Val dismissed his attendants. As soon as they were out of hearing, he turned to the Great Cat and lowered his hood. “I am not who I appear to be. Sir Jarl is dead. He commanded me to come in his place. To prove it, I give you the password. It’s grafsdia’a.”
The Great Cat looked deep into Val’s eyes, his lips raised to display jagged teeth. “The password is outdated, Sire.”
Val suddenly found himself pinned against the wall. The Great Cat ripped the cape from him and searched his body, discovering the blaster. He turned Val roughly, staring deep into his eyes, his fiendish muzzle only inches away.
>Tell him the blaster belonged to Sir Jarl. It has his imprint on it.<
“The weapon belonged to Sir Jarl,” Val stated. “It is marked so. I have no other weapons.”
The Great Cat studied the blaster for a moment, then placed it into a pouch at its waist. “What is your purpose here?”
“Daughter is going to be killed.”
“What is the nature of the threat?”
“It’s the Horlig ambassador. Well, it’s really the Corvold ambassador, the Horlig is unaware that he’s the danger.”
The Great Cat stared at him, and Val understood his confusion. “It’s complicated, sir. I gave you the password, and I’m wearing Sir Jarl’s cape which is covered with his blood. I’m acting on his orders. Any delay now will mean her life.”
The cat made a decision and marched him to the door. The other Great Cat opened the door but remained in the corridor. “Know that I am beside you,” his escort stated in a soft growl beside Val’s ear. “Any false move and I will not hesitate to kill you. Do not approach Daughter.”
Val remained mute. They entered the chamber, to the side and slightly behind Daughter. She stood some ten meters away. One Corvold, a reptile, and one Horlig, a human, knelt before her, their heads bowed. Behind them, some 50 people filled the chamber. Two Protectors patrolled opposite sides of the room while two others sat on their haunches behind Daughter at the front of the room. One of those left to approach Val and his guard.
“What is this?” he growled, looking Val over from head to foot.
“Otis, he claims that a Knight, Sir Jarl, is dead. He claims further that Daughter is going to be killed.”
“What is the nature of the threat?” Otis demanded harshly, his eyes glaring into Val’s eyes.
But Val did not have time to explain. Both representatives had risen to their feet to present their gifts.
Daughter spoke as she reached forward, saying, “You offer these gifts with no conditions attached, and there will be no conditions. Know that they will not have an impact on my findings.”
Val heard Sir Jarl’s command in his mind: “At any cost.” Yelling “Nooo!” he scuttled quickly toward Daughter.
Unknown to Val, Otis, the Great Cat, instantly sprang to his side and stayed half a step ahead of him. Otis did not know what the threat was, but he understood that this boy might. Even if the boy himself was the threat, Otis would be ahead of him, blocking his access to Daughter. Val moved so quickly that the presenters still had their hands held out before them with the crystals. Just before Val reached them, another Great Cat pulled Daughter back and hustled her from the room.
Val had eyes only for the crystals. He reached out and clamped a hand to the first crystal, then the second. Without a hand for his crutch, he hopped a few steps and crashed to the floor, curling up around the crystals with his eyes closed.
Pandemonium spread through the chamber, but Val cared little for that. In his mind he communed with Sir Jarl, looking into eyes that had, just before dying, sternly commanded him. Those eyes, now full of approval, welcomed. Val had never known a father, and this man’s approval filled his heart.
“I’m not ready to die, Sire,” he mumbled.
The great Knight just nodded, his warm gaze never leaving Val’s.
Val felt arms go around him and believed them to be the arms of the Knight, but it was only Otis. When he opened his eyes, Otis’ muzzle filled his view. “I must know the nature of the threat, boy,” Otis growled.
Hating himself for it, Val felt tears coursing down his cheeks. He couldn’t help it. On the one hand, he was still within the aura of the great Knight. On the other, the poison was surely killing him. “I’m not ready to die,” he cried.
