"I'm happy it pleases you."
"Did this river once flow on the surface?"
"Perhaps.” He smiled, but his eyes were solemn.
Anneliese pulled herself onto the mossy bank. She felt as if she were dreaming. Burdens sloughed away like droplets from her shoulders. She dangled her feet into the water.
"I could stay here forever,” she said.
"The air is too thick.” Sayer-Kihn sat beside her.
She was aware of the nearness of his body, and she held very still as if she might frighten him away. She had no business being attracted to him, she reminded herself. Quietly, she asked, “What made you come after me?"
"Ente saw you leave. I think she expected me to call the guards and have you apprehended instead of searching for you myself."
Anneliese stole a glance. “She loves you."
He looked away. “It will pass."
Paddling her feet in the rushing current, Anneliese felt another worry roll slowly away. She watched the falling water, tasted its spray upon her face.
She said, “This is where it started for you, isn't it? Being a chiliarch, I mean."
He paused before answering. “Yes, it was here. Both my end and my beginning. For days afterward, I would stare into this water and wonder how they could believe I could help anyone."
"You helped me, saved me from Sivlow-Rakin."
Sayer shook his head. “I must confess to you, Anneliese-Thielman. When I found you in Sivlow-Rakin's custody, I was overjoyed. Since the day I saw you in the spaceport, I have thought of little else. Against my daughter's counsel, I would go to the marketplace in hope of seeing you."
An icy grip clenched Anneliese's stomach. “Did you see me in the ... in the..."
He looked at her. “If I had, I would have torn the cage apart with my bare hands. I love you, Anneliese."
She pulled away. “You can't. You don't know me, the things I have done."
"I know you better, I think, than you know yourself.” He ran his fingers along her jaw, the back her neck. “You see only the outside."
Anneliese closed her eyes, overwhelmed with shame and longing.
Sayer pulled her into his embrace. His arms were warm about her, his breath in her ear. He kissed her cheek, her brow, his hands cupping her face, caressing her as if she were a fragile bloom.
She looked into his golden eyes, saw his happiness, his pain—and knew suddenly that this man was hers to hold, to keep, and the enormity of it stunned her.
Lifting her lips, she opened to him, gasping slightly as his mouth closed over her own. Her body liquefied, her senses flying, drawing her higher. Higher. Someone called his name.
Sayer pulled away. Anneliese blinked, glancing back at the cavern. People stormed toward them—ten, perhaps twenty Llaird. Wathe-Taln was in the forefront. And Ente....
"What's happening?” asked Anneliese.
The chiliarch got to his feet, standing to face them, and their voices rose as if in challenge. Taln stepped forward, his gaze dark and defiant.
Anneliese sat upon the pond bank, hair dripping down her forehead, one arm crossed over her breasts. She listened to their strident exchange, then recognized the word Rafa-Ja and realized with a start they spoke of her.
"Wathe, you are a fool!” Sayer-Kihn's voice shook with fury. “At least have the courtesy to accuse her in her own tongue."
"Fool, am I? While you lie here at her mercy? Very well. Anneliese-Thielman, you are found to be a spy and assassin for the Resort Debauch."
Her stomach fell and her eyes widened. “But, I..."
"That's absurd,” said Sayer.
"Then why has she attempted to leave the barrow so soon after witnessing our plans?"
Anneliese looked up at Sayer, pleading. “I wanted to save you."
Emotions warred across his face. Hands fell upon her.
"Sayer, please!” she cried.
Sayer-Kihn moved close to Wathe-Taln. “What will you do now, my friend? Will you bleed her to death before the sacred pool?"
Taln sneered. “No. She will be executed as a traitor. Take her to the Chambers."
CHAPTER 36
Mortar's voice boomed through the confines of the spaceport. “Do you have it?” he asked.
Climbing from the shuttle's side, Gordon Rathbone said, “I brought everything you requested. But, I don't understand...."
Mortar took the case from Gordon's grasp, laying it flat upon the still crackling surface of the shuttle's underfin. Inside the case, he found a Lyncean spectrograph and an Internet link.
