Stars & Ashes

by Teagan Kearney

  “Come on, Kia. You are about to experience a little luxury.” Cheydii smiled. “You deserve it.”

  Kia’s brain was awhirl as she followed Cheydii out of the arena, through a side door and into the Heir’s palace. She had to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth closed as they walked through a series of ever wider and more elegantly decorated passages where the walls were painted in vibrant shades of red interspersed with paintings of exquisite woodland scenes and portraits of men and women from a previous era in carved golden frames.

  By the time they reached the top of a wide pale marble staircase, Kia’s mind was a kaleidoscope of impressions. Yes, she’d understood Lord Rial was a powerful person, but seeing the opulent surroundings made it real.

  “Right-hand side houses Lord Rial’s living quarters—and that means ours as well, plus our dining hall and leisure facilities.” Cheydii waved over to the left. “That side is the military headquarters and that’s where the various generals come to plan campaigns.” She stopped and looked at Kia. “Listen, some things will be more difficult than others. The Emperor says what he wants, and Lord Rial is tasked with executing his wishes.” She walked along the right-hand passageway, opening the first door after Lord Rial’s suite.

  “It hasn’t sunk in yet.” Kia’s brain was awhirl as she followed Cheydii into the room and rubbed her eyes. She stood in a spacious room decorated in pale lemon. Large windows offered a view over beautiful gardens, and she stared at the small gold-brocaded couch, polished desk and chair with her mouth open. All this was hers? Her bedroom in the home she’d grown up in had been tiny, with scarcely enough space for a bed and a small cupboard for her clothes.

  “Bedroom is though there,” Cheydii pointed at the farthest of two doors, “and the other is your bathroom.”

  The crack in Kia’s heart widened, and she wanted to cry. Her expression must have given away her feelings because Cheydii wrapped her arms around her and hugged her.

  “You can’t forget everything, but don’t dwell in the past. You’re alive and healthy, and you have a purpose. In case you’ve forgotten that detail, you swore a binding oath to protect and serve the Heir, and that’s what you have to focus on.”

  “Of course.” Kia tried to imbue her response with enthusiasm, but her ghosts were crowding close.

  Cheydii softened. “I can tell you from experience if you throw your heart into it, things do become easier. Oh, and tomorrow night, we escort Lord Rial to the emperor’s palace for a dinner with some visiting dignitaries, and you’ll meet the Emperor Teyrn himself.”

  “Wh… what?” Kia shook her head. She supposed she’d get accustomed to moving in these elevated circles, but she still hadn’t adjusted to the most recent developments in her life.

  “He meets with all his son’s new guards when they’re first chosen. Don’t worry, he checks you over, mumbles a few words, you bow and that’s it. But you have to get through tonight first.”

  Cheydii took her along to the study room where she, Tamaiko, Jalux and Ohiko were introduced to the nine men and seven women who made up the Chenjerai. Shaba, a tall thin woman with a pale flawless complexion, who wore her hair in a tightly plaited top-knot, offered her a dress for the evening’s festivities.

  Back in her suite, viewing herself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom was another shock. Between her sojourn in the mines and the rigorous recent training, she was leaner, her muscles more defined, but what shocked her most was her hair. Growing out since Jahanamu, her hair fell in soft curls around her face, but instead of the pure white it had always been, it was pale gold. She peered closer. Before, her skin tone had been darker, now it was paler and closer to his. The breath whooshed out of her, and she flopped down on the bed because her legs wouldn’t hold her up. A thousand curses on Lord Rial and his nanobots. It couldn’t be anything else. The enhanced physical responses she accepted, because she liked the benefits. But this was different, harder. Curse him, curse him, curse him.

  Later on, she stood in front of the mirror—after the longest shower she could remember taking—and twirled around, watching the beads on her skirt sparkle and catch the light as the material flared. Not that she would describe the garment as a skirt. The myriad thin pieces of white heavily decorated silky strips were sewn onto a wide gold belt and fell to her ankles. She gazed at her slender curves, her eyes heavily outlined in black, and her pale gold curls slicked into a sleek helmet. She thought of her mother. What wouldn’t she give for her mother to see her? She sighed and pushed the thoughts away, something she was becoming more adept at doing these days.

