Keeda hesitated. The rifleman remained unseen. Finally, the heat from the burning stones forced the huge Dragon to take two steps backward away from the painful surface.
“I’ve taken a blood oath,” Keeda called, but his whooping cries lacked their previous angry defiance. “He needs killing.”
A spotlight pinpointed the huge Dragon and a penetrating voice rolled across the vast underground chamber, rippling the surface of the lake and bouncing off the distant walls. “Put. The. Man. Down.”
Still, Keeda hesitated. What could they do to him? Kill him? At least, he would die with honor, and in the fulfillment of a blood oath. He hissed in angry confusion. He looked up at the man squirming in his great claw. He really wanted to throw this son of a primate into the hungry water of the chamber.
Sawyer looked up at Keeda and whispered, “I don’t think you should do it.”
Finn took a few steps closer and added his encouragement to his brother’s; he spoke on the Dragon’s own tongue. “It would dishonor your family to kill him this way—this manner of killing has neither style nor virtue.”
“I have never dishonored my family.” Keeda glowered down at the two men. He looked past them to Kask. “Ask my brother.”
“Then don’t start now,” Sawyer said. “You ask your brother.”
Keeda looked uncertainly to Sawyer and Finn, then beyond them to Kask.
Kask nodded to Keeda. While he couldn’t directly admit the accuracy of Finn’s words, still he couldn’t deny them either. “If nothing else, we must keep our honor,” he grumbled.
Still Keeda hesitated. He didn’t want to give any human a reason to think he had triumphed over a Dragon. At last, he lowered his hand so he could stare directly into Lee’s eyes. He roared at the man, “You deserve killing, and I will kill you someday. Not today, but someday I will give you a death that I can brag about. Count on it. I will not betray a blood-oath.”
“I ask of you one thing only,” said Lee, “Hold true to the largest loyalty you can. Someday, perhaps, you might give that loyalty to the Alliance of Life.”
Keeda snorted. Even in death, the man still preached treason. Incredible! He lowered Lee-1169 the rest of the way to the stone surface. He lashed his tail angrily and stamped away. Kask followed him.
Sawyer and Finn exchanged a look that revealed both fear and relief. Lee-1169 looked at them oddly. “Why did you save me?” Sawyer shrugged. Finn shook his head. Both turned away quickly to avoid showing how the moment had affected them.
Now, the lights above came up. On the high ledges and the gun emplacements surrounding the lake, the Dragon Guards stamped and shuffled impatiently; they swiveled their weapons and targeted one prisoner after another. Now, the watchers on the slender catwalks above became visible as stark black gnomes hanging directly over the islands. They appeared as gaunt and mysterious figures behind their spotlights. The beams pierced the gloomy murk, probing and searching like radiant fingers, until each one had isolated a specific prisoner on one of the stone islands. All over the chamber, the inmates began standing up, shielding their eyes, and peering fearfully up into the brooding and ominous glare.
A spectral catwalk led out to a central platform that hung high over the whole chamber. The prisoners could see a tall thin Vampire sweeping angrily to that vantage point, followed by two aides. The Vampire took up his position, leaning out over the railing to look down on his unfortunate charges. He flung back the hood that cloaked his features, and a whisper of recognition swept across the islands below. The Vampire smiled, revealing his gleaming teeth. His incisors glistened long and needle-sharp.
“d’Vashti,” said Harry to no one in particular.
Kernel Sleestak d’Vashti had a needle beam in his left hand. He glared down at Keeda with anger-reddened eyes, he pointed down at Keeda and pinned him in the glare of his beam. He shouted across the entire chamber, his voice amplified like thunder; he aimed his words at the Dragon Guards hulking in the high gun emplacements. “Pay attention! Disobedience never goes unrewarded! Failure never goes unpunished!”
d’Vashti’s beam changed color then, became a ray of crimson power—a tractor beam—Keeda struggled against the pressure, but no Dragon had the strength to resist the repulsive strength of a focused singularity field. He began slipping and sliding backward across the stone surface of the island toward the dark water beyond. He glanced once over his shoulder, grunted in dismay, and struggled harder. His huge tail lashed furiously back and forth, but the deadly beam kept pressing him ever closer to the water. At last, he could resist no longer. Waving his arms helplessly, he toppled backward into the murky wet stink.
