by DL O'Neal
"I'm the Merchant Master, Cheyna. You don't honestly expect me to pass up a fortune, do you?" He gestured. "For what? For the jungle to reclaim, to hide for another chiliad, until some trader stumbles upon it and has the sense to see it for what it is?"
"And what is it?" Cheyna argued hotly. "Just another commodity to sell in order to make the Merchant Master's legend complete? Is that all this means to you?"
"If you want to put it that way, yes." All the fire, all the warmth was washed out of the dark voice, making it as cold and unyielding as volcanic ice.
"Why?" she cried. "Is not the profit from the trade route enough to satisfy your craving for wealth?"
His face settled into a carved mask of indifference. "Is that what you believe?" He sounded remote.
Cheyna felt terrible. Deep down, she knew there had to be another reason, but what? Drakthe, himself, had told her the profit from the Agora route would enable him to found his House, so if not greed what reason could he have for carving up the city?
"Well, is it?"
She shook her head, miserable. "No. It is what I should believe, but I just cannot." Her voice cracked. "But what else is there?"
Drakthe crossed the small space between them to take her hands in his. "I'm a trader, Cheyna. Trading is more than what I do. It's what I am. This," his gesture encompassed the entire city, "this is the find of a lifetime for a trader."
"What of the historical value? The crystal city is chiliads old. So old no known records exist. Does not its very ancientness hold value?"
"Cheyna," he began, "the market for gemstone of this quality is incalculable. I doubt anything else like it exists on Scimtar. Certainly nothing with the clarity and full spectra this crystal exhibits. Think of the prestige this find will bring. Beyond the prestige, beyond the drekel, is the fact that if we don't claim it, someone else will."
Cheyna set her chin at a stubborn angle. "We will see."
"Bondwife, I am not willing to negotiate on this matter."
She abandoned the argument for the moment. By the time they left this city of crystal, Drakthe would not be talking profit. A head to head tussle, however, was not the way to win him to her side. Her bondhusband thrived on battle. No, she must get him to see reason. Be water on stone, as it were. Mentally girding her loins, she began concocting a plan of action.
"Where should we begin looking for the memory crystal?" She eyed their surroundings. "Perhaps we should each take a dwelling. We could speed up the search that way."
"Forget it, House-daughter. We stay together."
"It would be much quicker if we explored on our own."
"Either we stay together, or we leave. Right now, this minute."
Drakthe did not take opposition well. She was coming to understand her bondhusband quite well. The ultimatum was his way of showing his displeasure. Inwardly amused, she inclined her head. "As you wish, my lord."
Stymied by her quick capitulation, Drakthe looked ready to tackle a firecat barehanded. He turned his temper onto the thick tangle of jungle growth, slashing a path into one dwelling after another. Vines the thickness of his wrist crumpled under the fierce onslaught. Flower petals rained down like fragrant confetti as Drakthe ignored vicious thorns and razor-like leaves and hacked through climbers to enter a world of fantastical beauty.
The unknown builders had possessed a superb sense of color and design that not even intervening centuries could diminish. Cheyna had to continually discipline herself to resist the temptation to stay and thoroughly explore each dwelling. She wished they had more time. They had not even scratched the surface of the long-gone race. For instance, although some dwellings were obviously homes, the purpose of others was harder to define. One in particular intrigued her.
The towering geodesic roof with an intricately inlaid geometric design and the mirror-image inlay that graced the floor aroused even Drakthe's curiosity.
"Think it was some kind of meeting hall?"
"Then where are the chairs? Or the benches?" Cheyna asked.
"Who knows after centuries of disuse? Anything could have happened to them. Or maybe they stood during meetings. It's hard to say with a culture this old. That brings up another point, however. Everything here, whether it is a chair, a bureau, or even a table seems wrong somehow. Even the buildings themselves don't feel right. I don't know. It all feels off-kilter."
"Oh, no, my lord. The proportions are perfect. Never have I seen anything so elegantly beautiful." Cheyna reverently ran her hand over a smooth crystal wall. "Perfect," she breathed, turning her head to look at him.