  Underneath the shimmering cloth, she wore a white sleeveless close-fitting unitard. She fastened the gold collar of the top around her neck, smoothed the narrow strips of beaded material, and studied the result. If she stood still, the effect was of a sleeveless loose tunic over an ankle-length skirt, but when she moved, the beaded material shone and glistened, separating to reveal the undergarment. She was half scared, half thrilled. She’d worn nothing like this before; Sestris was a conservative city and, even in the port district, didn't possess night life like Djem.

  “Kia!”

  Nagavi? “Ready,” she called, collected the gold and white mask, and moved toward the door, the skirt swirling around her legs.

  Nagavi examined her from top to toe. “Don’t you scrub up well. You ready?”

  A srilao saying sprang to mind. When in doubt, act with confidence. No one can read your mind. “Always.”

  “This way, then.”

  Nagavi was accompanying them, that was a surprise. “Keep your wits about you, girl,” her mother had said whenever she set off for a srilao contest. I’ll try, Mama, she told the image in her mind. He might be the oldest of the Heir’s close associates, she thought as she followed him, but you’d never guess it by watching him move. Except for the two guards who stood outside the Heir’s quarters, the corridor was empty. Where were the others? Maybe they were waiting downstairs?

  Nagavi nodded to the guards, opened the double doors to Lord Rial’s quarters, and gestured for her to enter.

  “Wha—”

  “It’s rude to keep your master waiting.”

  His hand on her back was firm as he gave her a push, and then she was inside, the way out closed behind her.

  She tried to calm herself. Whatever this is about, he wasn’t about to hurt her. He’d had numerous chances to do that. He could have killed her this morning if he’d wished, and nobody would have protested.

  Lord Rial appeared at the other end of the hallway and strode toward her.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she ignored the herd of wild animals trampling through her innards and adopted her new bland expression. She hadn’t expected the opportunity to kill him appearing this soon and thoughts of what she could use for a weapon caromed around her skittish mind.

  “I won’t delay you for long, Kia.” He took her arm.

  As if I have a choice, she thought, as he guided her into a room on the right. If he hadn’t had hold of her, she would have stopped to take it all in. The living space, decorated in pale green, was twice the size of her entire quarters with a floor to ceiling window and possessed the same view of the garden she enjoyed.

  "What am I doing here?” She tried for confident, but she was off balance and the words came out small and anxious. She refrained from a full scale attempt to wrench herself away from him because… well, that would create a ridiculous scene—and she’d learned it was easier for her if he thought he was in control and dismissed the fleeting thought he was in control.

  “Have a seat.”

  A gentle push and she was sinking into a plush emerald green couch.

  He sat down, leaving a reasonable distance between them, glanced out at the garden, then his gaze returned to her, raking her outfit. A slight quirking up of the lips and his eyes creased, then he became serious.

  “Kia, are you planning to disappear in Djem tonight?”

  Was he ever going to forget
that day? “It was different before. Now I’m one of your elite guards,” she sat up straighter, “and I made a vow to you, Lord Rial.”

  “Among ourselves, it’s Rial. Are you aware my father’s guards wear special implants that allow him to adjust the level of control. For those who have a skill he needs, and who need encouragement, these implants can give him total control.”

  She swallowed. He was threatening her, not so subtly informing her if she didn’t behave, this is what she could expect. She cursed Oloran, Jahanamu, the empire, the emperor, and it felt great to curse Rial without repercussions. “I keep my promises, too.”

  “Look at me and tell me that I can trust you.”

  She blew out a short breath and met his gaze, hoping he couldn’t detect her anxiety. “You can trust me, Lord Rial.”

  “Rial.”

  “Rial,” she repeated, though she was distinctly uncomfortable addressing the next ruler of the Nadil-Kuradi Empire by his first name.

