Side Trip

by Renee Duke

  “They do not have the sacred ring anywhere about their persons, Councilman,” he said apologetically. “I will see if it is in their luggage.” He brought our luggage in and subjected it to the same thorough search as our belts and travel bags. He even ran the scanner around the sides of each bag and backpack, looking for hidden chambers. “The ring is not here, Councilman,” he said, giving up.

  “Could they have slipped it under something in the air car, or taxi?”

  “No, Councilman. I scanned both vehicles thoroughly.”

  The man seemed pleased with himself for having thought of this, but Drazok did not extend him any commendations. He pursed his lips and regarded us thoughtfully.

  “So, you do not carry the ring with you. A wise precaution. I did not anticipate such distrust in ones so young. It will be interesting to hear where you have secreted it.”

  No one said anything. “Oh, come now,” he said impatiently. “There is no point in refusing to tell me. I can have my people track every move you have made since becoming aware of the ring’s authenticity and search every nook and cranny until they find it. That would, however, be irritatingly time consuming.”

  He waited, but we still did not say anything. “All right,” he snapped, “let’s try a different approach. I am told the parents of all but one of you hold high positions in that esteemed organization, the Association of United Planets. Although it would be imprudent of them to acknowledge their involvement, certain people within the Association are aware of my desire to set Prince Mardis on the throne of Cholar. They have worked with me toward this end. One of them wields considerable influence, influence he could use to your benefit. Your parents could be promoted to positions of great financial reward. And lucrative careers of your own would be yours for the asking once you were of an age to pursue them.”

  “We’re not interested,” I said.

  “No? Think carefully. This is an opportunity for you to build promising futures for yourselves. And consider this. If you remain obstructive, you might find you do not have futures, promising, or otherwise.”

  “If anything happens to us, you’ll never find the ring,” Kirsty warned.

  “I do not require all of you to locate the ring. I could dispose of three of you and still have one to tell me where the ring is to be found.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “We don’t all know its exact location.” I had seen Drazok slip a lie detector out of his pocket while he was talking to us, and was relieved to note it did not flash at this statement.

  I wasn’t the only one who had seen the detector. “That’s right,” said Kirsty. “I’d be very careful of us, if I were you. We’re not aboot to tell you which of us has the information you’re after. If you were to try anything, shall we say, ‘nasty’, chances are, you’d find you’d been and got rid of the one person you shouldn’t have.”

  Drazok’s lips tightened. “You will tell me where the ring is, and you will tell me now.”

  He leaned forward and glared at Simon. He probably thought he was young enough to be intimidated by an authoritative adult. Silly man. Simon thrives on deflating such people. He returned Drazok’s look with one of utter contempt, and said not a word.

  Drazok straightened up. After a moment, he jabbed Jip in the shoulder with his forefinger. “You. You are a Vorlan. Vorlans are said to be an honourable, if somewhat mentally negligible people. You know the Ring of Beom is Cholarian property. You cannot possibly keep that which does not belong to you. Not if you are as honourable as Vorlans claim to be.”

  “I am honourable,” said Jip.

  “Good,” said Drazok, encouraged. “Then, tell me, where is the ring?”

  “It is not my ring.”

  “That is correct. It is not your ring. You must, therefore, surrender it to me.”

  “It is not your ring.”

  “It is Prince Mardis’s ring,” said Drazok, quickly suppressing a flash from the lie detector. “I will take it to him.”

  “You do not have it,” Jip pointed out.

  “I will have it once you tell me where it is,” Drazok said through clenched teeth.

  Jip said nothing. Drazok gazed at her intently, but she continued to say nothing.

  “Well, where is it?” he eventually felt compelled to demand.

  Jip looked at him in surprise. “Oh, do you still want to know?”

  “Of course I want to know! Where is it, you wretched girl? Where have you put it?”

  “Put what?” Jip inquired, looking puzzled.