Otis grasped Val’s face with a clawed hand and turned it toward him. “What is the nature of the threat, boy?” he growled again.
“One of these crystals is poisoned.”
“They were tested. Could you have erred?”
“One was switched at the last moment.”
“I see. Release them, boy.”
Val tried relaxing his hands, but he could not. He maintained a death grip on both crystals, one of which continued to pour poison into his body. Then he heard the Voice.
>This stuff hurts. I need you to go to sleep now, Val. See you on the other side.<
Chapter Thirty-nine: Just a Number
Otis spoke into his communicator as he followed the stretcher to the roof of the mansion. “Is Daughter aboard yet?”
“Resolve just got here. She’s boarding now.”
“Hold the ship and alert sick bay. I’m bringing a potential poison victim aboard.”
“Very well, sir.”
When they stepped out onto the roof, Resolve’s entrance ramp was right in front of them. Extraction plans were rarely put to use, but when they were, Otis demanded perfection and he got it.
A crewmember whisked Val to sick bay. Otis stayed until he’d been examined, then left in search of Daughter. He found her on the bridge. He noted that Resolve was already in orbit, and the escort ships were in battle position about Resolve, all according to the plan.
Daughter’s formal garments were gone. She had changed into a comfortable, silky blouse and a pair of pants, her usual attire aboard ship. He sat at attention before her. Her expression was grim, but she appeared unruffled. This was not the first time she had been threatened, and they had practiced these things many times.
“What happened, Otis?”
“I’m not certain, My Lady. Indications are that one of the crystals you were about to accept was poisoned.”
Her hand went to her throat as she considered how close she’d come to touching them. “How is that possible?”
“I can’t say at the moment. I know they were checked by experts, but I don’t know if a switch was made. We’ll know soon. Clearly, we need to review our procedures.”
“I should say so! But we can’t cover every eventuality, and we never will. That’s why I count on you.”
“I may have failed you this time, My Lady.”
“We all fail some of the time. We’ve had this conversation before. We make mistakes, we learn from them, and we continue forward from there. Are you clear on that?”
“I am, My Lady.” His communicator buzzed. He lifted it to his ear, listened, then put it back in its pouch. His gaze met hers. “One of the crystals was poisoned,” he stated.
She sat in a nearby crew seat, then changed her mind. “I need to think. Let’s go to my quarters.”
She stepped into the central shaft, Otis right behind her, and dropped four levels, then strode purposely in a direction opposite her quarters. She needed time to think, and walking the long circumference of the saucer-shaped ship sufficed for that purpose. Otis padded along by her side.
“There’s more, isn’t there,” she stated softly.
“I’m afraid so, My Lady.”
“Okay, out with it.”
“I’m still piecing it together, but it appears that a Knight might have died acquiring the knowledge that saved you.”
She stopped with her eyes closed. “A Knight? On this world? Are you certain?”
“Pretty certain.”
She turned to find Otis’ outstretched hand reaching to her. In the palm of that hand were two Knight’s Pins. Her eyes narrowed, then she reached for one and closed her two hands about it tightl
y. Her eyes closed and all expression left her face for a time. When she returned her gaze to Otis, she said softly, “The life force is gone from the pin. He’s dead.”
She leaned against the wall, then slid to a sitting position with her knees drawn up, grieving for the unknown Knight. Otis sat at attention on the floor before her, his heart grieving for her as much as for the unknown Knight.
“Who was the Knight?” she asked after a time.
“A ‘Sir Jarl.’ I do not know of him.”
“Sir Jarl!” She considered, then said, “He was before your time.” She paused, then asked, “Who was the boy?”
“I have no idea, My Lady. He is here.”
“Here!”
“In sick bay.”
“He was hurt?”
“He was poisoned. I surmise that he was sent by Sir Jarl. Only the boy knew the threat, and there was no time to explain it to us. He took both crystals from the ambassadors with his bare hands.”
