At Empire's Edge (19 page)

Having been granted the fifteen-minute break, Alamy dashed down a flight of concrete steps and opened a door marked MAINTENANCE PERSONNEL ONLY. She entered a space dominated by a maze of overhead ducts as well as the color-coded pipes that carried freshwater into, and wastewater out of, the palace.

After a quick check to make sure she was alone, Alamy slipped along the right-hand wall to the distal end of a huge pipe. It was no longer in use, not since the new pumping station had been brought online, which was why the terminating end had been severed. By climbing up into the pipe and walking bent over, Alamy was able to make her way to the old pumping station without being seen. Persus was waiting and offered a hand. Alamy took it and jumped down onto the floor, which was bare except for some metal brackets to which huge pumps had been bolted. What light there was slanted down through a skylight high above. Dust motes rode the air, shadows commanded the corners, and there were no sounds other than the ones the women made.

In marked contrast to her normally sunny disposition, Persus was clearly distraught, so Alamy put an arm around the other woman’s shoulders, and gave her a hug. “What’s wrong, Persus? What happened?”

Persus shook her head. “I’m scared that’s all. Early this morning, one of the overseers rousted me out of bed and sent me down to clean up a mess in Storage Room 3B13. I assumed that the plumbing was leaking, or something of that sort, but the walls were splattered with blood! Even the ceiling had blood on it! And as I went in two of the groundskeepers were carrying a garbage can out. I think there was a body inside. . . . Or parts of a body.”

Persus was sobbing by then, and as Alamy sought to console her, something akin to ice water trickled into the slave’s veins. Because even though people claimed that Lea had run, Alamy knew it wasn’t true, and based on what Persus had seen, it seemed logical to believe that Lea had been murdered!

But why? Having witnessed the scene in the hallway, Alamy had assumed that Hingo was going to rape Lea, but that seemed trivial now. Alamy sensed that something even darker was afoot—something extremely dangerous.

Cato and Phelonious followed a trail of snow-blurred foot-steps up a narrow passageway toward the fortress above. Six angens, all eager to return to their stable, followed along behind. Just as he had been earlier, Belok was hidden in a saddlebag, with a pistol clutched in each fist.

Having successfully crossed what amounted to an air moat, and dealt with the sentries posted at the end of the bridge, Cato knew the next task was to penetrate the keep’s defenses and find the Lir named Hybor Iddyn.

His plans were somewhat vague after that, since prisoners would be hard to guard with such a small force, and the march out of the mountains would be difficult. Especially if vengeful warriors were attacking from above, but there was no point in dwelling on such issues until such time as they became real.

And right then, in that moment, Cato and his companions were walking through what felt like a slow-motion dream. There were no sounds to be heard other than the rhythmic
crunch
,
crunch
,
crunch
of the snow under his boots, the soft
whir
of the android’s servos, and the occasional
creak
of a harness as the angens plodded upward.

Meanwhile, snow fell like a silent veil around them, hiding their true identities from High Hold Meor’s citizenry, some of whom had emerged to watch the incoming caravan. One of them issued what might have been a greeting, and Cato waved, as if to acknowledge it. The warrior raised his arm as well, the magic held, and the intruders climbed higher.

The keep was built on a series of hand-excavated terraces. Each blocky warehouse, shop, or home stood wall to wall with the rest and was stacked vertically. The structures had slitlike windows plus plenty of balconies, terraces, and verandas from which the locals could launch themselves into the air without having to beat their way upward. All of it was now covered by a thick blanket of white, which acted to soften otherwise harsh lines and make High Hold Meor look picturesque.

All dreams must end, and the one Cato had been walking through was shattered not by a gunshot, but a ten-year-old Lir who ran out to greet her father. But he was dead, having been buried in a shallow grave many miles to the southwest, right next to his war brothers. So what she saw instead was a monster, just like the ones the elders told stories about, which elicited a high-pitched cry. That caused all of the adults to take another look, as Cato yelled, “Run!”