  They went on in this way for some time. Drazok finally gave up and turned to ask Kirsty if she knew where the ring was. She responded with a string of Gaelic curses. She also called him every derogative name in her vocabulary, with ‘shairnie-faced jouker’ being about the mildest.

  “I am afraid I am not familiar with that language,” Drazok said dryly. “I don’t suppose you answered my question, but it is gratifying to know at least one of you can express herself well. Perhaps the young lady beside you is also of a talkative nature, and will converse in a more comprehensible tongue.”

  It occurred to me that if I could focus his attention—and that of his henchmen—on me for a few seconds, the others might be able to scatter and get to the door. Jumping back from him I screamed, “Don’t come near me. If you come near me, I’ll faint. I think I’m going to anyway. Ooooohhhhh.”

  I crumpled dramatically to the floor.

  Drazok merely glanced down, sighed resignedly, and motioned for one of the Klavorians to pull me to my feet. A shrill signal from the audio unit behind us spared me any comment he might have made.

  “That will be my AUP contact,” he said, frowning. “It does not please me to have to tell him you are being so unhelpful. Still, I suppose I should have expected children to be childish. A day or two of close confinement should have a suitably subduing effect on you.” He nodded to the two men. “Take them away and put them with our other guest. Disagreeable though I have found their company, he will perhaps welcome it.”

  He swung round to the audio unit. His men gave us time to pick up our belongings, and we heard some of the transmission before filing out of the room. There was considerable interference, but since Drazok’s caller did almost all the talking, I had no trouble identifying him. It was Ambrose Ramsweir.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Smugglers’ Stronghold was too far away from an energy source to have automatic doors. The one to our prison was secured with an archaic arrangement of bolts and a huge padlock. The armed Klavorian guard outside it opened the padlock with a large key and swung the door inward to reveal a short stairway leading down into a storeroom.

  The storeroom had no windows, and the only space not occupied by crates and barrels was a corner containing a pile of soft lounging cushions. Seated atop these cushions was the other guest Drazok had spoken of. High Prince Taziol looked weary, and much less welcoming than when we had last seen him. Jumping to his feet, he glared at the men who had brought us to share his captivity.

  “What is this? What are they doing here? Does Drazok think he can weaken my resistance to his treacherous schemes by involving innocent children?”

  The men who had brought us just shrugged and went out. I heard the bolts being slid back into place as we hurried down the stairs.

  Taz came forward to meet us. “This is absurd. There is no reason for you to be mixed up in all this. What can my enemies possibly expect to gain from bringing you here?”

  I grimaced. “They want the Ring of Beom.”

  “That has nothing to do with you.”

  “I’m afraid it does.”

  Settling onto the cushions, we told Taz how Simon had been tricked into stealing the ring, and then, in all innocence, passed it on to us.

  Taz listened intently. When we finally finished, he looked across at Simon and smiled. “So you are the one I have to thank for my present predicament, eh?”

  Simon had probably been bracing himself for Taz’s wrath thro
ughout our discourse. Such an affable reaction proved too much for him. He burst into tears.

  Taz leaned forward and took him in his arms. “Hush, hush, little one. It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault. You were but the tool of unscrupulous, ambitious men. It is they who are responsible for what has happened, and they who will be brought to account for it.”

  He rocked Simon back and forth as if he were a fractious toddler. I was surprised Simon put up with it. But the insolent, unconcerned boy who had stared Drazok down was gone. The tearful child in his place was open to any form of comfort.

  Taz waited for Simon’s sobs to subside before turning to the rest of us. “I was knocked out when Drazok’s men took me prisoner. Do you happen to know what became of those who were with me that night?”

  “The guards were killed,” I said gently, knowing he would feel responsible for his men’s lives. “Lord Verim was injured. We don’t know how badly. He might not be alive now either. But how is it you weren’t killed, Taz? Keeping you here until after the Succession Tribunal might lessen your chances of retaining the succession, but Mardis could have got rid of you once and for all that night. Why didn’t he?”

