Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (29 page)

“Do not patronize us,” the dwarf said furiously.

“I’m not,” Ampris said. “I understand you better than you think.”

“Why?” he asked, flicking out his tongue. “Because you once lived in the palace?”

She was startled. How did he know that? “No,” she replied quietly, “because for a while, before I escaped and won my freedom, I was incarcerated at Vess Vaas.”

Some of them looked blank, but behind her Quiesl drew in a sharp breath. Luthien actually blinked, and his mouth fell open. Harval stared at her with the dawning of sympathy.

“With Ehssk the Butcher,” Luthien said.

“Yes.” She looked at them all. “I carry scars from that place of horrors. Some of those scars will forever mar my fur. Others I carry inside me, where they cannot be seen.”

“Vess Vaas was destroyed. Blew up and burned,” Harval said.

She lifted her head proudly. “I did that. Had Ehssk been there, I would have ripped out his throat with my teeth.”

Murmurs of approval passed among them. She saw those who knew what kind of chamber of horrors the laboratory had been busy whispering to the others.

“And while I was a prisoner there,” she said, “I was forced to bear cubs which were neither Aaroun nor Viis, but a combination of both. It was one of Ehssk’s experiments.” She faced them in the complete silence, seeking no pity. Her gaze locked on the dwarf’s. “My sons are rejected by Aarouns and Viis alike, yet they are mine and I love them. I did not set them aside at birth. But as they have grown up in a world that will not accept them for who and what they are, I have witnessed their pain. In this way, I understand some of yours.”

The dwarf stared at her. His tongue flicked out, but he said nothing. Anger, repugnance, and a measure of deep unhappiness swam in his eyes. After a moment, he ducked his head and looked away from her.

No one else spoke. Ampris waited a few seconds, then drew in a deep breath. “I have read old treaties while staying here as the guest of the archivists. The Viis had no legal right to enslave the Aarouns. Originally we were supposed to work for them for one generation only. And even those terms were arranged through trickery. They have taken our cultures, our languages, our religions, and our histories from us. They have stolen our music and our accomplishments, claiming them as their own. They have been cruel and indecent masters. Will you consider my words tonight? Will you join together? Long ago, the Viis divided us and taught us to forget that our peoples were once allies. When they divided us, they defeated us. But if we unite, we can win.”

Breathless from her passionate plea, Ampris stopped speaking and stepped back. She stood there, her heart pounding, wondering if she had reached them at all. They were a motley group, all right, clearly a ragtag collection of beggars, cutthroats, dust dealers, laborers, and troublemakers. But they were here, and every individual who decided he or she should work toward achieving freedom created one more chance for them all.

A buzz of conversation broke out, with everyone talking at once.

Ampris turned to Quiesl, whose black eyes were shining, and held out her hands. “Good enough?” she asked.

He nodded so vigorously his mane fell across his eyes. “More than good enough. Well done, Ampris. Well spoken. I feel honored to have heard such eloquence.”

She looked at their guests, all clustered in small groups as though they had completely forgotten her existence. They did not seem to be any more united now than they had been at the first.

“Well,” she said with a sigh. “I tried.”

“Have patience, Ampris,” Quiesl said. “This is a vast thing which we attempt, something Myals have been working toward for many years. It cannot be accomplished in an hour, a few days, several years, or perhaps many generations.”

She nodded, knowing he spoke the truth, yet she yearned to see some relief for her people. “I want my sons to live free,” she whispered.

Quiesl folded his hands together on his plump belly and watched the arguments and discussions. “At least they are talking to each other. At least they came. It is a start, Ampris. A good beginning.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I wish I could stay here and see it finished, but my time has run out.”

Quiesl looked dismayed. “We will not discuss your departure now. Later, when they have gone.”

She stepped outside into the corridor, forcing him to follow. “Quiesl, you know I must go back to my family.”

He shook his head. “When you are stronger.”

“Stronger?” She laughed. “I am fully recovered.”

“It is a difficult journey. Brother Prynan has promised to figure out a way for you to go back without having to walk through such—”

“If I don’t return within the allotted time,” she said firmly, “they will come here.”