Drakthe's gaze wasn't on the rose pink walls or the jeweled tones of the ceiling, he was watching her as she caressed the transparent stone. "To you." There was an odd note in his voice and he looked thoughtful.
"To you," he clarified, "it is perfect, the lines elegant and comfortable. To me, the whole setup feels vaguely foreign." He glanced about the room, then back at her. "I think this was a Raipierian settlement."
"You cannot be serious, my lord," Cheyna protested, but then studied the room with new eyes. The open air hall where their bonding ceremony took place reminded her of this room, but in the same way a poorly rendered copy reminded one of a masterpiece.
For that matter, so did Class as a whole.
On the other hand, she could think of several cities on Rpiere possessing the same elegant style as the crystal city. Oh, the buildings lacked the exquisite beauty of the multihued crystal, but the designs, the sense of balance with nature, were very, very similar.
Why had she not noticed it before?
"Do you realize what you are saying?"
Drakthe nodded.
"You are saying that at one time the Raipier lived on Scimtar." Her brow crinkled. "Why are there no records of this? Surely records would exist if the Raipier had settlements on Scimtar? If not here, then on Rpiere?"
"The memory crystals don't speak of a Raipierian settlement?"
"Not that I've come across. I do not understand. The Raipier are very literal-minded. The instructions on the crystal specifically sent us here. Why would they not detail such important information?"
"Perhaps they did. Perhaps it's on the third memory crystal."
Of one accord, the search resumed, more intensely focused than ever.
By the fourth day, Cheyna was growing discouraged. They had searched well over fifty buildings and not one yielded the first sign of a memory crystal.
"Could we have missed something, my lord?" She trailed along behind Drakthe, her attention on the carved corridor. Even here, in the connecting passageway, light poured in to illuminate the designs. The Raipier were a sun-loving people. More and more, Cheyna believed Drakthe was correct, that the Raipier built the crystal city.
"Could I have misinterpreted Shwna's message? Maybe she did not mean the memory crystal was hidden in the city itself."
"Then again, maybe she did."
The low thrum of excitement in Drakthe's voice captured Cheyna's full attention, pulling it from the whimsical depiction of a ladyhawke alighting upon the nose of drquon. An amused smile still on her lips, she turned.
They were in the entryway of an enormous black crystal cavern. Not the slightest speck of sunlight filtered through the dense crystal. It was as if a curtain of night had fallen between one step and the other.
Her little pet, she'd already named him Paldin, froze in the act of climbing up her burnuese. His sides heaved frantically. Cheyna reached down, thinking to calm him. He took off, scrambling madly up the corridor she'd just traversed. She started to call out to him, then stopped. He would come to no harm, might, in fact, hurt himself if she insisted he stay. She moved beside her bondmate.
Drakthe took a cryslight from his baldric, activated it and held it up high. The pale circle of light pushed against the thick darkness. As if in response to a prearranged signal, recessed lamps came on, weak at first, then brighter, oases of light in the stygian darkness.
His nostrils flared, li
ke an animal sensing a trap. He motioned Cheyna to stay where she was and entered the room, poised for an assault, his krees held at the ready. Additional cryslights flickered, marking his progress.
Empty. He relaxed a fraction. The battle-ready tension muted but he didn't put his krees away.
"Come on in, Cheyna."
"What do you think it is?" she asked him, her voice hushed as if she were afraid of disturbing the darkness held at bay by the lamps.
Benches, counters, and long, low tables lurked in the shadows, mysterious presences that sent a shiver of distaste racing down Drakthe's spine. The sheathe and krees pendent around his throat grew warm.
"Some sort of laboratory would be my guess." He couldn't prevent acute aversion from coating his tone. Considering the Raipiers' psi power, only too well could he envision the experiments that might have taken place here in this room.
The cavern was the perfect hiding place for a crystal embedded with psi resonances.
"Let's find that memory crystal and get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."
For all the mystery in finding the crystal city, and this cavern, in particular, the memory crystal was practically in plain sight. The now familiar pouch resided in a small alcove notched into the wall.
Drakthe heaved a sigh as he saw the Raipier had again encased it in volcanic ice. He slanted a derisive glare in Cheyna's direction.