The plan was to take cover between
two
files of angens, with Phelonious bringing the last three up to parallel the lead animals. This strategy worked as warriors opened fire from all sides. Including from above, which was Belok’s responsibility, as the Kelf directed his fire toward the lead gray sky. The effort produced immediate results, as one warrior took a bolt through his left wing and went spiraling down, while another was killed outright and fell like a stone.

Meanwhile, as the sturdy angens were struck by bolts of energy
and
dozens of bullets, they squealed pitifully, and one of them fell. The body was like an anchor that brought the rest of the string to a halt, forcing Cato, Phelonious, and Belok to make a run for it.

The Kelf was up on the android’s shoulders by then, firing his pistols at the Lir who circled above, as a force of six warriors rushed out to block further progress. Two of the defenders went down immediately when Phelonious fired short three-round bursts at them, and the rest were torn apart as one of Cato’s grenades landed in the middle of the group, going off with a loud
bang
. The echoes of the explosion were still dying away as Cato pointed to the blocky building that sat atop the rest, and yelled, “That looks like the place we want. Get inside!”

Incoming energy beams stuttered past, and bullets pinged off stone pavers while the threesome dashed across an open area, making for what Cato believed to be the “roost” where Chieftain Hybor Iddyn and his family lived. The habitat wasn’t undefended, however, and, when warriors spilled out through the front door, it was necessary to open up on them.

Lir bodies danced and jerked, and a steady stream of bright casings arced through the air, as Cato felt something hot nick his side. He’d been hit, he knew that, but there was no time in which to inspect the wound as one of the defenders fell back against the half-open door. That served to push the barrier open, which gave Cato an opportunity to throw a grenade into the space beyond. The otherwise-dark room was momentarily illuminated by a flash of light as the bomb went off, sending chunks of jagged metal in every direction.

The explosion had the desired effect, with Cato and Phelonious able to enter the structure and pull the door closed behind them. It was extremely thick and secured by a sturdy crossbar that was intended to keep attackers out.

There wasn’t a lot of light, but what there was came from both narrow slitlike windows and chemical glow strips that dangled in among dried foodstuffs suspended from a smoke-stained ceiling. Once Cato turned his back to the door, he was confronted by a gruesome sight. Because in addition to the warriors who lay dead, four or five females had been slaughtered as well, along with half a dozen juveniles—all of whom lay in a pool of blood.

The scene was very reminiscent of what Cato had seen inside Station 3. But it wasn’t what his dead team members would have wanted, or what
he
wanted, for that matter, with one of the older females cradling a warrior’s head in her lap and making soft keening sounds in the back of her throat. A form of communication that required no translation.

Cato was not only sickened by what he’d done, but effectively frozen in place as a series of
thump
s were heard. “They have axes,” Phelonious observed dispassionately. “And they are trying to hack their way in.”

“Hybor Iddyn,” Cato said desperately, as he looked from face to face. “I’m an Imperial police officer—and I’m looking for Hybor Iddyn.”

The statement was met with silence except for the muffled chopping sounds, but all eyes shifted to the female at the center of the room, and the dead warrior who lay beside her. The misery in her big yellow eyes was clear to see, and Cato could not only “feel” what she felt, but the sorrow, anger, and rage that boiled around him. It was almost overwhelming, and while most variants could suppress it, Cato lacked that ability. Slowly, as if choosing each word with care, the female spoke. “Hybor Iddyn,
here
. He dead. You kill.”

Cato looked at the body, wondered if the female was lying to him, and knew she wasn’t. Because he could “feel” that she wasn’t lying just as he could “feel” how much all the rest of the Lir in the room hated him. Iddyn was dead—and it was
his
fault. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Cato as he swore under his breath and swiveled toward Phelonious. “Fire a couple of rounds through that gun port. That will force the warriors with the axes to back off and buy us more time.”