The water boiled around him. It turned red. It frothed. The Dragon struggled, screaming, surfaced once, scrabbling at the edge of the island—for a moment, he looked futilely into his brother’s eyes, then he slid back and disappeared forever. After a moment, the surface of the lake became still again.
Kask stood rigid, horrified. He trembled like a thing possessed. The words came unbidden to his lips. “Keeda did not deserve such a dishonorable death.” Fortunately, he spoke this thought too softly for d’Vashti to hear—or the Vampire would have sent him quickly to join his brother.
Now, d’Vashti glowered around the chamber like an avenging demon. His beam regained its harmless color and began searching through the prisoners, focusing d’Vashti’s attention first here, then here, and finally here. The inmates cowered under his terrible gaze. “We will now proceed with the process of selection.”
A groan rose up among the poor creatures on the stone islands. From a hundred throats, it came—a multitude of voices, united in a sad chorus of despair. Sawyer and Finn exchanged a worried glance.
“Selection?”
“I don’t want to know.”
A series of ramps came rising up out of the water, bringing rank sewage and dead things with them. Like the spokes of a wheel, they connected all of the islands to an ominous platform at the edge of the lake framed by an ornate curved proscenium. A dark door dilated open in the depths of the arch, revealing a deep crimson glow beyond.
From his vantage above, d’Vashti began picking out prisoners, directing them across the spokes and through the glowing door. His selections included all of the bioform and chimera species, none of the humans. Picking their way carefully to avoid stepping on the most distasteful of the objects left on the still-wet ramps, the varied creatures crossed over to the narrow shelf of stone. They looked uncomfortable and afraid. d’Vashti selected Ota with an offhand gesture, and the LIX bioform followed the others with resignation. It disappeared after them into the red gloom.
Of all the non-human prisoners, only Kask remained unselected. He stood alone, wondering if he should call d’Vashti’s attention to his existence, or if wisdom dictated silence. Remembering Keeda, he opted for silence.
The dark door closed and the ramps sank quietly back into the dank and brackish water. As they did, a new set of stone walkways rose up; these ramps stretched between the various islands. They locked into place and d’Vashti began pointing again, directing various prisoners from one disk to another, sorting them into groups by some criterion known only to himself.
He pointed and pointed and pointed again. “You—cross to that platform. You—stay there. You—cross over.”
On the central platform, one prisoner dropped to his knees, weeping. He lifted his arms up to d’Vashti, wailing for mercy and forgiveness, but d’Vashti had already moved on. He strode out onto the catwalks to call down to specific prisoners—again and again, his beam stabbed and selected. The other prisoners moved nervously away from the one who still wept alone and forgotten.
d’Vashti stopped as if he had suddenly remembered something. He looked back at the pitiful man and appeared to consider his plight. “I’ve reconsidered,” he said calmly. “You may stay there.” Using the slender catwalks like a spider web, he circled around the chamber, once again rearranging his choices, ignoring the grateful slobbering tha
nks of the man he had seemingly spared.
Shortly, Sawyer, Finn, Lee-169, Kask, and Justice Harry Mertz all found themselves assigned to the same stone island. They crossed to it and stood around uncomfortably looking at each other. What happens now? None of them had either speculation or comment on their situation.
Sawyer whispered to Finn, “How bad do you think it will get?”
Finn whispered back, “Very bad.”
“Oh, good.”
“Good?” Finn raised his eyebrow at his brother.
“I guessed right.”
Above, the selection process appeared to have stopped. d’Vashti made one last circuit of the webwork, prowling and peering until he felt satisfied. He moved two more prisoners, telling them to swap their places on different islands. He smiled as he watched them cross, first one, then the other.
At last, he straightened. As the prisoners watched in fear, d’Vashti gave a signal to someone unseen, then turned his attention downward again.
Several of the stone islands began to sink away under the prisoners—including the central platform, still bearing the man who had begged so pitiably for his life. The waters began sweeping up and over the edges. The prisoners on them danced and hopped from one foot to the other. Some of them dived into the water and tried to swim—the water frothed around them—others died where they stood. The pitiful man rose to his feet and screamed enraged curses at d’Vashti. “You betrayer of souls! May you fall into the night forever! I hope that your dying lasts for the rest of your life.” He continued cursing even as the things in the water pulled him down and away, even as he flailed against them, until his final words dissolved into a desperate gurgling rattle.
