by D.D. Chant
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kai crossed his legs and settled himself more comfortably against the tree he was leaning against. His attention was firmly fixed on the house and grounds that were separated by a small, well tended hedge from his own property. His face gave nothing of his thoughts away and he seemed relaxed.
Yet Kai was not relaxed.
In the house he watched with such interest was his wife. He grimaced at the word, but still forced himself to use it.
Kai flexed the fingers of his right hand carefully, and studied the bruised appendage for a moment, trying to ease the stiffness that was already making movement uncomfortable. It had been a mistake to go to the training ground that morning. He’d wanted to show everyone that he was still in control, that Aya’s return had changed nothing.
It had been an uncharacteristic error in judgment for him. He should have known that the other Apprentice Headmen would be unable to control their tongues. The result had been predictable, and he was angry with himself for being caught off guard.
He was too used to receiving a certain amount of fearful respect. Aya’s return had cost him that respect, and he had been forced to defend his honour with brutality.
He didn’t really care much for fighting; it was too emotional and impulsive. Kai was not comfortable taking part in disorderly behaviour.
However, this morning there had been no choice. The veiled insults he had withstood for years were now more pointed, and the other young men of prominent families had become bolder in their sneering.
Kai flexed his newly bruised fist absently.
Yesterday he had felt almost sorry, disgracing her in such a public fashion. Now the memory brought him a small degree of satisfaction.
“If you’re that interested you could come over and see what’s happening.”
Kai looked around sharply, surprised to hear Shin’s voice, and saw his friend leaning against a tree not far away. Kai had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he’d been unaware of his friends approach.
“I’m not interested.”
Shin raised his eyebrows speculatively and, stepping over the hedge, sat down beside Kai.
“I have never seen a man waste so much time staring at something he has no interest in.”
Kai ignored his observation.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For yesterday. I know how hard you worked for your position in the Una guard, and that it was not easy for you to give it up.”
Shin’s face lost its smile and he nodded briefly.
“It was nothing. Had our situations been reversed you would have done the same.”
Both men settled in to silence, each occupied with his own thoughts.
“What will you do?” asked Shin after some time had passed.
“As little as possible.”
“You’ll leave it all to Rem?”
“He’ll manage better without me. He wants to forgive her; I would only impede their progress.”
Shin became absorbed in plucking blades of grass from the well-manicured lawn.
“You don’t wish to forgive her?”
Kai tilted his head to one side, considering the question dispassionately.
“Not right now. Maybe not ever.”
Shin frowned and got to his feet.
“I must go back. Is there any message you wish me to carry to Rem?”
Kai’s focus was still on the house as he answered.
“Tell him that if he wishes to speak to me he must visit here. I will not enter his house while she is there.”
Shin nodded his acceptance of the task wearily, and stepped over the hedge.
“Shin? Tell him that if he comes he must not bring her.”
Shin nodded again, and moved off in to the neighbouring garden. Kai eyed the hedge interestedly for some time after his friend had left. The neat green barrier seemed somehow full of symbolism.
Aya’s return had stripped him of two of the few things in his life that he claimed affection for. She had done what Headman Chopra had proven unable to do with his vast resources.
Rem and Shin were no longer at his side. It was their duty to stand with his wife and, until he chose to accept Aya, he had lost them. He mused thoughtfully over the tangled circumstances that had brought him and Aya together in the first place.
Who could have foreseen the breakdown of the Sequence of Marriage?
How could he have ever guessed that he choice he would have had — should have had — would be taken away from him by circumstance?
He had never had an option as to whether he would marry the child that had been selected for him. Yet he could have lived with that. A Headman thought of the good of the Una nation before he thought of his own desires. It was expected. It was the way things were done and he never questioned the traditions.
However, he had not been prepared for Aya.
He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to forget all that stood between them. He couldn’t blame her for her capture, nor could he censure her for loving the Tula family that so obviously cherished her.
Yet he couldn’t forgive her for the emotions she made him feel. His equilibrium was fracturing under stress and he couldn’t control the hate and revenge that burnt in his veins.
Aya was as much a victim as he was himself, he knew that. The rational side of his brain whispered that soothing truth every time he saw her.
The trouble was that the emotional side of his brain, the part of himself that he had spent most of his life trying to eradicate, drowned that whisper out with a pain filled roar of anger.
He hated the person that he became when he was around Aya, and he would never be able to forgive her for that.
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The Tula
Senator Burton sat frowning over the viewer he was reading. He sat at his desk, a cup of untouched coffee slowly going cold at his elbow.