“That is perhaps a good thing. Then you can continue the work begun here tonight.”

She sighed. They’d had this discussion before. Quiesl seemed unable, or unwilling, to understand why she did not want to bring her sons to Vir. They were at an impressionable age, still trying to find themselves. She wanted them to be more mature, more centered within themselves, before they were exposed to the evils and brutality of this city.

“Let the Crimson Claw return!” called a voice.

Ampris went back inside and faced the rebels. “Did you agree that my suggestion has merit? Will you join forces and become allies instead of enemies?”

There was some jostling and nudging. Harval stepped forward and opened his mouth, but Luthien, who was standing with one hip slouched while he chewed on a stick of some kind of illegal substance, beat him to the reply.

“Yeah,” he said. “We be willing. But we got one condition, eh?”

Ampris blinked in surprise. “Only one?”

“You understand there is much to be worked out,” the dwarf said.

“Of course.”

“We got to make agreements, signed in blood,” Harval announced, glaring at everyone.

“But we’ll do it all, if you meet our condition,” Luthien said.

Ampris couldn’t imagine what they wanted, but she was beginning to feel wary. Luthien looked like the sort to hold grudges, and she’d embarrassed him thoroughly in front of everyone.

“What is your condition?” she asked.

They all stared at her fiercely.

Harval pointed at her. “You,” he said gruffly. “You the Crimson Claw. We want you to be our leader.”

A cheer rose from their throats, and Ampris took a step back in startlement. “No,” she said, trying to make herself heard. “You’re very kind, but I can’t—”

Quiesl gripped her arm and gave it a yank. “Ampris, please be sensible. Accept.”

She stared at him with her ears back, not at all pleased, and wondered if the Myals had set this up ahead of time. “You know I can’t stay right now. Perhaps later, but—”

“You’ll lose them, if you throw this away now,” he said to her urgently.

“What’s wrong?” the dwarf demanded, watching her closely. “You don’t want to back up those big words you been spouting to us? It’s fine for us to risk death as traitors, while you finish your speeches and just go home?”

“No,” Ampris said. “Of course I will do all I can to—”

“Without Crimson Claw, count me out,” said the Aaroun who had spoken up for her earlier in the back of the room.

She saw them going sullen and disheartened again. They were fickle and unstable. They couldn’t be left on their own, not right now.

“You can count me out too, eh?” Luthien said with a snarl of disgust. “Figured you to be all words and no guts.”

“Do I have to throw you across the room again?” she demanded hotly.

His one eye glared right back at her. “That be a gladiator trick, but what about treason, eh? You got the stomach for that?”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.

“Then you prove it,” Luthien said.

“Prove it,” Harval echoed.

“Prove it,” said the dwarf Reject.

“Prove it! Prove it!” shouted the others.

She backed her ears, but she had no choice. Shooting Quiesl an exasperated look, she raised her hands to quiet them, and said, “Very well. But—”

They surged around her, laughing and clapping her on the back on their way out.

In fresh amazement, Ampris tried to keep them in the room. “Wait,” she said. “We have to discuss—”

But they were gone, hastening along the corridor without heeding her. Ampris stared at Quiesl. “Where are they going?”

He shook back his gray-streaked mane in obvious relief. “Brother Non will see them safely out. There’s little time. They stayed longer than the hour we specified. But they have to disperse before the next scan from Security.”

Ampris felt a little internal catch of alarm. “You said this room was safe.”

“Much of the Archives are,” he assured her. “Our warren of storage rooms and corridors are simply too old and too vast for sufficient monitoring. But even so, there are areas that are watched. If too many pass through such an area at the wrong time of day or night, it looks suspicious. Our precautions are best.”

She helped him right the chairs which had been knocked over. “What am I going to do? I must leave—”

“Ampris, your work is here,” he said firmly. “You must realize by now that destiny has called you to a higher purpose.”

“I am also a mother,” she said.

“Then let your sons come to you here. They are welcome to stay with us, as you are.”

“No,” she said, knowing what havoc Nashmarl and Foloth were likely to wreak in this orderly little world. “Thank you, but I must refuse that offer.”