Her eyes grew large once again. “I barely saw him, but he looked like a beggar, a filthy beggar. I seem to remember he only had one leg.”
“He does. I know little about him. He is a child to whom life has not been kind. The filth you saw was dried blood, I think Sir Jarl’s. Though just a child, he acted with honor, My Lady. When I spoke to him, he clearly understood that his actions would result in his own death. That’s why I brought him. It’s the least we could do.”
“Is there no hope?”
“I don’t know. The poison takes two days to kill, but the antidote is not successful in most cases.”
She stood up. “I would meet this boy.”
“Thank you, My Lady.”
“Is there more?” she asked as they headed for sick bay.
“Probably. It’s too soon to say, though certainly the political ramifications will have to be dealt with. At this point, I can’t say if the ambassadors were aware of the plot, nor can I say if either of them was poisoned.”
“I don’t recall either one wearing gloves.”
“Nor do I. To me, the whole thing makes no sense. Surely, whichever party attempted to poison you would be named eventually, yet these people are not stupid. What could they have been thinking?”
“Ahh, palace intrigues. They never end, Otis. I’m counting on you to remain by my side. Will you?”
“As you said, we learn from our mistakes, and we press on. I will not desert you, My Lady.”
She rested a hand on the fur around his neck, not as one would a pet, but as one would a close friend. No more would be spoken of failures.
When they entered sick bay, Val was sitting up in bed, his right hand wrapped in a bandage and another bandage over the right side of his chest where the crystal had rested. Sir Jarl’s blood had been cleaned from his body during the search for areas that had come in contact with the crystal. It took him a moment to recognize Daughter, but when he did, he frantically tried to get out of bed.
She placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into the pillow. She studied him intently, focusing mostly on his eyes, though she did not miss the flattened area beneath the sheets where a leg should have been. What she saw was a tall, scrawny, black-haired boy with dark, intelligent eyes.
“Thank you,” she said softly, then leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
Val blushed, then panic set in. “Aren’t I supposed to bow or something?” he asked, looking at Otis.
“My hero, you need never bow before me,” Daughter said. “Today you earned that right, as few others have.” Then she looked stricken. This boy had little future left to him. Her eyes lifted to the doctor with an unspoken question.
“He’s responding to the antidote, My Lady. I can’t explain it, but for some reason the toxin has remained localized, and it appears to be weakening.”
“What are you saying, Doctor?”
“I believe there’s hope, My Lady. I make no promises. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
Her troubled gaze returned to Val. “What is your name, young man?”
“I’m known as Val, but I have no official name, My Lady. Just a number.”
“A number!”
“I’m an orphan. I escaped from the orphanage six years ago. Please don’t send me back.”
She turned a troubled gaze to Otis. “I’ll look into it, My Lady.” He turned to Val. “What is your number?”
“5397867A,” Val responded without hesitation. For a moment, he wished he had held back, but he sensed, rightly, that little would be held back from Daughter and Otis.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Sixteen, My Lady. Uh, am I addressing you correctly?”
“You are. Sixteen.” She looked thoughtfully to the ceiling and said softly, “The timing fits.” She looked back to Val, saying, “You left the orphanage when you were ten? How did you survive?”
“Mostly by stealing at first. I got pretty hungry. Then I met Mr. Wyzcha. Uh . . . he seems to be known by some as Sir Jarl.”
“A Knight of the Realm?”
Val stared back at her and said softly, “I think so, My Lady.” In a stronger voice, he said, “I knew him as Mr. Wyzcha. He owned me for a few years. He taught me how to beg and made sure I had plenty to eat. I bought my freedom and my begging permit from him three years later.”
“So you’re a licensed beggar?”
“I am, My Lady, but begging is no longer my main source of income. I’ve built a private business as a runner.”
“A runner?”
“I deliver things, My Lady.”
“You run, but you only have one leg. What happened to your other leg?”
“I don’t know. I have no memory of ever having had two legs. I get around fine without it, better than some with two legs.”
