. I will feed them.
Her maid finished wrapping up her thigh in fresh bandages and moved to her shoulder, snapping Sol’s attention back to the present. The woman placed with fast, efficient moves a wet towel on top of the linen to unclot the blood underneath.
Even that simple act caused pain to lance through Sol’s body. “Good to hear,” she hissed through ground teeth. She drew measured breaths until the pain subsided. “Now, the economy. First, I’ll write off the debts of the lower classes and the farmers, giving them back their voting rights.”
Dion leaned against the wall, a smile gracing her face for the first time. “That won’t go down well with Axel.”
Sol scoffed at that. No, it won’t. “Nor will this: I’ll confiscate the largest lands, to distribute them among the poorest citizens. That measure alone will cut joblessness in half.”
Dion let out a slow whistle. “No wonder he tried to have you killed.”
Keep believing that. “And failed.”
“What will all these new farmers grow? Wheat? These people have no experience farming.”
This time, there was no hiding Sol’s satisfaction. If she wants to learn about the details, she’s sold on the idea. A smile played on her lips. “That’s why they’ll produce olives. Olive groves are simple to maintain. Plus, oil is easy to transport and sell far away, offering them a higher income. Also, figs. They can be dried for transport. Anyone more experienced can grow vines. Wine is another premium product.” Now for the kill. “We’ll export everything. Wheat can be imported, probably from Jonia. But for all that, we’ll need ships.”
Dion uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, the smile on her face widening. “Go on.”
“I’ll tax the new farmers at a low r
ate. Say, ten percent. This will mean a steady income for the city. Money I’ll use to build the largest merchant fleet on the planet.”
Dion’s eyes sparkled with greed. She rubbed her hands together. “An ambitious plan.” She paused. Her lips quivered in silent calculation. “But the numbers don’t add up. There’s no way taxes alone can do this.”
Sol nodded in admiration. The woman had reached in minutes the same conclusion that had taken Sol days to calculate. No wonder you’re head of the merchants. “True. That’s why I’ll have the city buy all the gold and silver mines not occupied by the Capital in the north. We can then mint as much currency as we wish. Anthean Owls will be the prime currency on Pearseus.”
A deep frown set on Dion’s face. “How? I don’t get it.”
“Our currency is plagued by fraud. I want to make Owls the standard for commerce. That means strict control of the amount of silver and gold in them.”
Dion rubbed her chin in thought, her piercing blue eyes measuring up Sol. “So, it’s not agriculture you see as Anthea’s future.”
“No. It’s a service economy. And the Sea Lions stand to gain the most from such a switch.”
“Which will both ensure the survivability of your reforms, and strike the final blow against the Bulls.” A grin of understanding appeared on Dion’s lips.
Smart woman. “No one will be left without a job. When my brother grows up, he’ll be living in the greatest city of all. Even the Capital will bow before our might.”
Dion slithered back to Sol. “Like I said before, an ambitious plan. But you’ll need help. What’s in it for us?”
“Like I said before, it’s the Sea Lions who will gain the most from my reforms. What more do you need?”
Dion flashed a huge grin and offered her hand. “You’ve got yourself an ally.”
Sol took the hand and squeezed it as hard as her aching muscles allowed. “Let’s save our city.”
Chamber of Justice, the Capital
David
David could not stop his convulsions. From the corner of his eye he caught a silhouette approach him, rolling a silver sphere in its hands. Prying it in two halves, the shadow knelt next to him and pushed them against his chest. Tiny blue sparks flew around the sphere’s edges, like miniscule lightning, and David watched in agony as a ball of light emerged from his chest. Its colours were different now; it seemed to suffer, and her pain was added to his, making him scream. As soon as the ball of light exited his body, the metal sphere snapped shut and David’s body finally stopped shaking, allowing him to breathe again.
He lay still, feeling amputated; crippled. Every cell in his body hurt as a sob escaped his lips at the immense sense of emptiness that overcame him. Through the tears, he struggled to focus on the shadow standing over him, making out a Guardian. The man helped David up to his feet and raised his visor. Two prematurely aged eyes studied David, his hands all over him, examining him.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
“Why?” David asked.
“Why what?” the man asked absentmindedly.
“Why did you do that?”
“Save your life, you mean? The Justice told us about the parasite. She seems to have a nose for those things; you’re not the first to catch one. What’s worse, yours was pregnant. Giving birth could have killed you.”
David’s eyes popped. “No way. She’s my friend.”
The Guardian chuckled. “Yes, I’ve heard others say as much. Since you spoke to her, she must have mentioned her origin. I’ll bet she forgot to mention that our kinds are no longer compatible?”
“She said that our kind grew along with hers,” David murmured, rubbing his aching chest.
“Sure, ages ago. We haven’t been compatible for millennia, though. After a few months, couple of years at the most, they give birth and kill their host. Dunno, perhaps it didn’t use to be like that; perhaps we changed in the meantime. Or maybe they did. Who knows? Then again, I don’t know how they get knocked up either, but that’s not my problem. We’ll take her to the lab and perhaps they will find out more. All you need to know is you had a close one.”
