Empire of Women & One of our Cities is Missing (Armchair Fiction Double Novels Book 25) (6 page)

She came
to him, as if drawn irresistibly, and she did it perfectly, her hair a pale
glory about her glowing, brilliant eyes in the dimness, her body soft and warm
beneath the soft robe of diaphanous green, her eyes grown heavy and sweet as if
with sleep.
 
His arms went about her, and
their lips halted but inches from the other’s, parted and anticipating the
thrill to come, hers seemingly heavy with unspoken questions that could be answered
in but one way.
 

Then Gan
crushed her to him and drank deep of her scarlet mouth.
 
Her, hands pressed him back ineffectually,
then beat upon his chest, then suddenly relaxed and she became a limp weight
in his arms.
 
He released her, but she
sagged downward and would have fallen had he not embraced her again.
 
It was not until the weight in his arms told
him that he had forgotten his strength and nearly crushed her that he felt
remorse, and even then he was not sure but that it was only more acting.
 
It was the logical next move, to play the
part of an innocent virgin who faints at a kiss…but then these people of Phira
could not have the strength that was his, their planet being but a third the
weight of his own birthplace.
 

Long minutes later she raised her head and opened her eyes on his.
 
She sighed.
 
“Your arms are like steel bands.
 
You can’t be human!”

Gan was
convinced.
 
It had been an honest kiss,
and his strength had caused unconsciousness.
 
He determined to
act
as she would have
expected had she been successful in deceiving him.
 
He murmured:
 
“I’ve
been wanting
to do that since I first saw
you.
 
Looking so sad and frightened, you
were irresistible.
 
Forgive me.”
 

She
released herself and her round, lovely arms raised, straightened her hair, the
while she kept her evil eyes on his, soberly measuring him still again.
 

Just then
a tiny form came racing up the corridor, flung itself against Gan bodily,
embracing him, sobbing in unashamed delight.
 
“Oh Captain Gan, they kept me locked up.
 
I couldn’t get back to you.
 
Don’t
let them whip me again.”
 

IT WAS
little Elvir, dressed now in the simple yellow tunic of the temple slaves,
which left her pretty legs exposed to the thighs, but covered the rest of her
very modestly.
 
Gan dropped an amazed
hand to her curls, then, as astonishment over her sudden appearance abated, her
words soaked into his somewhat bemused mind.
 
He started in anger.
 

“And have
you been whipped, little one?” he asked, his voice taking on the undertones of
the angry bellow of which his crew lived in dread.
 
“Tell me who did it, and why?”

Elvir,
seeing the telltale flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of Celys, suddenly
remembered her original errand into the temple, and her wits began to whir in
double time.
 

“They
wouldn’t believe that I’m off the
Warspear
, and they shut me up with
their slaves.
 
Yesterday they whipped me
for lying to them.
 
I hate the
priestesses, and I hate their old temple and the whole mess of lies they tell, too.
 
I
didn’t lie;
they
did!”

Alain
looked at Celys, wrath gathering in his eyes.
 
“Was it you had Elvir whipped, dear lady?”

Celys,
feeling that every possible avenue of reasonable relationships with these
conquerors was inexorably closing before her, only saw one more obstacle
arising in this silly child’s words.
 
Her
neck stiffened, her eyes flashed.
 

“She bears
the temple mark on her arm.
 
So far as I
am concerned, she belongs to Myrmi-Atla, and may be whipped if the priestesses
desire.”
 

“She
happens to be my personal property,” scowled Gan.
 
“You will henceforth allow her the liberty of
the temple and of the city.
 
Do you understand,
or must there be more words about the matter?”

Celys
nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak, but her eyes upon little Elvir’s
were pale as ice.
 
She had had no idea it
could be so terribly difficult to be in a subordinate position.
 
Little things mattered so, suddenly.
 
This was going to take masterly control,
infinite tact and patience—and she had so little experience in the use of
either.
 

Feeling
that her days of liberty were numbered, she became suddenly frightened and
whirled and took flight from this terrible bronzed man of space, hastening down
the interminable corridor with undignified strides.
 
