Demon Lost (3 page)

"Well, Ilvan, what have you to say?" Addah Desh watched Ilvan carefully. Three days had passed since word had come from the Governor, reporting that Reah's escape pod had been tampered with, sending her flying away from Tulgalan at light speed or better toward some unknown destination. The one who'd reprogrammed the pod hadn't known much about the workings of the newer pods and had badly miscalculated the programming. The ship sent to find Reah had yet to catch up to her.

"I always thought Edan would kill her," Ilvan admitted with a sigh. He stared at his tailored trousers and toyed with the edge of the matching tunic. The sons had all gotten the finest when it came to clothing. Reah had used what little Edan gave her to buy at used clothing stores.

"Edan?" Addah crossed his arms over his chest.

"Father, Edan beat her. All those broken bones and bruises over the years? She wasn't clumsy. Edan did that to her. The only reason we didn't take the prize this year is because Reah wasn't there to cook. Those recipes were hers and not Edan's. He threatened her. We all knew it. We knew, too, that Edan would threaten us if we didn't ignore it. She's likely dead, now. I know you don't care and Edan cares less. I'm done, Father. I have a little money. I'm moving away from the family. Perhaps I'll start a business of my own, doing something that has nothing to do with cooking. Good-bye, Father." Ilvan rose and walked out of Addah's office.

Addah waited until he was sure that Ilvan was away from the building before screaming for his assistant.

"Master Desh?" Barun appeared in Addah's doorway so swiftly, it was as if he'd been summoned by magic.

"Barun, get Edan on the vidcom," Addah demanded.

"Right away, Master Desh."

* * *

The pods provided for the governor's household were equipped with foodpaks and a waste receptacle. Without either of those, I would have panicked more than I did. I was hysterical most of the time. I wept. I vomited and wept more until I was completely numb. I lost track of time—the date/time lights had been deactivated, as had the tracking signal.

Sure that someone had meant to do this to me, I resigned myself to a slow and agonizing death. I'd be floating aimlessly through the universe until the pod's energy ran out, leaving me in a frigid cold from which I wouldn't wake. There were no windows on the pod and the vidscreen failed to activate. I couldn't even see the stars I traveled through on my way to oblivion.

What did work was the gauge for the oxygen levels. It reached a quarter and then an eighth. My time was coming to a close and I knew it. Nobody was left behind to say farewell to—no family to think fondly of. Many times over the years, I figured that Marzi, Edan's mother, had encouraged Edan to do what he did to me. I'm sure she didn't have to do much in that respect—he took pleasure in causing my pain. He and some of the others would often muffle laughter, watching me move stiffly about the day after a beating. Perhaps I should have attempted to think happier thoughts, there in my last bit of time. I didn't.

* * *

"Edan, do you know why I asked you here?" Addah now looked over his desk at his second-born.

"I assume it is to tell me which of the family you are sending to replace Ilvan and Reah."

"I will be sending replacements, but that is not why I asked you to come."

Edan watched his father. A request from Addah Desh was a demand from anyone else. Addah presented a much better demeanor to the public than he ever did in private. "You are disappointed, then, that we did not perform to expectations during the last review," Edan offered. "Ilvan was partly to blame."

"Ilvan had nothing to do with it," Addah turned his head and stared out the large window inside his office. He'd had a garden planted outside long ago, hiring a Refizani gardener to tend it for him. The Refizani knew medicine and they knew gardening. "I called you here to tell you why I sent Reah to you at such a young age," Addah said, turning back to his son.

"I often wondered why you did that," Edan muttered.

"You remember her mother, don't you, Edan? Little Raedah? She was beautiful, wasn't she? That river of white-blonde hair, and the green eyes that flashed when she was excited or amused. Not very strong emotionally, though. Reah is much like her, don't you think?"

"Father, you know that was long ago. Nearly twenty turns."

"Yes. She was barely twenty-two when Reah was born. You were eighteen, as I recall." Addah watched his son closely.

"Yes, you sent me to Shirves and brought Fes back to Capital City shortly after the birth of Reah."

"Yes. And after Raedah's death as well. You recall that, don't you?"

"Of course, Father."

"Do you still have no idea why I sent Reah to you?" Addah frowned at Edan.

"None, father. Please tell me, as she is most likely dead, just as her mother is."

"Reah was not my child. I had the DNA tests run, Edan. Reah is yours. Whether by rape or by consent I do not know, but that child was yours. I was hoping you would take responsibility for her, yet you did not. And only recently have I discovered that you abused her while she was in your care. Most likely with Marzi's blessings; she has always been heavy-handed with any child except her own. I have learned, too, that all the recipes getting the top awards were Reah's. You hid her from me. I could have had her here and both restaurants would have benefitted." Edan knew his father was furious. He forced himself not to squirm in his chair.

"You have damaged our business, Edan," Addah continued, his eyes boring into Edan's. "I find that intolerable. If you'd let me know, I wouldn't have used my influence to have Reah conscripted instead of Wald. His name was chosen, not Reah's. You're harming my reputation, now, and for what, I ask? I am ashamed to call you my son. Does your mother know she was condoning the abuse of her granddaughter? Did you ever tell her that you and Raedah were together? Did you?" Addah's face turned pink as if from exertion.

"Father, that must be a lie. Resubmit the tests—that cannot be true. I have fathered no children," Edan insisted, standing up stiffly, as if the action would drive home his point.

"Do you think I did not have them run repeatedly? The results were the same every time. Reah is your daughter. Perhaps was your daughter, as things stand. I had an exceptional master cook within the family and I missed it. The Governor of the Realm, thinking to pay me compliments, raved over the food he was getting from his kitchen while she was there. None of it any of the recipes we use. She did not betray us in that way, developing new things that we can never lay claim to, now that she is lost. You have attempted to recreate what she developed in Shirves and have failed. Would you have continued to lie to me, Edan? What do you think I should do with you?"