"You'd think once we got this far, they could forego the volcanic ice." He didn't wait for an answer but plunged the glowing krees into the ice facing the alcove. He passed the pouch to his bondwife.
She poured the crystal into her hand. The memory crystal was much smaller this time. The flat piece of crystal, shaped like a wavy triangle, was only about half the length of her palm.
"What next, House-daughter? Another hunt?" He replaced the krees in its sheathe. Drakthe began striding toward the entrance, anxious to leave the dark cavern. Something about this place was definitely getting to him.
"I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere, Merchant Master." Lord Lcrier stepped into the room and bowed in Cheyna's direction. "You either, my lady."
From the corner of his eye, Drakthe caught the barely perceptible movement of Cheyna's arm as she slipped the memory crystal into her pocket. He drew Lcrier's attention to himself and away from Cheyna.
"Let her go, Lcrier. This is between you and me."
"You misunderstand, Merchant Master." Lcrier leveled the barrel of an airbow at Drakthe and motioned for two men to restrain him. A third man, sporting the remains of a bruise on his jaw, removed the krees at Drakthe's waist. The minion gave it to Lord Lcrier, who slipped it in his pocket.
"Now that I have the NaturPath, it is you I don't need."
"You should have forgotten Cheyna once she was my bondwife." Drakthe stood, at ease, between two men.
His acquiescence heightened Lcrier's confidence. "The NaturPath was never yours, Merchant Master. I only loaned her to you for a time." Lcrier moved closer to the restrained Drakthe, seeming unable to resist the desire to taunt his rival.
"You should not have interfered, Merchant Master, you might have lived longer. Then again, what does it matter? I have the woman, your trade contract, and you. Breeding will always win," Lcrier taunted, showing perfect, white teeth in an unpleasant smile.
Drakthe lifted his shoulder in a deliberately nonchalant shrug. "You couldn't keep her then. You won't keep her now. You should have had the sense to heed my warning back at Shhiv." A fist plowed into his stomach. He grunted, then raised his head and smiled. "Breeding won't save your life, Lcrier."
Cheyna restrained a shiver as rage twisted Lcrier's features into a caricature of handsome. Silently, she urged Drakthe to exercise care. Lcrier was not stable and she was not certain how much baiting the man could handle before he broke entirely.
Lcrier seemed to gain control of himself. He smiled thinly and turned his attention toward Cheyna. He crossed the room and cupped her jaw in his hand. The skin of her face quivered with revulsion.
"Regretting the bonding you made, little NaturPath?" he queried with false solicitousness. "Perhaps if you are very good to me you won't have to die with the Merchant Master."
"I regret not listening to my bondhusband in Shhiv. He warned you were not to be trusted." Cheyna winced as Lcrier's fingers tightened. Pain shot through her jaw.
"Think carefully before you reject my generous offer, NaturPath. I can make you rue your impertinence."
"No. You cannot," she stated with a dignity that made Lcrier gnash his teeth. Cheyna met his glare with a serene look.
Suddenly, the anger seemed to leave Lcrier. His amicable front frightened her more than his bluster. She knew she was right to be afraid when he stroked her bottom lip with his forefinger.
"I've been told that mindtouch is the most intimate form of sex there is." He swept an arm toward a stone bench.
"Shall we find out?"
A roar of pure fury resonated in the crystal cavern, rebounding endlessly in the immense expanse. Drakthe surged against his bonds, taking the guards by surprise. He was halfway across the room before they reacted. Lcrier froze, his arm in the air, as his hated enemy charged.
A dozen men tackled Drakthe before he could reach Lcrier. He fought with mindless fury and determination, ignoring the brutal blows. One landed above his brow, splitting the skin. Drakthe shook the blood out of his eyes and lashed out, catching one guard a solid blow on the jaw. The man went down. Another took his place. Drakthe struck out again, and again. He gained another few feet. More guards joined the fray.
"No!" Cheyna screamed, as Drakthe disappeared in a tangle of humanity. "No, my lord, do not! Drakthe! Do not fight them."
"Please," she screamed mentally.
Drakthe stilled.
