The rebels were pressed into individual niches in the wall just behind the bridge landing. They saw and heard the exchange between Greven and Eladamri.
"What is that place?" asked Sivi.
"A prison, I assume," Teynel said. "It's isolated from the rest of the fortress."
"How do we get in?"
"We don't. We're following Eladamri's original plan. Sivi, you take half the men and look for Predator. I'll lead the rest and search where you don't. Take no action when you do find it- we need to make sure of the one attack we'll get. We'll tendezvous in four intervals at the entrance to the big hall we saw. Then we all go back to the airship and finish it once and for all."
Sivi stepped out of her niche and tapped the shoulders of four of the rebels. Wordlessly they peeled off and followed her. Teynel watched her take her squad up a spiral staircase. Teynel signaled the remaining rebels to follow him. Since Sivi chose to go higher in the Citadel, they would search low.
*****
She could still feel the pressure of his hand around her throat.
What was it that drove this total stranger to attack her in full view of the assembled court? Belbe sat sideways in the throne of Rath and tried to answer the question logically. He called her an abomination, a lie. Both implied representations of truth that were actually false. How was she false? She was who she was, made on the Fourth Sphere of Phyrexia for this exact mission. Did she resemble someone known to Eladamri? She rejected the idea as too absurd.
If that was true, who was Avila?
Belbe shook her head. It throbbed a little where Eladamri had dashed it against the floor. She didn't have enough information to answer her questions. The only place she could get more was from Eladamri.
The convocation room was empty. All that remained were the flags, Eladamri's manacles, and Belbe. She picked up the heavy chains. By now the rebel leader was beginning his interrogation. She remembered what Ertai looked like after Greven was done with him. A sour taste spread up her throat. No doubt Eladamri was tougher than Ertai, but the thought of him being burned and beaten by Greven's moggs made her ill. It was easy enough to send him there when he'd just tried to throttle her. She regretted it now. There'd been enough violence in this place-too much. She was sick of it. If she had authority to stop it, it was high time she exercised it.
Belbe hurried from the hall, still gripping the manacles. She'd had enough of Crovax's bullying, too. He'd humiliated her in the past, but this last time was in public, and she wouldn't stand for any more. If Greven would back her up, she was willing to name Ertai as the next Evincar of Rath.
Crovax wouldn't take it lying down, but she had a few surprises for him. Among the equipment sent with her from Phyrexia was a case of special weapons. She was supposed to supply these weapons to the new evincar, but she had a better use for them. Her masters might not approve, but she had already gone too far down the road of resistance to feel fainthearted. With Ertai at her side, she'd free Greven from his control rod, and together the three of them would destroy Crovax and establish Rath as a sovereign world, no longer the puppet of Phyrexia or a threat to Dominaria. And possibly, if Eladamri were amenable, he could have a post in her new order, too.
The flowbot lift carried her swiftly to the evincar's quarters. When she arrived in the outer chamber, the room was dark. Belbe asked for light, but nothing happened. Annoyed, she climbed the stairs and entered the statuary room. There, lamps blazed brightly.
She stopped short. Something was amiss. Nothing in the room was disturbed, but she avoided the usual path through the statues, preferring to hug the wall instead. The Phyrexian crates were where she'd left them, seals intact. She pressed her thumb into the shallow depression on the back of the seal, and it opened with a click.
Nestled in the crate were two identical weapons-plasma energy dischargers. They were shoulder arms, like crossbows, but instead of a steel bow at a right angle to the stock, there was a long metal casing ending with two sharp metal points pointing forward. Dischargers used a single powerstone. Six were stored in the crate. These stones were so strongly charged they couldn't be loaded bare-handed. She picked up an L-shaped loading tool, pressed it against one of the powerstones, and inserted it into the slot on the underside of the weapon. A row of green and red jewels on top of the discharger began to glow. The weapon was armed.
Cradling the Phyrexian weapon under her arm, Belbe hurried to the lift. She was halfway across the statuary room when she heard a tinny whistling.
Belbe swung the discharger around, aiming the double points in the direction of the sound. The little tune repeated.