* * *

"It is no use, Mother—he has had the legal papers changed. Nothing comes to me if he dies. I can only enjoy what I have while he lives. After that, everything goes to Fes and the others. He claims that Reah was my child. Mine. You told me to go to Raedah, Mother. You wanted to discredit her—get her out of the family. You said she didn't belong. Yes, I followed your instructions. She wasn't willing, so I took Raedah by force. Reah was born as a result. Father showed me the papers, mother. The tests were run eight times with the same results." Edan paced in front of his mother.

"But what will he do if Reah is recovered? Will he bring her back—install her as a master cook when her Alliance service is over?"

"He almost said as much," Edan muttered.

"Then it is your duty to see that she is brought back as the daughter that she is. This is your way to get your part when the time comes—through your daughter. She is enough under your thumb, I think, that she cannot say no to you." Edan glanced up at his mother. Marzi still appeared young and beautiful, with dark hair carefully styled and clear, gray eyes that tempted many. She'd turned Addah's head the moment she'd walked into his restaurant all those years ago, intent on wiggling her way into the life and fortunes of the man who'd managed to entice an entire city with his cooking.

"But what if she won't have anything to do with us? The military changes people, Mother. She may refuse us."

"Then court her. Tell her you didn't know she was yours. That you were in love with her mother and resented her because you weren't her father. Now, you have evidence to the contrary. She will have the father she never had before, Edan. As my son, surely you know how to lie convincingly."

"Mother, everything I know I learned from you."

"Yes, my son. You certainly have."

* * *

The temperature regulator was failing and the air becoming stale. The dead communicator still floated around me as I prepared myself for what was to come. Should I close my eyes? Attempt to sleep so I wouldn't know—gasping for my few final breaths in terror and pain? What should one contemplate, during one's final moments?

Tulgalan no longer put criminals to death, as much as I might like to see the one who'd done this to me suffer. Tulgalan's worst were now shipped to a planet filled with criminals—Evensun it was called. I hoped it waited for the one who'd implemented my death. Evensun was watched closely by the ASD—Alliance Security Detail. No technology or space travel was available to those sent there, and it was survival of the largest and strongest. A sentence to Evensun may as well be a death sentence. Rumor had it that anyone sent there died quickly. I comforted myself as much as I could with those morbid thoughts.

That was the sort of thing running through my mind when the small communicator suddenly dropped, hitting me in the temple before bouncing away and clattering against the side of the pod. Jerking in my seat, I stared stupidly at the communicator. Its fall was impossible—it should still be floating while we sailed along through space. At least that's what my addled brain told me. I admit, my mind wasn't very clear at the moment and when the pod began to bounce along as if it were hitting bumps in a road, I was at a loss to explain it. Later I reasoned it out—we—the pod and I, were falling through the atmosphere of a planet.

Without a vidscreen or anything else to tell me where I was, I couldn't figure it out at the time. The bouncing became more violent and if I hadn't been strapped in, I might have died of the blows taken from slamming into the sides of the pod. The seat and the restraining straps did their job, though, and when the bouncing stopped, something snapped loose on the outside of the pod and we were jerked upward.

It was the canopy deployment, but I was dazed enough as it was and could only wait for what happened next. Even with the canopy lowering us gently to whatever world we were about to land upon, the pod still experienced a jarring jolt upon landing, bouncing a time or two before coming to a stop. That's when the pod burst open, just as it was supposed to, and I saw daylight for the first time in days. I didn't remember anything past that for a while.

* * *

"We can't retrieve her."

Addah Desh stared at the ASD operative, who'd identified himself as Lendill Schaff. Addah was bewildered—when had the ASD gotten involved? He thought the military had been sent after her. It was their mistake, after all. "What do you mean?" Addah blustered.

"It means," Lendill sighed patiently, "that the pod found its way to a non-Alliance world. We have a treaty with that world. We can't invade their space, they can't invade ours. I'm afraid your daughter is lost."

"Do they even know to look for her?"

"We sent a communication. They know a pod misfired. That's what they think, anyway. Since she's military and not a common Alliance citizen, they also know they can do whatever they please with her when they find her, if she's still alive. The pod was on the last of its life support—if it had any left that is—when it entered Mandil's airspace."

"So we may never know if Reah lives or dies." Addah grumbled, his eyes darting over Lendill's face.

"True. My condolences to you and your family, Master Desh. I'm sure the Governor will send his apologies and condolences soon. You are also welcome to come to the trials of the three who betrayed her."

"Why did they do that to her?" Addah asked.

"Rumor is the master cook was jealous."

"Then I expect to be compensated for my daughter's death. That was a master cook in the making," Addah stood, his voice a near-shout. "Do you know how much she would have brought to my business? Do you? Tell the Governor I will entertain an offer."

"Master Desh," Lendill gripped Addah's collar and drew him forward, his nose almost meeting the cook's, "When a conscript signs with the Regular Alliance Army, they sign all their rights to the Alliance. If a conscript dies, you get condolences and funeral expenses. That's it. Your daughter's body won't be returned to us, so you won't qualify for funeral expenses, either. I know you placed a bribe with an official to have her taken instead of one of your sons. Now, shall I bring charges against you for that, or shall we call it even?"

* * *

"They won't know if we bury the evidence."

Chlind stared at Seval for a moment or two. "You mean bury the pod?"

"Yes. We need another girl to make up for Dela running back to her mother. This one will know to keep quiet. She'll stay alive that way." Seval grinned.

"She really isn't tall enough," Chlind stroked his short beard in contemplation.