David did not know what to believe. A lab in the Capital? Research was forbidden; where did a lab come from? And what about the feeling in his gut? He had never felt as alive as when the Voice was inside of him, yet something told him the man was not lying either. It explained the suspicion he had from the beginning, that she was hiding something. He rubbed his chest where the sphere had left two red circles.
The Guardian put the sphere in his pocket and took David by the shoulder. He stumbled, and the man leaned forwards to hold him. With a quickness he had no idea he possessed, David reached inside the Guardian’s pocket and stole the sphere. He pushed it against the man’s chest, feeling it pulse under his hand. Sparks flew and the Guardian’s eyes betrayed his surprise as he crashed on the floor, his whole body convulsing.
“I’m really sorry, but she’s still my friend.”
He had no idea how to free her from the silver prison, so he twisted and pushed the device until it clicked open and a ball of light rushed out. It hovered undecided in front of him.
“What are you waiting for?” David shouted. “Come!”
He motioned towards his chest, and after a moment’s hesitation the ball of light raced towards him. David felt her terror as she entered his body. The relief at filling the void inside of him washed it away in seconds.
“We’ll make a deal,” he said, breathless. “From now on, no more secrets. Agreed?”
The Voice was silent for a moment. “Why did you save me? Aren’t you afraid I could kill you?”
“It’s true, then?”
“Birth can be dangerous for all species; ours is not an exception. Our birth can be somewhat… violent, and our host may not survive it. It’s rare; but yes, it’s possible.”
He thought of how empty his life had been before their encounter, and grimaced. “There are worse things than death.”
He paused to check on the unconscious Guardian. David hoped he would be fine; judging by his experience, the shock did not seem to cause any permanent damage. He checked his pocket for the e-lib, thanking Themis that the Guardian had not noticed it, or he would have treated David much differently: as a rule, servants did not carry Pearseus’ most valued possessions with them. He rushed to the window again and flung it open, examining the elegant gardens below. Panic swallowed him at the sight of a dozen alarmed guards blocking his path, searching for him. Think, David, think!
A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jolt. He spun around to face the largest woman he had ever laid his eyes upon. She wore the garments of a Themis priest: a white robe with an amulet of Themis’s scales on a long gold chain, hanging around her thick neck. Two piercing eyes studied him.
“You just attacked a Guardian,” she said in a casual voice. “Do you know the penalty for that, son? I’ll give you a hint: it ain’t pretty.”
David tried to escape her huge hand, but her grip was too strong. Still, the woman’s eyes did not seem angry. More like… amused?
“So… you want to live?” the woman continued. David nodded, too scared to speak. “Then follow me.”
She turned towards the wall and pushed a tile. David gasped as the wall slid to reveal a small opening. For a second he wondered how she would fit in, but she moved with a litheness that surprised him, pulling him inside. The wall closed behind them and a dim, ambient light lit up, illuminating a narrow passageway that led downwards. David took an uncertain step, angling away from her.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“Why don’t you tell me who you are, first?”
“I’m David.”
“You have a surname, David?”
David’s eyes squinted as he pondered the question. Why had the woman saved him, if she did not even know who he was? Anyway, no one but the rich had surnames.
“Just David.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong. You’re
David Rivera, descendent of Lucas Rivera himself. You pass under his statue every day. How can you shape your future if you don’t know your past?”
He rarely thought of his famous ancestor, and brushed off the comment. Anyway, why did she ask who he was if she already knew the answer? “I know who I am. But who are you?”
She moved fast for a woman her size, making him hurry after her. “A simple priestess of Themis. Most people call me Tie.”
She glanced back at him to see if he got the joke. “Themis is all about balance, hence Tie. As in, ‘This match was a tie.’ Get it? Hmm?” She sighed theatrically when she realised the joke was lost on David, who stared at her bug-eyed.
“Tie, the Head Priestess?”
“So I’m told.”
He clutched his arms around him, a wave of terror hitting him. “Are you gonna punish me?”
Tie paused, as if pondering David’s question, and he almost bumped into her. “You see, son, the problem with the law is that it’s so… arbitrary. Did you know that until recently one of the Democracies forbade people to even speak in favour of war? No? Or take the Loyalists’ prohibition of knowledge: everyone must know just enough to do their job. If you’re caught trying to learn more, you’re a traitor. Only marginally worse than the situation here, really. We should all be flying in hovercars and living in skyscrapers, but no; the powers that be decreed that only a few have access to knowledge. How can people advance like this? No wonder we’ve been thrown back to the Dark Ages.” She scratched her cropped hair. “Anyway, what was I saying? And close that mouth before a fly flies in.”
David gulped. “You were saying you won’t punish me,” he said in a hurry.
“Ah, yes. Well, that’s just the thing: It’s common sense that you should protect a friend in need. Do you think common sense is common?” David nodded, and the woman shook her head. “I see you’re still very young, much like your friend inside you. No, nothing’s more uncommon than common sense. And Themis is more than obeying the law. Take out the kernel of spiritual truth within any faith, and what’s left is dogma. Our dogma is following the letter of the law; but our faith is serving justice. Justices Barrett and Dar, rest their souls, understood this. But her Honour the Harpy? As bad as they get. She ignores Themis’s first rule: law must be tempered with compassion. Law without compassion allows men to be as cruel as their worst nature allows. It’s no better than tyranny, as Barrett said. Remember that.”
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 9