  Saddened by what I had told him, Taz took a moment to answer. “That would not have served Drazok’s purpose. You have evidently heard talk about recent attempts on my life. Such stories were mere rumours, put out to produce unrest and add to the confusion and tension surrounding the succession. Those who support Mardis as hereditary successor would never have carried out any such threat. Were I to be killed while still the lawfully chosen successor, the rulership would go to my hereditary successor. And even Drazok would hesitate to follow my murder with that of so young a child. The people of Cholar would turn on him in an instant.”

  “You’ve got two now,” I said, remembering. “The baby came early.”

  “Really? Did the birth go well? Is Vostia all right?”

  “Mother and baby were both reported to be in good condition.”

  Again, Taz said nothing for a moment, but his lips moved, as though giving thanks. Then he said, “Boy or girl?”

  “Weren’t you told that months ago?”

  “No. On Cholar, we prefer to let that be a surprise.”

  “Boy.”

  Taz beamed. “One of each, then. A blow for Drazok. But as I said, he would not dare harm them. Or, for the moment, me. The only way for him to secure the throne for Mardis is to have me brought to dishonour and the succession taken from me. After that, however, he will indeed consider me expendable.”

  “You speak as though it is Crown Councilman Drazok who seeks your ruin,” said Jip. “What of Prince Mardis?”

  “My cousin is no usurper. Actually, he’s quite a nice fellow. Too nice, perhaps. A Supreme Ruler must be strong, and decisive. He must be able to control those who seek to control him.”

  “And Mardis isn’t like that?”

  “Not in the least. Drazok controls him already. And would go on doing so once he became Supreme Ruler.”

  “How could he?” I asked. “The Ring of Beom is supposed to keep Supreme Rulers from being betrayed and manipulated by people like Drazok. Doesn’t it work? Are all its powers just a myth?”

  “By no means. The Ring of Beom holds the essence of every virtue and strength a monarch requires to rule Cholar as wisely and fairly as Beom did. That essence is transmitted to every Supreme Ruler at his coronation, giving him a foreknowledge of insurrection and the ability to judge the characters of those around him.”

  “Won’t the ring transmit all that to Mardis if he’s crowned?” asked Simon, his tears spent and his interest aroused.

  “In order for a Supreme Ruler to call forth the energies of the Ring of Beom, he must have answering qualities within himself. Mardis does not. My uncle loved him dearly. If he had passed the Verification of the Succession, Obruk would not have hesitated to make him his successor.”

  “What’s the Verification of the Succession?” Kirsty wanted to know.

  “A test performed when each potential successor is but seven years of age. Besides the child involved, the only people in attendance are the Supreme Ruler, the Supreme Chancellor, and the Hereditary Keeper of the Sacred Ring. They alone know how each child fares. The Supreme Ruler’s successor is chosen from among those who can elicit a response from the ring.”

  “What sort of response?” I asked.

  “Every child entitled to Verification is asked to hold the ring in his or her hands and recite an ancient invocation. If the child is one who could, in time, become a good Supreme Ruler, the jewels forming the eyes of the taiskel glimmer, and then shine. If the jewels do not alter, it is a sign that the child’s talents lie in some other direction.”

  Taz sighed. “Mardis is no leader of men. He’s a naturalist. He prefers plants and animals to his fellow Cholarians. The ring must have known he was unsuited to the rulership. I know Obruk did. So does Mardis himself. This plot to depose me is not of his doing. He would hate being Supreme Ruler. For his sake, as well as all Cholar’s, I must thwart Drazok’s plans. But the Succession Tribunal meets in less than a week. How will I ever get out of this accursed dungeon in time to recover the Ring of Beom and present myself before it?”

  Clearly agitated, he jumped up and began to pace the room.

  “Do you think there are any listening devices in this place?” I asked him.

  Taz shook his head. “Such things do not work out here.”

  “Good. Then it should be okay to tell you that you don’t have to recover the ring. It’s right here—inside my belt.”