The android obeyed, the chopping sounds stopped, and Cato turned his attention to Belok, who was standing on a tabletop with both pistols aimed at the group of survivors huddled at the center of the room. “Explore this place,” Cato ordered. Look for another way out. And for any point where the Lir warriors could break in.
Hurry!
”

Belok’s feet made a soft
thump
as they hit the floor, and he took off at a fast waddle. There were half a dozen weapons lying around, so Cato hurried to collect them, as survivors gave each other first aid. His side hurt, but there wasn’t much blood; that was typical of wounds inflicted by energy weapons.

“We have a visitor,” Phelonious said, from his post next to the door. “A single warrior with his hands on top of his head. Should I shoot him? Or let him in?”

“Ask him what he wants,” Cato replied, as he put the last of the captured weapons down.

Some muffled conversation followed as Phelonious spoke to the Lir, turned his back to the door, and delivered his report. “His name is Issit. . . . And he wants to talk to you.”

Cato went to the door, took a quick peek through the gun port, and stepped back. “Let him in. But then close the door quickly.”

A blast of cold air pushed its way into the room as the robot opened the door and allowed Issit to enter. The warrior was clearly taken aback by what he saw as Cato patted him down. “This bad,” Issit said. “
Very
bad.”

Cato felt the same way but wasn’t about to say that, so didn’t. “Your people broke the law, Issit. They murdered nearly a dozen police officers for money. So, what did you expect? A pat on the back? I want Pak Nassali and Etir Lood. Give them to me, and I’ll leave.” It was a bold request under the circumstances, but Cato had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“They gone,” Issit replied woodenly. “No give.”

“So why are you here?” Cato demanded.

“Let females and juveniles go,” Issit insisted levelly. “Then die like warrior.”

“Thanks,” Cato replied dryly. “I’ll give your suggestion the consideration it deserves. You say that Nassali and Lood aren’t here. Where are they? In Solace?”

“No,” Issit answered staunchly. But the Lir was lying—and Cato could “feel” it. It was clear that the warriors
were
in Solace, and, assuming that Cato could find them, he might be able to pry additional information out of the pair. Such as who paid for the attack on Station 3 and why. This was a goal made even more urgent by the fact that Fiss Verafti was not only missing but very dangerous.

Cato’s thoughts were interrupted as Belok returned, and judging from the Kelf’s expression, he was excited. “I found an air car! It’s one level down in a workshop!”

“Air car broken,” Issit put in bleakly. “Need fix.”

“I could take a look at it,” Phelonious offered. “I’m pretty good with machinery.”

“You do that,” Cato agreed. “I’ll guard the door.”

As the robot departed for the other side of the room and the stairs, Cato turned to Belok. “Did you find a back door? Some way to get out of here without being seen?”

Belok shook his head. “Not unless we sprout wings and fly! There are two doors on the west face of the building, but both are located a good twenty feet off the ground, and warriors are all around. I think they’re massing for an attack.”

“You die like warrior,” Issit insisted helpfully. “That best.”

“You’re starting to piss me off,” Cato growled as he aimed the assault weapon at the Lir. “Lie down on the floor and keep your beak shut! Belok, tie him up. We have enough people to keep track of as it is.”

Then, as if to reinforce Cato’s words, there was a resounding
BOOM
, something hit the front door, and a cloud of dust appeared. Cato went over to look through the gun port and swore. “They have a log, damn it! And they’re using it as a battering ram.”

And then, as the variant began to pull back, a bullet passed within an inch of his nose, smacking into the wall behind him. That was when Cato realized that besides the effort to break in, the blow to the door had been intended to bring someone to the gun port so a sharpshooter could put them down! The fact that he was still alive had been a matter of good luck rather than skill.

Now, if he went to the port to fire at the warriors with the battering ram, the sharp-eyed sniper would get
another
opportunity to blow his head off! But if he didn’t chase the warriors away, the assault would continue. There was a second
BOOM
, the door shook, and wood splintered. Two additional hits, three at the most, and the Lir warriors would be inside.

Belok had immobilized Issit by then, and Cato motioned to the Kelf, as another rifle bullet entered through the port. It hit the far wall, bounced off stone, and made a high-pitched whine as it traversed the room again. “Come on, we aren’t going to hold them here, we’ve got to fall back.”