"Come out, or I'll use this!" she said. The whistler's reply was mockingly the same.
Her thumb pressed against a smooth pad on the rear of the metal housing. There was a flash like lightning, an earsplitting crack, and one of Volrath's statues was blasted in two. The tune ceased.
"Our masters make impressive weapons, don't they?"
Crovax was close behind her-too close. She tried to bring the heavy discharger to bear, but he tore it from her hands before she could get it leveled, Belbe leaped at him, trying to snatch the weapon back. Crovax casually punched her on the jaw. She flew backward against a statue of a crouching youth. By the time Belbe shook off the blow, the tips of the discharger were an inch from her face.
"You have an extraordinarily hard head, but I suspect this device can deal with that," said Crovax.
"At this range you'll vaporize my skull," Belbe said.
"Really?" Crovax caressed the weapon admiringly.
Belbe waited for the flash and the oblivion to follow. Crovax raised the tips to the ceiling. "Get up."
He went to the door. Men filed in from the darkened staircase. She recognized them as the Corps of Sergeants. Two of them bore a third man between them, hands tied and mouth gagged: Ertai.
Their eyes met. Belbe made a half step in his direction but froze when Sergeant Valmoral pressed the edge of his knife to Ertai's jugular.
She forced herself to be calm. "Now what?"
"This is a coup," Crovax replied matter-of-factly. "As of this moment, I am taking over the rule of Rath. You will name me evincar in front of these witnesses. Now."
"And if I don't?"
"Sergeant Valmoral will bleed the boy dry."
Belbe folded her arms. "So do it. I'll not be coerced."
Crovax shrugged and nodded. Valmoral drew his knife back to add force to the cut. Ertai's eyes widened, then he squeezed them shut. Down came the stroke of the blade.
Under her arm, Belbe had secreted a broken piece of the statue she'd fallen against. It was a young man's hand-a slender, elegant hand, fingers gathered in, touching the finely carved thumb. Made of flowstone, it weight about a pound. She whipped this at Valmoral with all the speed and power she possessed. It hit him on the forehead just before the stroke of his knife laid open Ertai's throat.
The room erupted. Ertai swung his bound hands at the nearest man, catching him in the gut. Belbe whirled and sprang at Crovax. He pointed the Phyrexian weapon at her, but nothing happened. Alarmed, he dropped it, and the flowstone statue of an androgynous nude between him and Belbe came to life at his command. Belbe tried to dodge it, but the statue caught her around the waist and flung her back. Two sergeants moved in. They wore helmets and breastplates but were armed only with knives. Belbe got a foot against the moving statue and heaved it away. The first man slashed at her. She caught his arm and broke it like a twig. He howled and dropped his blade. She twisted his arm behind him, spinning him around, and shoved him against his oncoming comrades.
The floor crept up around her ankles and hardened. Belbe dodged one soldier, knelt, and hammered the flowstone with her fist. The material around her right foot splintered, freeing it. She promptly used it to kick one of her attackers in the chest. His cuirass indented three inches from the blow. She felt the ribs behind the armor crack, and the man went down.
A knife point raked across the bridge of
her nose. This one was going for her eyes! Enraged, Belbe brought her hand across to ward off another attack. The sergeant drove his knife right through the palm of her hand. She blocked the pain and closed her fingers around his knife, crushing every bone in his hand. He groaned and fell to his knees. Belbe slid her impaled hand off the knife blade and delivered a reverse kick to the back of the man's skull. There was a crunch of bone, and he pitched forward. The man was dead before his head hit the floor.
All of a sudden the fight was over. Belbe had disposed of four attackers. Her left foot was trapped in a thick block of flowstone, and glistening oil was leaking from the hole in her hand. Crovax and the rest of the sergeants withdrew beyond her reach.
Ertai, arms and legs stretched wide, was being held by two of Volrath's statues, animated for the task by Crovax. His shirt was torn open, and a bright red slash crossed his chest. Valmoral, an ugly gash on his head, had cut Ertai once and was poised to do so again.
"Finish him," Crovax ordered.
"No!" said Belbe. "Don't hurt him."