Gan watched her go, then strode off to check
his guards and to search the temple and the nearby “schools” for more concrete
evidence of the Matriarch’s secret pursuits.
 
At his heels tripped Elvir, her heart full of glee that Gan and the
“old” chieftainess of the stuck-up priestesses weren’t hitting it off.

DAYS
LATER, with the Regent increasingly impatient, Gan’s search led him into the
subterranean maze of passages beneath the ancient temple.
 
Alone, with nothing in his hands but a flash
for light, he was startled by a cry of pain ahead, for he had supposed these
forgotten chambers to be empty of all life.
 

He put out
his light, raced ahead on silent feet, guiding himself with a palm against the
damp
stone wall
.
 
A glow of light coming from several openings ahead brought him to a
halt.
 
He moved forward more cautiously,
peering at last through a grille of ornamental iron, rusted almost away.
 

The scene
before him was startling.
 
There were a
dozen of the warrior maids in shining harness, looking like Valkyries with
their folded shoulder glide wings.
 
They
had opened a concealed trap in the floor and were lowering some bulky
mechanical device through it with the aid of ropes.
 

Gan could
not make a move for fear of detection.
 
They were armed and he was alone.
 
He stood motionless and silent, but minutes ticked by and still they
struggled with the weight, which seemed too large for the opening.
 
He noted one of the girls had blood on her
hand.
 
Obviously the
one who had cried out in pain.
 

He began a
slow retreat, trying to steal away as unnoticed as he had come, only to have
his holstered gun strike the wall with a loud thump.
 

He gave up
all caution with the sound and sprinted off, flashing his light ahead for a
glimpse of the corridor wall along which he had approached.
 
But, unseen by him, one of the elder
Matriarchs had been standing guard at a doorway near the window he had peered
through.
 
This officer, leader of the
squad of war-maidens, darted out into the center of the corridor, saw his form
outlined in his own momentary flash of light.
 

She fired,
and her pellet blasted the pavement from under Gan’s flying feet.
 
He took a running dive into a doorway and
brought up in the darkness with his head rammed against a soft, cowering form,
which whimpered with pain at his impact.
 
He clamped hard hands about a throat and might have hurt her, but
instead he relaxed his grip and asked:
 

“Who are
you?
 
Quick!”

“It’s only
your little Elvir, Captain Gan.
 
I was
watching the priestess, and I followed her down here.
 
When I saw what they were doing I started
back to get you, but they heard me.
 
I
ducked in here and they didn’t even look for me.
 
There’s a door behind us, but it’s locked.”

Pushing
the girl behind him, Gan fired once into the heavy door.
 
The planks splintered and the thing hung half
destroyed.
 
Elvir gave a scream as flying
splinters struck around them, but the pillars of the doorway protected them
from the blast.
 
Gan put his shoulder to
the wreckage and shoved the door open.
 
The hand-flash revealed rows of workbenches, a litter of apparatus long
unused, dust and disorder.
 
A dim light
hung in the center of the chamber, a worn-out glow lamp such as the Phirans use
everywhere, but its light was near useless.
 
Gan realized that this had once been a lavishly fitted laboratory, but
was now long abandoned.
 
This was the
kind of evidence he was looking for, as Celys had claimed there was little
scientific activity among the Matriarch order.
 

Racing
feet behind them drove them forward into the aisles between the work benches, laden
down with glassware, retorts, chemicals in jars, intricate experimental
assemblies of tubes and fire-rods and glass containers, electrical wiring and
other apparatus whose use and nature were wholly mysterious to Gan’s searching
eyes.
 

They crouched
out of sight in the aisle between two rows of
work benches
,
listening to the running feet pause at the doorway, then come forward
hesitantly into the laboratory where they waited.
 

Gan peered
between the interstices of the apparatus, caught a glimpse of the warrior’s
harness, that of an officer.
 
Her face
was flushed and angry, her pellet gun upraised, her eyes darting about the
chamber.
 