“Yes, I can vouch for that,” she said with pursed lips. “You moved quickly when you sensed the need. I will be forever grateful.”
His gaze hardened. “Not when you know the whole story. Sir Jarl’s death is my fault.”
She sat back slowly. Even Otis let out a low growl. “I think you’d better explain, young man,” Otis demanded. “And no lies. We’ll check out everything. I want the truth, and only the truth.”
Val, suddenly angry, fired back at him, “I might be a beggar, but Mr. Wyzcha taught me well. I live by his code. I never lie, sir. I don’t always tell everything, but I don’t lie. If I can’t say the truth, I don’t say anything.”
Otis and Daughter exchanged startled looks. Those were the exact words she used to describe herself. The Chosen could not lie, but they did not have to tell the whole truth either.
“Give us the truth, Val,” Daughter demanded softly. “What is this ‘code’ by which you live?”
“Mr. Wyzcha was an Imperial Marine. He believed that the Empire served all, and that there was no greater honor than to serve the Empire in return.”
“Those are the words of a Knight, Val.”
His eyes filled with tears, his gaze shifting between her and Otis. He wiped at his eyes and said softly, “He was just Mr. Wyzcha to me.”
“The pins you held are the real thing, Val,” Daughter said, speaking grimly. “What is going on here is not clear to me. Tell me what you know, and I ask that you hold nothing back. Lives depend on the words you are about to say.”
Val looked troubled. “I’m just a beggar, Ma’am.”
She looked unsettled, then looked like she didn’t like the feeling. She looked hard into Val’s eyes again, studying him with a whole new intensity. “I see a beggar,” she said eventually, “but I sense more in you.”
His chin thrust forward. “I’m proud of being a beggar. I won’t be on Hespra III much longer, I have a plan, but at the moment I’m a beggar, and I’m proud of it.”
“What plan?” she asked.
“I’m going to be a starship pilot, My Lady. I’ll be old enough to take the entrance exam for Fleet Academy in two years.”
“You want to be a Fleet officer? Are you at the top
of your class?”
Val hesitated. Transcripts and personal commendations were part of the entrance requirements for Fleet Academy, and they would have to be purchased illegally. He had promised not to lie, but he didn’t have to tell the whole truth either.
“I can’t go to school, My Lady. I’m a non-person. But I can study, and I’m on track. I’ll take the entrance exam in two years.”
Otis coughed into a fist. “I think you’re out of the beggar business for a while, young man. Whatever your plans are, you might have to make some adjustments.”
Val’s thoughts went instantly back to the chamber. “Is the Horlig ambassador dying?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Otis growled. He looked at the doctor. “Has the governor been appraised of the toxin?”
“He has. There has been no further word.”
“He’s innocent, you know,” Val said sadly. “It was the Corvolds who did it.”
“Well, well!” Daughter exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Let the intrigues begin. I would hear your story, Val, and I want every detail. Ship, Record.”
“Recording,” Val heard clearly.
Val closed his eyes, wishing that Mr. Wyzcha was here.
Or was he really Sir Jarl?
To Val, he was Mr. Wyzcha, the man who had pulled Val from the gutter, the man who had taught him everything that mattered, the man who had always had answers for everything, even answers to test questions that arose during his studies. Mr. Wyzcha had died in his arms, and he couldn’t get his arms around that all-important detail. Val missed him, missed him deeply.
Val was out of his depth at the moment, and he was hurting inside. On the other hand, he could not deny a command from this woman.
He looked to Otis, then lifted his eyes to Daughter. ”I was studying, getting ready for an exam, when I got the call . . .”
Chapter Forty: No Secrets
“. . . I decided it could only be through the front door,” he said, his gaze moving between Daughter, Otis, and the doctor who hovered in the background. “All the skills I’d developed as a beggar and as a runner were useless. I had to pretend to be Sir Jarl. I did, and you know the rest.”
Last of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book One) Page 38