The dank waters continued to froth and bubble and rage; it seemed as if the horror would never end. d’Vashti watched without comment. When the water at last became silent again, he straightened up and gave an order to the Captain of the Dragon Guard. “Send the rest of them to trial.”
And then he exited. The darkness wrapped itself around him, and then floated down like a blanket to smother the remaining prisoners as well.
In the gloom, Kask began to wail in despair—a series of long low whoops of grief and dismay over the death of his brother. The sound had a horrendous quality. It rolled out through the stench-ridden air, bounced off the walls, and left the nerves of all who heard it raw and quivering.
The Court of Blood
A crowd of several hundred had gathered for the day’s proceedings, filling the Imperial chambers and spilling out into the corridors beyond. Rumors had circulated all over the city about the petitions before the court, and the many Lords and their fewer Ladies, had arrived in their best finery to make a day of it. Because of the great number of Vampires in attendance, the representation of the lesser races had visibly diminished. Nevertheless, the chatter of excited curiosity-seekers filled the ornate-paneled room. Delicately carved screens separated the various court areas. Crimson trim illuminated the pale velvet panels on the walls. Tiny ornate figures peered down from the cornices above—the little gargoyles concealed a battery of recording devices, not to mention an additional battery of assorted weaponry. Just in case.
Sitting in the dock, Sawyer nudged his brother. “You can almost smell the blood-lust.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like an elephant booger. Green and slimy. Leave me alone.”
Abruptly, the murmur of excitement rose. A magnificently clad Herald had entered the room. He wore a stiff red square tunic with the Imperial shield emblazoned on the front of it in evanescent gold. A flutter of gasps came from the audience; both the men and the women reacted visibly to the beauty of this young Phaestor. He stepped up onto his perch and the crowd began quieting. The buzz of speculation, hovering above the room like a swarm of lies, diminished quickly as all the various liars and lawyers came to attention.
“By the special appointment of Lady Zillabar,” the Herald announced in a voice like a violin, “Lord Drydel will now hear all outstanding matters before the Regency.” The last few whispers faded away.
Lord Drydel entered then, and took his place behind the high desk at the front of the court. Lady Zillabar entered quietly at the side of the room and settled herself in a curtained reviewing box. Drydel could see her; almost no one else could. He settled himself and began organizing his papers. He had extensive notes on the podium in front of him. Plus, he had a screen that relayed Lady Zillabar’s thoughts as well.
In the dock, among others, sat an Imperial warrior-lizard named Kask, a traitor named Lee-1169, former High Justice Harry Mertz, a scraggly tracker named Sawyer Markham, and his equally disreputable-looking brother Finn Markham. Drydel noted with interest that Finn Markham did not look well.
Lord Drydel spent a few moments poring over the various petitions in front of him, before deciding to get the nastiest one out of the way first. He handed it to the Bailiff who logged it and handed it to the Herald. The Herald stepped up onto his podium and called, “Lord Drydel will now hear the matter of Star-Captain Neena Linn-Campbell and her special petition seeking redress in the matter of an appropriated LIX-class bioform.”
Captain Campbell stepped boldly forward. She wore a black uniform and a black travelling cape. Behind her came a husky-looking female android and a sullen-faced high-gravity dwarf. All three took their places at the bar and waited respectfully.
Drydel laid the petition aside and studied the Star-Captain with curiosity. He didn’t see many human women on Thoska-Roole.33 He assumed that other humans might admire her presumption in dressing like a Phaestor aristocrat; himself, he found it arrogant and offensive. No matter. He would decide this case on its merits alone—as he always did.
He waved a hand languidly toward the human woman. “Do you wish to address this issue?”
“My Lord—” She acknowledged his rank with a curt nod. “Agents of the Customs and Immigration Authority boarded my landing shuttle and performed an illegal search. They seized the person of my first officer, a LIX-class bioform. The Authority maintains that the bioform had no license for this world; but the bioform never left the confines of the shuttlecraft, and therefore never left the legal territory of my vessel, The Lady MacBeth. Therefore the officers had no right to seize the creature. I demand its immediate return. You have copies of my guardianship papers attached to the petition.”