"You see," Crovax said to his surviving men. "Love conquers after all."
Two statues seized Belbe by the hands and feet, spreadeagling her off the floor like Ertai. Crovax found the discharger and picked his way over the fallen men and toppled statues to Belbe.
"You're quite formidable. The overlords built you well," he said.
"I'll be sure to relay your compliments," she replied, panting.
He held up the discharger. "Why wouldn't this work for me?"
"The mechanism is protected. It will function only if I use it," she lied.
Crovax tossed the exotic weapon aside. "Too bad. A splendidly destructive device."
He closely examined her wounded hand. "Not blood?"
Belbe shook her head.
"Interesting." Crovax sniffed the glistening oil and without warning licked the thin black liquid oozing from the wound. Belbe strained against the statues' grip. The one holding her wounded hand softened its hold, just for a second. It was enough. Belbe's open palm connected with Crovax's cheek and sent him sprawling.
Nasser and some of his men started toward him. Crovax got to his knees and stopped them with a blood-chilling glare.
"No one moves!" he hissed.
"Why not release me and make it a fair fight?" Belbe taunted, waving her free hand.
Crovax caught her hand in his, and they wrestled for a few seconds.
"Why do you imagine combat has to be fair?" he gasped.
He backhanded her across the face twice. Belbe's eyes filmed with gray until she shut out that pain as well. Crovax was plainly surprised when she took his blows and grimly smiled at him.
"You are the strongest," Belbe said. "There's no point resisting the inevitable. I will name you evincar."
All fell silent.
Ertai chewed through his gag and spat out the wad of cloth, croaking, "Belbe, no!"
"You heard her!" Crovax cried, pointing a finger at the assembled sergeants. "She said it!"
"I said it, and I mean it," Belbe said. "But it's not official until I proclaim you governor before the overlords on Phyrexia."
"How can you do that? Do I have to travel to Phyrexia?"
"No, I must declare you evincar before the open Window." She meant the voice-only message portal in the convocation hall.
Crovax stood back. The statues released Belbe and Ertai. "I give you this much grace, as you are the emissary and a redoubtable fighter," he said. "Summon the court to the Window and proclaim me evincar to everyone."
Belbe rubbed her battered hand. "I will. Tomorrow."
"Why not now?"
"It's late," she said. "We can do this in haste, or we can install you with all grave and proper ceremony. It's up to you. There's also the matter of Eladamri."
"What's he got to do with it?"
"Wouldn't you like to have him at your feet, in chains, when I name you to the throne? Everything in the hall will be seen on
Phyrexia, you know. Wouldn't you like to impress the overlords by presenting them with the defeated leader of the rebels?" She saw the glimmer of vanity in his eyes.
Crovax nodded with satisfaction. "I still don't see why we can't do it sooner," he said.
"Give Greven the night to break him," Belbe said coolly. "You wouldn't have him shout rebel slogans while the overlords are watching, would you?"
"Hardly." Crovax smiled. "You're much too clever for someone whose life is measured in weeks. Why don't you remain on Rath? When I am evincar, I will need clever servants to carry out my will."
She didn't say anything. She cradled her injured hand in her good one and regarded it thoughtfully. "The idea intrigues you?" said Crovax. "It's an interesting proposal. I shall consider it." The sergeants picked up their dead comrade, and the injured men hobbled away to the dispensary. Four of them, including Nasser, remained behind, surrounding Ertai.
"I'll keep the light of your life until tomorrow," Crovax said. "His life is my guarantee you'll not renege on your promise."
"You will be evincar," Belbe said. "You have my word as emissary of the overlords. Let Ertai go."
Crovax laughed. "Shall we say tomorrow, an hour past midday? I'd hate to become governor until after the courtiers have been fed."
"Choose the hour you want. I will be there." Crovax herded Ertai and the sergeants out. He paused by the door. "I'll have to do something about this clutter," he said. "My predecessor had appalling taste-such a weakness for the human form. Good night, Excellency. I enjoyed the fight."
