The girl pressed her hands harder against him, tensing. She stared at her former mentor with the intensity of artillery shots, and Udru’h stiffened. “I am a bridge between species. I learned how to open myself and act as a conduit for the hydrogues.” Osira’h had a frightening expression on her face. “This is just sharing.”
Udru’h began to shudder. His eyes widened, and his expression drew back in fear. Osira’h did not release him. “Enough!” He raised his hands, clearly in deep pain. “It is enough.”
Osira’h let go, and the injured man reeled. His eyes were glassy. She smiled at her mother and said calmly, “I gave him every memory. Every assault, every torture, every rape. He has now experienced it as you did, Mother.”
Udru’h looked at Nira with a new kind of revulsion.
The girl raised her delicate eyebrows. “Maybe we should have just killed him. Is that what you want? Would that make you feel free, Mother?”
The other angry men and women raised their implements and shouted, but Nira seemed to speak only to her children, all of them. “No. You might know my hatred of him, but you don’t know what I want. Hatred cannot free me. You made me see your brothers and sisters—made me accept them for who they are and not reject them for how they came to be born. Think about your brother Rod’h. Udru’h is his father. Would you do this to Rod’h as well? Does he deserve to see his father beaten to death?”
Osira’h was confused and uncertain. “But I was doing this for you, Mother! What do you want?”
Nira seemed to have considered that already. “For these people, for this camp, I want changes. We are now strong enough to demand them. Changes, Osira’h. Not mere revenge. Revenge and violence are easy, but they leave a stain you can never wash away. I could never want that for you—for any of us.”
She gestured toward the battered and bloody Udru’h, who huddled on the floor. “Bind him so he can’t get away. Then we will all take him to the new Designate Daro’h. He has the power to end this . . . if he is wise enough.”
79
NIRA
Outside the former Designate’s residence, people ran wild through the settlement. Lens kithmen, laborers, servants, and guards were trapped within crowded communal residences, unable to escape the spreading flames. Screams rose like smoke from the burning structures.
At first, running far ahead of her from the bonfire of the breeding barracks, Stoner and his uncontrolled comrades had begun to torch outbuildings, supply structures, even a medical inspection center. But now the fire went wherever it wished, sweeping to inhabited buildings. Unsuspecting Ildirans had been caught within their homes and were even now being burned alive.
The former captives were horrified to hear the agonized wails from those trapped behind the flames. This was not what they had intended. Men and women rallied, called to each other, and ran to the doorways, attempting to batter their way in. Nira joined them, trying to help rescue the helpless Ildirans.
And then the guard kithmen had come.
Seeing the flames and the mob of humans, the bestial-looking Ildiran soldiers had fallen upon the former captives, hacking with crystal swords. Dozens had died before the rest of the humans scattered in complete panic. Thinking of the half-breed children with her, Nira had run with them to the residence of Designate Udru’h, where she hoped they might be safe.
There, she had not found what she’d expected, but she had prevented yet another murder. Now perhaps she could stop the rest of this madness.
Nira felt sickened as her group left the former Designate’s residence. When she had planned this protest, the burning of the breeding barracks, she had only wanted to force Daro’h into more than the token concessions he’d made in order to cover up the larger plan. She had never intended wholesale destruction. The mayhem continued. The flames were brighter, the screams louder, the situation completely out of control. And the Ildiran guards were killing any loose humans they encountered.
On the outskirts of the Ildiran settlement, the barracks had collapsed into smoldering rubble, and Nira watched as the rising wind blew sparks beyond the camp, setting fire to the grassy hills. The rioters had no interest in stopping that inferno and moved inexorably toward the separate residence of new Designate Daro’h, dragging a battered Udru’h with them. Nira guessed he must be in terrible pain, but at least she had saved his life—for the time being. She doubted her former tormentor would appreciate it.
Her half-breed children accompanied them, following Osira’h as much as they followed her. Raised and trained to sacrifice everything for the Ildiran Empire, they had never imagined anything remotely like this. Both repelled and fascinated, their strange mixed eyes missed nothing.