He snapped it shut. “Excellent."
"Mortar, what do you hope to find?"
"Evidence,” Mortar said. “Anything that will prove Anneliese is still alive."
He stepped through the shadows between the berthed ships. The fumes of hydyne fuel stung his throat. Ahead, Mortar saw the portsmith's office.
The jowl-faced smith looked up as they entered. Mortar nodded curtly, moving along a narrow aisle, glancing about. Stacked crates and upturned boxes lined the walls. Packing fettle littered the floor. A layer of grime covered everything—the exhaust of a thousand ships—as if the office were rarely cleaned. So much the better, Mortar thought.
"I wish to question you further about your reported assault by two children,” Mortar said, and then added, “I am assisting Deputy Master Abbas."
The portsmith relaxed visibly. “I thought I'd seen you before."
"Can you describe these children—their coloring, their height, what they wore?"
"They wore what children wear.” The man snorted. “And why doesn't Abbas see me himself? Does he fear to face me after ignoring my complaints these many days?"
Mortar leaned toward him over the desk, careful not to touch anything. “The deputy is busy, as you might understand. Now, will you answer my questions, or shall I tell him that you've dropped all charges?"
His eyes sparked. “I'll answer your blessed questions."
"Tell me in detail exactly what happened. I want you to remember everything. Keep in mind that all you say will be recorded on data chit.” Mortar nodded at Gordon.
The portsmith sighed. “I was at my desk, like so, when I noticed movement outside. At first, I thought it was a patron. But as I stood to offer assistance, I saw the robes. A city dweller.” He nodded, one brow cocked. “I kicked open the door, hoping to gain the advantage, when I realized it was a small boy. So I grabbed him by the hair and shook for his attention."
"You wished to harm the boy?"
"Of course not. I planned to turn him over to the authorities for proper execution."
"Would you recognize this child again if you saw him?"
The jowl-faced man shook his head. “I don't think so. He wore goggles."
"I see. Continue."
"So I have him in my grasp when, what would you know, another one steps up from behind, hits me in the head with a Starfire nozzle."
Mortar's heart leapt. “May I see that nozzle?"
"It was ruined. I threw it away."
"And did this second child also wear goggles?"
"Yes ... no!” The portsmith screwed up his face. “The goggles were pulled down below the chin. And the eyes were gray—perhaps blue. A blessed off-worlder! What would you know!"
Mortar fought to keep his hands from shaking. He glanced behind, and Gordon nodded that he had recorded the information.
But information wasn't enough—they needed proof.
He removed the spectrograph from the case, attached the adjustable bolo. “I assume your prints are on record with the Resort?"
The man eyed him warily. “What are you doing?"
"Scanning for fingerprints. Please continue your story."
"Not much more to tell. I blacked out and when I came to, they were both in here, accessing my computer. Like spies, knowing what they were doing."
"Standing or sitting?” Mortar asked.
"Standing, I think. Right here."
Mortar ran th
e spectrograph slowly over the console, bathing the keyboard in purple-blue light. He lifted several clear prints and, linking into the Internet, identified them as belonging to the portsmith. A list of prior infractions scrolled across the face and he commanded the computer to disregard.
"Do you know which files they accessed?” Mortar asked, still working.
Scowling, the smith said, “They were into my personal files."
Mortar glanced up. “You keep records on every patron?"
"It's a boring job—I have to liven it up somehow."
Why would Anneliese open the portsmith's files? What was she looking for? Again, Mortar drew the spectrograph across the monitor. He was aware of the smith's stare, aware of Gordon's impatience.
But he couldn't give up. Anneliese had been there. He knew it.
"Can you tell me anything more?” Mortar asked.
"Nothing,” said the portsmith.
Mortar slid the instrument along the edge of the desktop.
And there, glowing faintly, was an entire handprint. It was small enough to belong to a child.
Mortar held his breath. Seconds stretched as he sent the print through the Net. A prayer floated from the recesses of his mind. And still he was amazed as the ‘graph flashed positive ID. Anneliese Thielman.