The momentary lapse was all it took. A krees appeared at his throat, pressing hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. He scorned the threat of the sharp blade, his gaze meeting hers across the distance separating them. He tensed when he saw Lcrier place a krees at Cheyna's throat.
Cheyna smiled.
"You taught me well, my lord. I will honor my word to you."
"Are you sure, House-daughter?"
"Very sure, my lord." Her gaze locked with Drakthe's, Cheyna instructed crisply, "I am ready, Lord Lcrier."
"Get on the table." He shot a wary glance at the Merchant Master. "Bind him over there, on that table. Make sure the bonds are strong enough to hold him." He watched while his minions hurried to carry out his instructions.
"He can't escape?"
"No, Lord Lcrier. Nothing less than a krees can sever these bonds."
"Leave and return to base camp. Do not return unless I send for you. All of you," he waved a dismissing hand, "leave us."
"Yes, my lord," the man who had spoken before, bowed and then limped from the room, very much the worse for wear. The others straggled after him.
"I have waited a long time for this. How ironic you are the one to help me achieve my goals, Merchant Master."
Lcrier slipped a metal helmet over Cheyna's head. Two circular pieces of metal pressed just behind her temples. At last, Cheyna knew the source of the marks on Tanni's father's temples. She wished she didn't.
Lcrier sat down on a nearby stool and slipped a similar device over his own head. He held in his hands a dark crystal similar to the serpentine shape of a krees. This he inserted in a piece of metal fashioned in the form of a sheathe, connecting the two.
Immediately, dark bands of writhing energy invaded her mind, seeking tendrils that lurched and probed without finesse. Lacking unity, the tendrils lashed out in blind panic.
Pain exploded in a red mist behind her closed lids.
A backwash of agony slammed into Cheyna. She threw up mental barriers, reinforcing them frantically as the tendrils battered at her mind with hysterical intent.
An endless, mindless silent scream beat down on Cheyna. She forced her eyes to open, a crack at first, and then fully.
&nb
sp; Lcrier's face was dead white, his mouth open in an unvoiced scream. His hands clenched the side of his head, as if he wanted to tear the helmet off but couldn't force himself to move.
The alien touch inside her mind--Lcrier's touch--turned back on itself, a backlash of color, scent and sound that gained strength and hunted for a target. Like a dalanth scenting prey, the writhing mass turned and followed the wide, broken path into Lcrier's mind.
Lord Lcrier went rigid, then abruptly slumped, his hands falling by his sides.
Drakthe, a helpless observer to the mental battle raging between his bondwife and Lcrier, fought his bonds with maniacal strength, ripping through the restraints as if they were the finest moonsilk. In an instant, he was at Cheyna's side, the daegar from his ankle sheathe in his hand.
"Come on, bondwife, we have to get out of here."
"Why?" She sounded weak and the skin beneath her eyes looked bruised.
Drakthe muttered a curse under his breath as the buckle on the devilish device proved stubborn. "I'll tell you later, when we get out of here." He cursed again as his fingers fumbled with the strap. He had it undone and was slipping it off her head, when a voice came from the doorway.
"Do not remove the amplifier, Merchant Master. You'll just have to replace it again."
Chapter 19
Drakthe stiffened. He turned slowly and faced Trade Baron Krthe with care.
"You appear surprised, Drakthe. Surely, you did not believe Lord Lcrier could devise a plan of this magnitude?" The Trade Baron gave his dead accomplice a disdainful glance.
"No. I knew he had help."
Drakthe cursed the Trade Baron's timing in arriving before he had freed Cheyna, and sought a topic to distract the High Lord.
"More than a belief you could shape me into the perfect warrior caused you to take me in as a child," Drakthe stated.
Krthe's cold, elegant features reflected pleasure. "Even as a child of the gutter, you showed potential." He glanced at Cheyna. "Did you bondhusband ever tell you how he came to be in my employ? No? A truly fascinating tale, my dear. My first glimpse of him, just a small, furious boy, intrigued me. Drakthe was fighting a man three times his age. He ignored the distraction of my vehicle stopping, intent only on his opponent. I found his complete lack of fear at tackling a much larger adversary fascinating and decided to intervene, stop the uneven battle. Even to this day, I'm not quite sure why. Such actions were unlike me."