  “Good.”

  She allowed herself to relax a fraction.

  “If you’re still sober when you come home, drop in and see me, I have a gift for you.”

  Home? She wasn’t sure that’s what she’d call his palace, and what could he possibly have for her? She’d make sure she was drunk, and she was not dropping in for a late night visit. Her cheeks flushed with heat and she looked away.

  “Off you go, then.”

  Doing her best to hide the relief at being dismissed, she was halfway across the room when he spoke.

  “Be careful tonight, Kia. The Festival of Masks is notorious for many reasons, so do nothing to draw attention to yourself.”

  She nodded and exited as fast as she could without running.

  Nagavi piloted the large flit bringing the Chenjerai and the unsuccessful candidates to the city, and Kia spent the time figuring out who was who among the exuberant group of elaborately costumed and coifed partygoers.

  Ahead, the lights of Djem sparkled on the horizon. This was her first visit to the capital though she wasn’t free to wander and explore as she might have done on Emankora when she’d visited other cities for contests. She leaned forward, a thrill of excitement running through her.

  If Djem was the empire’s crown, then the palace was the crown jewel, and as they approached, the curved white dome of the main palace shone with light. Here and there rainbows refracted off prisms set in the walls of illuminated buildings, and high-arched, pastel-hued, crystal walkways crisscrossed the city and flits and fliers of various sizes flew at different heights.

  As they flew over the brilliantly lit city, Kia peered down at the walkways filled with slow moving dot-sized streams of people. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

  “And dangerous.” Shaba had adopted the role of big sister, and Kia welcomed the older woman’s offer of friendship. She missed Red, but a srilao adage said relationships were like straws floating down the stream of life: sometimes together, sometimes apart, and the together could be brief or long-term. Red wouldn’t have expected her to mourn for long. When you’re training to kill others, you accept your journey into the next life might come sooner than you wished.

  Competition for the vacant positions had tainted the relationships between the contenders, but that tense edginess didn’t exist among these men and women whose bond had been forged over time. The camaraderie and affection were evident in the warmth with which they joked and teased each other.

  Kia envied these skilled warriors their comradeship. A pang of regret shivered through her. She would never truly be one of them unless she gave up her desire to kill Rial.

  “See, there.” Shaba pointed out the window at a fountain whose elegant sprays constantly changed color in a fascinating display. “That’s where we’re headed. We’ve booked a private room at the most popular and most expensive nightclub in town.”

  Kia looked down at the large square filled with jostling people. Sorrow at the terrible events that had brought her here warred with the spirit of adventure that possessed her tonight. Life passes far too quickly, her mother used to say, be happy, and enjoy the moment while you can. Thank you, Kia thought, but she didn’t know if she was thanking her mother, the Goddess, or the universe.

  Fifteen minutes later, Nagavi parked in a nearby flitport, donned a colorful black and orange striped animal mask, and the group strolled behind him through the packed noisy city.

  Kia ogled the street performers who lined the walkways or staged their acts in the middle of the streets. Fascinated, she couldn’t take her eyes off the array of gaudily dressed and masked musicians, story tellers, acrobats, and jugglers tossing flaming torches entertaining the crowds. The multicolored lights, the fragrant smells of incense mixed with the aromas from vendors hawking freshly cooked food, and the variety of masks and outfits—plain, colored, exotic, feathered, beribboned—was intoxicating. If Shaba wasn’t holding her hand, she would have stopped to gawk at the spectacle.

  “What does ‘Chido Chemoya’ mean?” Kia nodded at the gigantic illuminated flashing sign covering the wall of the building they were headed for.

  “Heart’s Desire,” Shaba answered. “You can acquire anything you want here. Men, women, intoxicants, whatever it is, you can buy it here.”

  “And that’s legal?”

  “The word legal doesn’t exist in Djem. If you have money, you can buy yourself out of anything.”

  “Oh.” The glittering city shone a little less.

  “Don’t worry. Any Chenjerai caught doing anything illegal is out.”