CHAPTER 37
Anneliese paced her stone cell. Her heart pounded. Glancing toward the tunnel, she saw guards to either side of the doorway. Waiting to execute her, she thought.
Panic swelled in her throat. She balled her fists in her hair. What was she going to do?
Suddenly, Sayer stepped into the room. She rushed into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his arms upon her chilled skin, reminding her of her damp clothing, her swim just a few hours ago. Tears filled her eyes and she winced against them.
"Do you believe them?” she asked. “Do you believe I would betray you?"
"No,” he said, “of course, not."
"Well, you should.” She pushed him away, walking across her cell, wrapping her arms about her chest. “The Llaird are marching toward obliteration. All that they've worked for—all the artwork, and the gardens, and dreams—everything will be gone. I thought I could stop that. I thought I could help.” She turned, pressing her back against the wall. “But I'm worthless. I have nothing to offer you or your people. Everything I was, everything I had is lost."
He stepped forward, touching his fingers to her lips. “There is a bedtime story that has been passed through generations—the tale of a bird that leads the children to light. It is the story of hope, the prophecy of a stranger who holds knowledge that we lack. I believe you to be part of this prophecy."
"And in this bedtime story, was the bird executed?"
He smiled. “They will not go that far, I am certain of it. Just face Ente's accusations calmly, let them see you as I see you. Follow the path."
Her lip trembled. “I'm afraid."
"There is something special within you, Anneliese. A strength that is yet untested. I believe if you had to you could do anything."
Anneliese looked up into Sayer-Kihn's eyes. Then she heard Ente's voice. Guards burst into the room, taking hold of Anneliese's arms, pulling her away.
"Sayer,” Anneliese cried.
The chiliarch bowed his head.
The guards rushed Anneliese down a short hall and into the Chambers. She saw the glow of the lighted pit, the moiru dancers upon their pedestals, still searching for enlightenment. She saw Ente and Wathe-Taln, heard the Llaird filing into the huge amphitheatre.
She felt weak with fright, and for a moment, she sagged against the hands that bound her. Then Wathe-Taln approached and she lifted her chin.
"You might have at least allowed me my robe instead of forcing me here half naked,” she said.
Taln lifted his lip in a snarl. He grabbed her roughly away from the guards and pulled her to stand at the edge of the gravel where the light shone into her face. He stood behind her, his fingers sinking into her arms, forcing her to face the Llaird.
Anneliese clenched her teeth. She stared through the glare at the darkened tiers of onlookers, wondering if Pilar were among them. How would it affect him to see her die? Would he remember his sister?
Then Ente entered the spotlight. She regarded Anneliese with a gaze that spoke of righteous outrage—but as she moved to stand beside her, a hardened smile crossed her lips.
Anneliese imagined how the spurned woman had felt to find her in Sayer's arms. Her voice cracked. “Ente, please."
Ente turned her back. Facing the barrow, the woman raised her voice in a strident litany. Anneliese twisted about, searching for Sayer-Kihn, but Taln held her fast, blocking her view.
Again, Ente approached Anneliese. She spat out a stream of consonants, her yellow eyes narrowing into glowing slits. Reaching into the sash of her robe, she pulled out a knife.
A murmur rounded the amphitheater. Anneliese's knees buckled. She wanted to tell them about the Resort's capacity for revenge, wanted to warn them of the danger. But the Llaird weren't interested in truths or logic, she knew. They believed in mystics.
Ente held the knife in the air, circling the pit where Anneliese stood, then dropped the weapon onto the glowing stones. It lay black upon the surface, marring the light.
Anneliese struggled against the unwavering grip of Wathe-Taln. “Why did she drop the knife?” she whispered. “I thought you planned to slit my throat before your people."
"With this one gesture she denounces you. She says you are not worth sullying her blade. But have no hope of reprieve, Rafa-Ja. You will be poisoned to death as a traitor."
Poisoned. Anneliese swallowed a lump in her throat. The air pulsed with the chiming din of the moiru. Ente lowered her head, stepping backwards into shadow.