“Would you keep them in the wild forever?” Quiesl asked her gently.

She sighed, feeling torn. “No, I know that’s not feasible. Soon they will be old enough to start making their own way. It’s just—I gave my word, and I must keep it.”

“You gave your word tonight as well,” he reminded her. “What will you do?”

She saw only one solution. “I shall leave at once, tonight. I’ve got to take the information I’ve learned to my friends. It will help them so much.”

“And then?”

She could not bear to see the disappointment lurking in his eyes. In the past few days Quiesl had become a close friend to her. She valued him for his gentle manners, his intelligent mind, his refined scholarly method of approaching problems.

“My friends may do as they wish. If they still want to come to Vir, they can. I and my sons will return at once. This I promise, Quiesl.” She gripped his hand, looking deep into his eyes so that he could read the truth in her words. “Make the others understand that I’ll be gone only for a few days. Delay the next meeting if possible. I will travel as quickly as I can, and with rations I will not have to take time to hunt, but I must finish my obligations. I cannot abandon them.”

“No, of course you cannot. We would not honor you if you did.” Quiesl smiled at her and bowed. “Come. I will inform the brothers of all that has been decided tonight. Then we shall help you prepare for your journey.”

The Kaa’s shuttle landed inside the palace compound shortly after sunset. In the gloom of twilight, lights were set up in the ceremonial courtyard. Courtiers assembled in their finery. The imperial carpet was rolled down the steps of the palace.

Israi emerged from the shuttle to the usual fanfare and flourishing of trumpets. Priestesses in sleeveless robes lifted their arms and sang. Young female chunen, daughters of some of her most favored aristocrats, came running forward to hand her fragrant bouquets of exquisite flowers.

Israi forced herself to pause. She gestured for one of her ladies in waiting to take the bouquets. The disappointment, however, on the young faces turned up to hers made her reconsider. She reached out and took one of the bouquets into her hand.

“Who gives us these white flowers?” she asked. Although her heart was lead and she felt weary to the root of her tail, she forced herself to smile at a petite, bronze-skinned chune. “What is your name, little one?”

“I am Sheveil, majesty,” the chune answered in a piping voice. She bowed low, then peeped up at Israi shyly and with a twinkling eye. “I selected them my very own self from my mother’s garden.”

“They are exquisite,” the Kaa said. She placed her hand momentarily on the chune’s head, then walked on.

Some of the courtiers applauded as they waited for her on the steps. She started her ascent, her heavy gown dragging at her tired body, and glanced back irritably when one of her attendants was too slow in picking up her train.

“Welcome home, my sister,” said an all-too-familiar voice, a voice she had hoped never to hear again as long as she lived. Oviel stepped forward from the crowd and bowed low to her. “If I may be bold enough to offer a welcome.”

Full adulthood had brought the beginnings of a slight sag to his jawline. His rill was flushed above its plain gold collar, and he looked nervous, as he should have. She noticed, in one sweeping glance of contempt, that his tailor was neither skilled nor knowledgeable as to the latest fashions.

But Israi was in no mood to cope with the unpleasant shock of coming face-to-face with Oviel the very moment she returned home. She still resented having to pardon him. She’d never expected him to be this bold.

As she gazed now into his bright, ambitious eyes, she knew nothing had changed for him. He had simply waited out the term of his exile, but now that he was back it would be as though the intervening years never happened.

He smiled at her, tilting his head to one side when she made no reply, and she hated him to her very core.

“The Kaa is displeased that I have presented myself so forwardly?” he asked, as though daring her to reprimand him.

Everyone was watching openly. The gossip and chatter fell silent. Israi pretended she did not notice their stares. They would soon have far weightier matters to worry them. As for Oviel, he was not worth her time.

Her gaze grew cold indeed, and still she said nothing.

One of the stewards crept forward through the throng, then lightly touched Oviel’s arm and whispered in his ear canal. Oviel’s rill flushed a dark red. Bowing low, he stepped out of Israi’s way and said nothing else.

Israi swept on, climbing the steps as though nothing had happened. Behind her, the silence continued a second longer, then conversations buzzed anew.