  “And if they are doing something but don’t get caught?” Wasn’t that also a possibility?

  “Nobody’s stupid enough to think they can fool Lord Rial and Nagavi.”

  Okay, Shaba had a point. Although Kia would have been content to wander the streets openmouthed all night, Nagavi led them past the lengthy queue and the security guards straight inside the nightclub.

  The scene that met her gaze as she entered the club, chased everything else out of her head.

  Crammed with masked dancers moving to a loud throbbing beat under a vast holovid screen filled with abstract patterns that swirled and disoriented the brain, Kia’s mouth hung open.

  Shaba pulled her along behind the others as they skirted the writhing pulsating throng and stopped at a door marked ‘Private’ guarded by two intimidating, black-masked sentries.

  After climbing a steep curved staircase, they entered a luxurious plasglass-windowed lounge. Soft piped melody replaced the deafening music, and deep couches and easy chairs provided an excellent view of the revelers. An extensive buffet lined the rear wall, along with a table laden with bottles and glasses. It wasn’t long before the Chenjerai and their guests were chatting and joking, piling large plates high with refreshments, and helping themselves to drinks.

  Jalux, wearing a big grin, handed Kia a glass of sparkling turquoise liquid. “It’s from my planet, can you believe it?” His grin widened. “Wow! Kia, we made it. Here’s to us.”

  Kia’s people seldom drank alcohol, and srilao practitioners didn’t touch intoxicants, but as she sipped her drink, she didn’t have to be an expert to recognize the substance she was imbibing was potent.

  “Drink up,” he said, clinking her glass again and tossing back the rest of his drink.

  Kia followed suit, immediately getting a head rush. I could get used to this, she thought, her head fizzing like the bubbles.

  “Eat something.” Shaba offered her a plate of appetizing tidbits. “If you hope to keep going through the night, you should eat as well as drink.”

  “Sure.” She took a biscuit, nibbling at the soft crumbly square as she cast a longing glance at the people below. “Are we allowed to go down there?”

  “What are you asking for?” Jalux interrupted. “You’re not a slave who needs permission, you’re a member of the Heir’s personal elite guard. As a Chenjerai, you can do what you want.”

  I am a slave, and I might well need permission flicked throu
gh Kia’s mind.

  Shaba gave Jalux an odd look. “Sure, you can. Some of the guys are already in the gambling rooms. I’ll show you both what entertainments are available if you’d like?”

  Kia glanced over at Nagavi, but he stood facing away from her telling a story to a small group that had his audience in fits of laughter. “What I want to do is dance.”

  Jalux deftly removed her glass, put it next to his on a nearby table, and grabbed her hand.

  Kia let him pull her toward the exit, checking with Shaba to see if she objected, but she nodded at the pair. “Have fun,” she said.

  “Come on.” Jalux was twitching with pent-up energy. “Let’s go.”

  Kia followed, pushing through the writhing dancers until he found a space for them. The thumping rhythm of the base beat was hypnotic, and Kia responded as muscle memories that had slept for a long while awakened.

  A sparkling pink haze, dispensed from air vents in the ceiling, drifted down over the throng.

  “Oohs” and “aahs” rose from the crowd, and Kia raised her hands like the other dancers, wriggling her fingers, watching the tiny glitters land on her skin and dissolve. Instantly the lights appeared brighter, the colors more vibrant and the sounds louder.

  Kia closed her eyes and swayed to the music, losing herself as her body remembered. It was as if she’d never stopped dancing as each movement and gesture flowed into the next following familiar sequences. She had forgotten how liberating dance could be. She let everything fall away except the rhythm, the beat of the bass, the sense of losing herself, and the delight of responding to the music—she had missed this freedom. The tempo changed and a tinny soprano began warbling a love song. Kia opened her eyes, astounded at the circle of people who surrounded her clapping enthusiastically. Whereas once she’d have accepted an audience’s appreciation with graceful thanks, these days the attention of this many people made her apprehensive.

  “That was incredible,” Jalux took her hand, “were you a professional dancer before?”