Frantic Ildirans ran outside; some of them tried to extinguish the flames, while others attempted to free those trapped in the buildings. Humans rushed pell-mell from one burning building to another. Guided by her determination, Nira’s small group of followers had only one goal. They marched forward in a disorganized group, the antithesis of precisely trained Ildiran troops.
Suddenly, brutal guards carrying long crystal spears charged into the scattered breeding subjects. The former captives fought back with sticks and clubs, furrowers and planting rods, killing two Ildiran guards. But they had no fighting experience, and dozens were swiftly hacked to pieces. Nira urged her group to run forward, calling out Daro’h’s name.
Staunch kithmen formed a cordon in front of the new Designate’s residence, standing against Nira’s approach. They held katanas—sharp crystal blades mounted on poles. With amazing synchronization, the guards hurled the sharp weapons. Every blade flew true as the panicked mob scattered. Katanas plunged into chests, necks, and even the backs of those few who turned to run. A scream rose up, followed by a wave of outrage.
With deep dismay Nira saw that the guards would never allow the mob to enter Daro’h’s house. Thinking dangerously, she made up her mind in an instant. She glanced at Osira’h, who quickly understood. Suddenly the girl and her mother stood holding a still-shuddering Designate Udru’h at the forefront, presenting themselves as living shields.
“We must speak with Designate Daro’h!” Nira’s words were clear above the screams, the crackle of flames, the shattering of crystal panes. “Bring him!”
The guards stepped forward, raising their weapons. Nira could see that many of the sharp blades were already smeared with blood.
Osira’h called, “I am the Mage-Imperator’s daughter. This is former Designate Udru’h. You know us. My mother was a consort of Prime Designate Jora’h. Did he not give you orders to protect her?”
As if daring the guards to kill them, the half-breed children joined their mother and sister-savior whom they revered. Rod’h sent a disturbed look toward the defeated Udru’h, then faced forward.
Soldier kithmen followed orders without question, but they did not know how to deal with complicated and unclear decisions. Finally, Udru’h croaked out through bloody lips, “Bring Daro’h! Do not be fools.”
The upper windows of the Designate’s residence swung open. Daro’h had been there observing, arguing with overprotective guards. “Hold your weapons! There will be no more killing.”
The guard kithmen froze but kept their crystal spears ready. Angry humans pushed forward, growling. Nira and Osira’h stood beside the former Designate, in front of all the others.
Daro’h sounded distraught. “Why are you doing this? I gave you your freedom. I tore down the fences.”
Osira’h cried, “You never told them about the hydrogues—and how the Mage-Imperator agreed to betray humanity.”
“If the hydrogues are going to kill us anyway,” Benn Stoner shouted from behind, “why shouldn’t we kill all of you first?”
Nira stepped forward, apart from the mob’s simmering anger. “We can stop this now—or we can all perish.” Glancing behind her, she added, “Do not underestimate the strength of these people. They’ve got nothing to lose.” The screams and the roaring flames demanded her
attention. “We will help you get this madness under control. Please let us help you—there isn’t much time. And afterward, you can tell them all the truth.”
Udru’h swayed, then dropped to his knees. Osira’h stepped away from him. “Do as they say,” the former Designate called.
Roaring flames now spread across the hills and through the Ildiran settlement. Daro’h commanded his guards to cease their attacks, to work instead—with the humans—to save whoever could be rescued from the burning buildings. “Or we will all be dead before the hydrogues come anyway.”
80
CHAIRMAN BASIL WENCESLAS
Whenever he summoned Deputy Cain, the pale man came with some optimistic report that Basil had not asked for. It was as if Cain strategically wanted to fend off unpleasant issues by arming himself with something irrelevant. Or was it a deeper plan? He wondered what the man would bring this time.
Basil had called his deputy to the rooftop gardens of the stepped pyramid. The carefully manicured shrubs, dwarf fruit trees, and sweetly pungent exotic flowers were maintained with a geometric precision that he wished he could impose upon his own people. It comforted him to see how the plants thrived and yet maintained their exact places.