Then Anneliese saw Sayer-Kihn. He stood at the farthest reaches of the light, looking not at her but at the rows of Llaird in attendance. His face was calm, his hands clasped behind his back.
A sob escaped Anneliese. Stand beside me, her mind cried. Tell them I was trying to save the barrow. But the chiliarch made no move in her defense.
He had abandoned her.
Despair stole her breath, a fist crushing her chest. She shook her head. No, she could not believe that of him. Then Sayer turned his eyes toward her.
And in the back of her mind, Anneliese heard him say, I believe if you had to you could do anything.
Follow the path.
Suddenly the air rang with bells. The soothsayer entered the Chambers.
Anneliese felt her legs tremble and she steeled herself against them. With more bravado than she felt, she said, “Will she tell my fortune before you murder me?"
Taln's fingers tightened like metal bands about her arms. “Do not mock our ways,” he hissed in her ear. “She will read to you as you die, so that you may know to which of the nether regions your spirit will be drawn. It is meant as a comfort."
"How thoughtful,” she said.
Duessa-Kimmer crossed the stage. Dressed in her shimmering onyx robes, the dark woman swept her arms, playing to the audience. Anneliese felt the weight of the woman's penetrating gaze. She looked at the knife's shadow upon the stones, avoiding the soothsayer's eyes.
In stilted Standard, Duessa-Kimmer said, “Now is the time for you to refute the accusations."
Words clamored up Anneliese's throat and she swallowed them back down. Slowly lifting her eyes to the soothsayer's face, she said, “The path is laid, Duessa."
The woman shied back, clearly disconcerted, and Anneliese smiled in spite of herself. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sayer's stunned face, saw him take a step forward, restrained by one of the guards.
Just then, the moiru dancers stopped. They stood, chests heaving, staring blankly ahead, the cessation of their costumes falling to silence.
Anneliese said, “Release me, Wathe. Let me face this on my own."
She felt his hesitation.
"If you run, I will cut you down,” he whispered, d
ropping his hands.
Anneliese stepped into the center of the pit. She imagined light streaming around her, exposing her slight form, her damp and clinging undergarments. Spreading her arms as the speakers had done, she opened herself to the scrutiny of the barrow. She made a show of running her gaze over the shadowed tiers, gathering the people with her eyes. Then she looked toward the dark woman.
Duessa-Kimmer lowered her head. She held her heavily lidded eyes half-opened, as if seeking a trance. A boy offered the seer a small stone bowl, and she took it ceremoniously, holding it toward the ceiling.
Anneliese watched with trepidation. The soothsayer took the merest sip from the bowl and handed it back to the boy ... who then offered it to Anneliese. With trembling hands, Anneliese accepted the stone vessel. The liquid was thick as gruel, not like the tea served at the Resort.
"Is this the poison?” she asked.
Taln's voice came behind her. “It is poison most foul. It will heighten your senses, and then burst your heart."
Anneliese wavered beneath a surge of doubt. It was just tea, she promised herself, brewed strong and potent but tea nonetheless. She remembered staining her skin with the moss, remembered Surah telling her she might have died of heart failure. Only the anointed dare drink, Myetrae once said.
But she was one of the anointed.
Taln whispered, “Drink or I will slay you where you stand."
Anneliese's heart raced. She stared into her fear. Then, lifting the bowl as she had seen done before, she drank the tea. The gruel was bitter yet familiar. It burned as it coursed down her throat. Anneliese tilted back, drinking the poison to the last drop.
A gasp shook the amphitheatre, and she realized she was expected to take only a mouthful, not finish the bowl. Anneliese gazed toward the onlookers. For good measure, she licked her lips ... then winced as a spasm seized her stomach. She looked at the bowl in her hand, considered smashing it against the gravel floor or hurling it defiantly into the crowd.
Before her, the boy watched avidly. She smiled then walked past him, handing the empty bowl to Duessa-Kimmer.
Caught off-guard, the esteemed woman actually accepted it. Anneliese wanted to laugh. Heat rushed over her, and she felt her lungs would burst.
Resort Debauch Page 22