She picked up the cast-off Phyrexian discharger. The jewels on the top were dark. Belbe turned the weapon over and discovered the powerstone was gone. Someone-presumably Crovax-had removed it during the melee. An impressive feat, considering he'd never handled such a device before. He'd also removed the powerstone without the special tool, barehanded. An ordinary man would have been struck dead by the potent energy stored in the stone.
CHAPTER 16
DECISION
At the very pinnacle of the Citadel, Sivi and her comrades crouched behind a crane on the airship dock. A few yards away, Predator floated gently, tethered to the platform by a half-dozen thick cables. The airship's massive deck gun, which fired a huge barbed harpoon against enemy airships, had just been lowered to the deck by another crane. Gangs of moggs tugged on lines, rocking the gun carriage back and forth until it slipped onto the prepared barbette. Sivi counted at least thirty moggs and their Dal and Vec overseers around Predator. Maybe a hundred more were close by in various workshops.
"What do we do, Sivi?" asked Khalil, one of the Vec volunteers.
"If we could get on board, we could do some damage," she muttered.
"Teynel told us not to act alone," said Langwin, a Dal kinsmen of Darsett's. "We should meet up with him as planned and tell him we found the airship."
"Yes, and by the time we get back the damned thing may have flown away," Sivi said. "All the while Eladamri is in the hands of Greven! I tell you, we have to do what we can, now." She loosened the fake bandages and uncoiled the totenvec from around her waist. "Are you with me?"
Her Vec clansmen quickly agreed. The Dal were less enthused.
"Listen," she said. "If we can destroy Predator, it will create confusion throughout the Stronghold. It'll be easier for us to rescue Eladamri and get out of here."
The two Dal rebels mopped sweat from their faces.
"All right," said Medd, the elder of the two. "How do we get on board?"
Sivi looked all around. There was too much open floor between them and the floating airship. Though still dressed in Rathi uniforms, they were in a restricted area and were bound to be stopped long before they reached their target.
Sivi raised her eyes. The flowbot crane they were hiding behind was the largest on the dock. The gantry rose forty feet, and the gooseneck section reached out well over the moored airship.
"Feel like climbing?" she said.
She looped the toten-vec around h
er shoulder and started up the skeletal framework of the crane. One by one the others followed. The gantry was big enough to allow them to climb three abreast, but Liin Sivi took the lead.
She soon reached the end of the vertical section. Sivi paused and looked down. Her hands tightened on the framework. Not only was she forty feet above the platform, she could see over the edge of the dock to the Citadel far below. The ever-present energy beam was on the other side of Predator, and the sizzling blue stream almost drowned out construction noises from the dock.
The workers slacked off the lines on the deck gun once it was in place. Moggs with heavy iron mauls circled the gun and pounded red-hot rivets into the weapon's pedestal. Sparks flew, and when other moggs threw cold water on the rivets to harden them in place, gouts of steam clouded the deck.
It was opportunity sent by the gods. Sivi frantically waved her men forward, and one by one they dropped from the crane to the vacant quarterdeck.
They crouched along the port bulwark and worked their way aft to some open hatches. They heard voices and sounds of work below.
Medd looked to their leader. "What now?"
"There must be flammables on a ship like this," she said. "Oil, niter, liquor, something. We'll search below decks until we find some, then phutt!" She tossed a hand in the air. The rebels nodded solemnly.
They were about to ease down the first open hatch when a dock worker popped out unexpectedly. He stared at the five Rathi soldiers huddled there.
"What?" was all he managed to say before the rebels dragged him out and pounded him unconscious. They shoved him in a scupper, out of sight.
Sivi unslung the toten-vec. With gestures she indicated she'd go first.
Step by step, she descended the wide ladder into the ship. The air was heavy with the smell of hot metal and freshly cut wood. Sivi let the knife head of her weapon dangle by a few inches of cord. A mogg came out of a side cabin, a bundle of reinforcing rods on his shoulder. He didn't see Sivi frozen like a statue a few feet behind him, so he kept going. She flattened against the bulkhead and peered around the open door. Two more moggs were working inside, bolting rods to the outer hull plating. Sivi waved for her companions to slip past. When they were clear, she boldly walked by the open door, whip hanging loosely from her hand.
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