Cain waved a data display screen. “The crew at the hydrogue derelict has made a new breakthrough with the exotic wall that is similar to the Klikiss transportals. The engineers have activated the energy source. We anticipate this will lead to a great many new developments.”
Basil pursed his lips. This was indeed interesting. “Good, we can make it function. Now, how long until we know how to shut down a warglobe? We’ve heard reports that the Roamers even have some kind of effective weapon that they used against the hydrogues at Theroc. If the damned Roamers can figure it out, I expect the Hansa to do better.”
“If we can make the hydrogue ship work, Mr. Chairman, we can probably figure out how to break it down. It’s generally easier to screw things up.”
Basil scowled. “Yes, I am very familiar with screwups. Speaking of which, I’ve decided to send another small retrieval ship to Qronha 3 in search of our missing rammers. Just in case. They’ve got to be out there somewhere. Maybe we can bring back some of them.”
Cain looked perplexed. “I thought the Soldier compies stole the rammers.”
“Probably. But Stromo’s green priest mentioned a curious transmission they intercepted. We had a surveillance compy hidden among the rammer crews. If we strengthen and lock onto the spy signal, it could lead us to the rammers.”
“Interesting.”
Basil’s jaw clenched. “And it will give the busybody media reporters something relevant to talk about. They keep raising questions about the King and Queen, wanting to know when the baby is due to be born, demanding that the royal couple make more public appearances. They’ve already started broadcasting reports that Peter and Estarra are under house arrest and confined to their quarters. ‘Inside sources!’” Basil made an angry noise. “I assigned you the task of finding out who has been talking to reporters, who has been leaking information from the Whisper Palace. I’m counting on you, Cain.”
“I am doing my best, sir. At the moment, I have no leads. This inside source seems to be a very careful, very clever person.”
Basil heaved a sigh of disgust, then cut off further irrelevant chitchat. “I called you here because I have a job for you. I need you to write a very important letter.”
Cain was intrigued. “A letter to whom?”
“To whom it may concern—or whatever phrase you choose. The author will be Estarra. You see, our poor Queen is about to be terribly distraught, shattered, in fact. We can only imagine how much pain and abject misery a woman feels when she loses her unborn child.”
Cain could not cover his startled expression. “The Queen lost her baby? When did that happen?”
“She’s going to lose it soon, and there are bound to be medical complications. If she happens to survive the miscarriage, then we will need your note.” Basil narrowed his gray eyes. “It has to be perfect, considering it’ll be widely reported in the media.”
Cain seemed guarded, even upset. “I need to be perfectly clear what you’re asking me to do, Mr. Chairman.”
“Don’t be obtuse. You need to make sure the Queen sounds sufficiently distraught, even suicidal, after losing the baby. She can’t deal with the responsibility and the loss. It’s clear to her that she has no option but to take her own life, and so on. She’ll find a quiet and painless way, I’m sure.”
A flush appeared on the pale man’s face. His nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath. “It is very dangerous—and, I believe, ill-advised—for you to kill the Queen.”
“The Queen is going to kill herself, Mr. Cain . . . if that should prove necessary. And I believe it will be.”
Cain remained silent for a long time. He didn’t pace, didn’t move, simply stared into the Chairman’s eyes. “Consider the consequences of such an action. You saw how the public cheered when they learned of her pregnancy. If she loses the baby, they will be devastated. If the Queen commits suicide afterward, it will be another blow. Now is not the time for us to willfully damage morale. The people are already in despair—what if this pushes them over the edge? Mr. Chairman, that is a decidedly foolish risk to take.”
Basil gave a dismissive wave. “Public morale will drop for a while, and then we’ll shore it up. In a time of such tragedy, the people will grasp at any straw.” The Chairman bent over to smell the fragrant white blossoms. “By the way, I’m happy to report that Prince Daniel is doing remarkably well. Ever since we put abject terror into him, he’s been fabulously cooperative. Oh, he’s a bit full of himself in front of functionaries and servants, but never around me.”