  Taz stopped pacing and stared at me. “Inside your belt? How was it Drazok did not find it then? Did he not have all of you searched?”

  “Och, aye,” said Kirsty. “But Jip put it in another dimension. It’s not visible from this plane.”

  I let Taz inspect my belt while Jip explained dimension travel to him.

  “I have heard that dimension travel is possible,” he said slowly, “but I had no idea people actually did it. Is it an ability all Vorlans are born with?”

  “We are born with a metabolism well suited to dimension travel. Dimension travel itself requires training. There must be a desire, a stated mental intention, to enter another plane. An infant cannot crawl across the floor and accidentally slip into one of the room’s other dimensions. He must first learn the techniques which will take him there.”

  “Have any non-Vorlans ever mastered those techniques?” Taz asked, intrigued.

  Jip smiled. “They seldom come to this plane, but some who exist in what we would call other dimensions also have the ability to travel from one dimension to another. And a few non-Vorlans from this plane have been known to acquire it after years of study.”

  “In other words, I cannot just take a quick lesson from you and go and get the ring myself.”

  “I am afraid you must rely on me for that.”

  “And so I shall. But not yet. The ring must stay where it is for the moment. It can be brought out once we are safely away from here.”

  “Assuming we ever get away from here,” I said. “Even getting out of this room’s going to be difficult. The door’s locked with one of those old padlock things that can’t be opened from this side. Even if it wasn’t, there’s a guard out there armed to the teeth.”

  “The guard does not concern me. In my present mood, I am equal to half a dozen such guards. It is the locked door that presents the problem. But not for you,” he said, turning to Jip. “You could pass beyond it on another plane.”

  “I could indeed, but what good would it do? I cannot subdue the guard. Not by myself.”

  “You wouldn’t have to,” said Simon. “Just the fact you weren’t here would be enough to rattle him. If you ‘escape’, Taz can jump him while he’s trying to figure out how.”

  “And once we’ve sorted him, we can nip through the door, make oor way oot to the air cars, and get away in that big one we came here in,” said Kirsty. “The smaller one w
ould soon be left in the dust if anyone tried to use it to come after us.”

  “Especially if we do something to it before we go,” I enthused. “What do you think, Taz?”

  The High Prince looked slightly dazed. Then he laughed. “I think it is a good thing you are all on my side. Still, your plan just might work. It is certainly worth a try. The guard keeps me well fed, and should be bringing in a meal any time now.”

  When the food arrived, it was carried in the two men who’d brought us to the hideout. The guard merely assisted them by holding us at bay with his liquidator.

  At first, none of them noticed anything amiss. Jip had slipped into another dimension as soon as we had heard the bolts being drawn back, and we did not call attention to her apparent absence until the three men were well into the room.

  Then: “Run, run,” I shouted. “Now’s your chance, Jip. Hurry.”

  “Aye, oot the door with you,” Kirsty urged, jumping up and down in excitement.

  The guard did a quick head count. “One of them’s got away,” he cried. “Get after her.”

  He kept his weapon trained on us as the other two dropped the food trays and charged for the stairs.

  They didn’t get far. Simon tripped them up with a rope he’d found in the storeroom and fastened to a hook on the wall. Their cries as they went crashing down caused the guard to turn, giving Taz a chance to hit him from behind. As he fell to the floor unconscious, Taz sprang across him and proceeded to deal with the men on the stairs. His fighting technique was similar to the ancient martial arts still practiced on Earth, and just as effective. He put them out of action in no time, scooped up their fallen liquidators and stun guns, and turned to us.

  “Hurry,” he said in a low, but urgent tone. “Someone may have heard all this. Drazok has other men besides these.”

  We crept up the stairs and went to join Jip, who had materialized out in the passage. Our clash with our captors did not seem to have drawn attention, but we still proceeded with caution. When I opened a side door, the others all slipped through it as soundlessly as possible.