He’d heard nothing more of Ben.
Councillor Ladron had imparted the knowledge that he had been taken over the border into Una territories, but after that seemed to have lost interest in Ben’s plight. Philip still had a creeping suspicion that Corbani Va Dic Ladron was lying, that the Una had not been involved at all, but that it had all been an elaborate ploy. He’d tried to believe that he was wrong, because if Councillor Ladron was behind Ben’s disappearance, then Ben was already dead.
Once Ladron had found out that Ben’s abduction was not a means for pushing the alliance forward, his existence would have become a liability, a secret that could never be uncovered by the Free Nation. To have Ben eternally out of reach, supposedly in the Una Territories would give impetus to his portrayal of the Una as unhinged extremists.
Philip knew that Councillor Ladron would have no hesitation in extinguishing a life that had become problematic to his own. He groaned and sank his head in his hands.
He wasn’t sure which was worse: to carry on with all the doubts, but retain some small inkling of hope.
Or to know once and for all that Ben was gone, and have that slender hope taken away from him.
It was his inability to do anything that was hurting him the most. He should be helping Ben, but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t know who to trust, and the paranoia that he was being watched was so strong he could feel its weight on his shoulders. That Councillor Ladron would have no compunction in bugging his apartments was no longer a doubt in his mind.
Philip railed against the fact that he could not even speak his worries and fears aloud. He was trapped in a foreign land that became more unfriendly with each passing moment. He hated his feelings of helplessness, of knowing he couldn’t even contact the Board of Senators with his concerns. Councillor Ladron was far too cunning to allow that.
The Free Nation was in over its head. The Tula were too powerful; so advanced that it seemed impossible to go against them. The Free Nation could never fight such a huge adversary, but it was unthinkable to give in to Councillor Ladron’s
dictatorial leadership.
The Free Nation would have to play dirty. It wasn’t something Senator Burton would usually agree with, but under the circumstances he could see it was the only way.
Corbani Va Dic Ladron was too powerful, his methods too ruthless, and his hate for the Una too strong. Philip was not sure where the hate stemmed from, but it was vicious and unreasonable.
He knew that when the time came, and the time would come, Councillor Ladron would unleash that furious hate upon the Free Nation also, and they would be helpless before the tide of his strength.
There was only one option.
Councillor Ladron would have to be eliminated.
“Would you care for another coffee, Senator?”
Philip looked up at his secretary, surprised by his soft approach.
“No, thank you, Lester. Could I have a cup of tea instead?”
Lester removed the untouched coffee from the desk, a slight frown between his brows. His P.A. was probably surprised by his sudden predilection for tea, thought Philip, glad to see his secretary taking the vile brew away. Since that day in Ladron’s office the very smell of coffee made him gag.
Senator Burton gazed sightlessly out of the window. The last time he had felt so powerless was when he had lost his wife. Then he had fought his misery with the drive to bring civilisation back to a world in disarray, becoming the youngest Senator the Free Nation had ever seen.
Work had seen him through those hard times, but he had no way of working to help find his son. He had been benched, forced to wait on others. At first he was angry, then frustrated, now it was as though he’d simply burnt out.
“I'm sure they’ll find him sir.”
Lester’s words were tentative, breaking the heavy silence enveloped them both.
“Did Councillor Ladron indicate a time when he would be free to see me?”
“Unfortunately he is too busy today, and regrets that he will not have time to see you.”
Senator Burton gritted his teeth.
“Did he say when he would be available?”
Lester shook his head apologetically.
“No, sir.”
It was the second day in a row that Councillor Ladron had been unavailable, and Philip knew why. He was no longer in charge of the diplomatic mission, therefore he was useless to Councillor Ladron. It was very unlikely that Councillor Ladron would ever have time for him again. He had moved on to plan his next attack on Senator Burton’s replacement.
Philip’s fist pounded the arm of his chair. He wanted news of his son; reliable news that he could believe in, not the second-hand platitudes of Councillor Ladron’s minions.
He wanted facts, not the reams of paperwork that landed on his viewer every morning. Never ending details about the state of the Va Dic Toban residence when the authorities had gained entry, the tracking of the truck that had been used in the escape, and the daring hijack of a Tula drone.
The more he read of what had supposedly happened the more he doubted its truth. It sounded like a novel, not real life at all.
Ben kidnapped?
Unheard of!
Taken to the Una territories?
Whatever for?
He could have believed it if there had been some demand or talk of ransom, but there had been nothing!
No demand.
No statement of intent.
Not even a short transmission claiming responsibility.
There had been nothing at all, only silence.