Lord Drydel exchanged a smile with Lady Zillabar, then looked back to the arrogant Star-Captain. “This court has read and studied your petition. We acknowledge that the officers of the Immigration Authority acted with impropriety and we have issued a stern warning to them that such flagrant disobedience of the law has no place in a civilized society. However, as we have studied this matter in some detail, we must also find that the guardianship papers of this bioform have no validity in a Regency court—”
Captain Campbell’s expression hardened with sudden fury. She looked like she wanted to say a good deal more, but she prudently held her silence. Lord Drydel looked down from the bench at her with a deliberate smile, then continued.
“—due to the direct and immediate failure of Captain Campbell to secure appropriate licensing and registration from the offices of the Confluence of Bioform Management. Therefore, the Regency denies your claim of proprietorship.” It pleased Drydel to see the Star-Captain’s suppressed rage. He would enjoy the next part immensely. “The Regency has accepted custody of the LIX bioform, designate Ota. We have already transported the beast to a detainment center for reassignment. Next case—”
“I challenge this appropriation.” Neena Linn-Campbell interrupted. “By what authority does the Regency assume custody of my personal servant?”
Drydel maintained his cold smile. “Perhaps you remain unaware of the reconstruction of authority that has occurred here. Because of the very real possibility for civil unrest, the Regency has had to assume full custody of all unlicensed, unsecured bioform entities on Thoska-
Roole. The order became effective last night.”
“Excuse me, m’Lord—?” The interruption startled Drydel. For a brief instant, he had no idea who had spoken. Then he recognized the voice and refocused his attention. Justice Harry Mertz had stood up in the dock to speak. Now, he added, “I advised you last night that such an order would have no merit under the law. You leave me no choice, but to speak now and declare that order illegal.”
A murmur of consternation swept through the court. Drydel tapped at the bell on his desk again and again until silence returned to the bright paneled chamber.
Drydel knew better than to declare Mertz out of order. In fact, he had planned on having Mertz in the courtroom for precisely this declaration. The fat fool’s interruption had come at the perfect moment. Almost everyone in the room recognized High Justice Harry Mertz, but for the record, Drydel asked, “Sir, would you please make yourself known to this court?”
“I go by the name of Harry Mertz. I hold the office of Arbiter of Thoska-Roole. I admit, that my placement here in the dock instead of in the advisory box, appears unusual—but considering the current state of affairs, I cannot think of any place more appropriate for me to sit. Nevertheless, my dear Lord Drydel, I speak to you as a friend of the court, as mandated by my office. And I repeat, I hereby declare this order illegal under the charter of the Regency under the rule of which all sentient species share equal privileges and equal responsibilities under the law.”
Drydel glanced quickly to Lady Zillabar for direction. She shook her head curtly. Drydel nodded his agreement.
“An interesting position, Citizen Mertz,” Drydel replied slowly. He hesitated while he selected his next words with care. “But you have presumed an authority which you do not have. You yourself, in fact, have acknowledged that the office of Arbiter exists only as an honorary position.”
Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but Drydel held up one exquisitely manicured hand to stop him. “Additionally, Citizen Mertz, I must point out that even if this court could recognize your office, your arguments would still carry no legal merit.” Drydel looked through the papers on his desk. He found the one he wanted and touched it with an extended index finger. He slid it away from the others, licked his lips as he read it. “In order to secure domestic tranquility here on Thoska-Roole, and to ease the process of determining the fair and equitable allocation of personal and property rights in the courts of the world, the Regency authorities have had to reconstruct the definition of sentience. We recognize that certain other classes of artificial entities, have substantial cognitive and language skills and that these skills represent a significant simulation of consciousness. Nevertheless—” Drydel glanced smugly across the ornate courtroom. “—Nevertheless, the true quality of sentience lies not only in an entity’s ability to communicate rationally, but in the much larger domain of personal responsibility; and in that regard, we do not mean the small responsibilities of personal survival, but the much larger obligations and commitments that one has toward one’s family, one’s society, and even for the survival and success of the communities of all sentients as expressed in the Regency Charter. By that definition, we have no choice but to find that certain classes of creature do not qualify as sentient—”
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