Cain was obviously not so satisfied. “He takes out his frustration on others. That is not a desirable leadership trait, sir. We should do our best to stamp it out while he is still malleable. It could come back to bite us in the future.”
“On the contrary, I see it as a sign of healthy self-esteem. A King needs that, so long as he does exactly what he’s told.”
Cain continued to struggle with his genuine anger. Basil was pleased to see the deputy show a little backbone. “Sir, may I speak frankly?”
“If I wanted simpering, I could find any number of people to do it.”
“Your animosity toward King Peter has passed beyond the professional level to become a personal vendetta. I believe it’s affecting your ability to perform rationally as Chairman.”
“I have never lost sight of the big picture, Mr. Cain. The list of Peter’s infractions is very long, and so is the number of once-reliable men and women who’ve now let me down. I am reestablishing order one piece at a time, step-by-step, and to do so I must grant myself the freedom to do whatever is necessary. I have my own methodology.”
Though Cain remained disturbed, for Basil the meeting was ended. “Go and write your draft of the letter. Maybe we’ll never need to use it, but I intend to keep my options open.”
81
ANTON COLICOS
Eager to share one of the new stories they had found in the Hyrillka vaults, Anton and Vao’sh met with a weary Designate Ridek’h in his citadel palace quarters. They had already sifted out the best, most provocative new stories, but they had not yet found a miracle cure for the Mage-Imperator’s problems.
The boy was red-eyed and obviously exhausted, but Anton thought he looked a great deal more determined and confident than he had been aboard the warliner. With Yazra’h and Tal O’nh assisting him, the young Designate was overseeing so many rebuilding operations, boosting the morale of his people, that he was too preoccupied for doubts anymore.
Interested in what the historians had found, Yazra’h joined them in the Designate’s private room. The beautiful but intimidating woman took a seat very close beside Anton, though he hadn’t left her much room. She smelled clean, freshly scrubbed, but not perfumed. The tawny Isix cats circled the room twice, then melted onto
the floor at Anton’s feet.
Ridek’h looked eagerly at the old rememberer. “Is it a brave story? About Hyrillka?” He sat in a chair that looked much too large for him.
“This is the tale of the Shadow Fleet, the voyagers in darkness, trapped forever just a thin boundary away from the light.” Anton had read the accounts, too, but decided to let Vao’sh share it. His friend was a master storyteller.
“Orryx . . . a name not much remembered, a place no longer visited. It was the first of our splinter colonies to succumb to the black shadow of the Shana Rei.” The old historian’s voice grew stronger with each stanza he had memorized, and the lobes on his face flushed a variety of colors. “Shana Rei. The creatures of darkness had emerged from their black nebulae and swallowed our survey fleet, leaving their victims nothing more than pale ghosts killed by the utter absence of light!” He drew in a quick breath, startling them.
“But Ildirans did not yet know the nature of their terrible new enemy. The Shana Rei were a hungry wave spreading out from the dark nebulae, living shadows that devoured light and life. Orryx was the first in their path, a place of flowers and fields, families and songs. They suspected nothing until the Shana Rei flung blackness across the landscape like a shroud that absorbed all light, blindfolding the eyes and hearts of those poor people. A permanent eclipse.”
Outside, Hyrillka’s bright primary sun had set, and the orange secondary left a coppery burning undertone in the air. As the rememberer told his story, the room seemed to grow dimmer.
Vao’sh extended a finger. “When the Mage-Imperator sensed his subjects being engulfed on Orryx, he rushed a septa of warliners to fight for them. Seven warliners armed with our best weapons and crewed by the bravest soldier kithmen. All seven battleships vanished into the blackness.
“Feeling echoes of horror through the thism, the Mage-Imperator commanded his engineers and scientists to develop new weapons from the Lightsource. Before long, brave Tal Bria’nh rushed to the dying splinter colony with a cohort of warliners. He carried a hundred new sun bombs—satellites that could produce as much purifying brightness as a star. They were confident, angry, and ready to take revenge for the unprovoked attack.
Of Fire and Night Page 31