Gan could not bring himself to
fire, but held his sights on her and waited, thinking how pitiful a culture it
was:
 
these lovely creatures trying to
repress their own natures and take over all man’s duties and ways, with the
result that they lived empty lives of envy and hate and a loveless ambition to
surpass other women.
 
It just wasn’t natural
for women to be that way, but then, what man wanted to be a soldier either, at
heart?
 

Step by
step she advanced into the room, the shattered door having told her the quarry
was here.
 
But her eyes and ears revealed
nothing.
 
At last Gan, wearied of the
waiting, spoke angrily:
 
“Drop the gun,
woman, or I’ll have to kill you.
 
I don’t
want to, you know.
 
I can’t get used to
the idea of shooting women.”
 

The Amazon
whirled, eyes wild with startled fear at the sound of his heavy, dominating
voice, and conflict appeared on her face—the desire to drop that gun as she was
ordered, the wish not to appear a weak, fearful woman making her clasp the gun
more firmly.
 
Her fingers trembled on the
heavy saw-grip.
 

“Drop it,
woman.
 
I don’t want to hurt you.
 
There’s a child with me; you can’t fire on me
anyway.”
 

At the
word
child
the Amazon suddenly relaxed, and Gan realized that he had
hit on the one spring that unlocked the Amazons’ frozen hearts—they loved
children.
 
The gun hand slowly dropped
and the gun slipped to the floor.
 

“Go and
pick it up, Elvir, but don’t get between us,” ordered Gan in a whisper.
 

Elvir
scrambled from under the heavy bench, scuttled across the floor, grabbed up the
gun
and backed away.
 
Gan stood upright, not ten feet from the Amazon.
 

“I don’t
know what you women are trying to do with all this stealing about and trying to
kill.
 
You know Phira has fallen, and you
know the Tor won’t relax his hold on Alid for all your guerilla tactics.
 
Why don’t you give up and go back to being
women again?
 
Women weren’t meant to
rule, only to be loved.”
 

HER HEAD
reared back, her eyes blazed at him.
 
She
was very beautiful in her metal harness, gleamingly polished and jeweled
breastplates
and the plumes woven into her dark hair.
 
She drew her graceful legs straight under her
and assumed a proud carriage as she
cried:
 
“We’ll never give up while one Matriarch
lives.”
 

“It’s such
a waste,” Gan growled.
 
“Could you tell
me one good reason for not giving it up?”

“Our
knowledge shall not fall into the hands of murderers and thieves…and…
men!
 
You should be able to understand that the
secret is a sacred trust, given to us by the All-Mother.”
 

“Bah!” Gan
Alain curled a scornful lip at the officer-maid.
 
“Hypocritical cant.
 
As if you believed that the Matriarch’s keeping
the secret of longevity from mankind was a good deed!
 
It’s a filthy sample of selfishness in a
minority placing its own interests above every other human’s health.
 
Now admit it!”

Her head
tossed again, for just an instant of angered pride,
then
the truth of his words and his charge against the Matriarch sank home.
 
Her head lowered in shame.
 
Gan stood, letting her think it out, watching
the flush on her cheeks creep higher.
 

“It shows
on your face,” Gan said.
 
“Yet you have
never admitted it to yourself before.”
 

Her eyes
on his became curiously alive with intense inner mental activity.
 
It seemed she was trying to read his
mind.
 
At last she sighed, her eyes
dropped from his and her head bowed lower.
 
Her voice was muted and soft with deep new emotion.
 

“Yes,
Captain.
 
I have often thought your view
might be the correct one, but never allowed myself to admit our wrong.
 
It is so easy to accept teachings one hears
all one’s life.
 
That is our creed—the
dominance of women, the keeping of sciences to the priestesses, the dominance
of the Matriarchy over the simpler people of our worlds.
 
But I cannot honestly say that I do not see
that our ways are not just or good.”
 

Gan gave a
short laugh of triumph.
 
Here was what he
had been looking for—one of the leaders who knew the truth, but did not approve
of the Matriarchy.
 
Gan moved
closer.
 
“Now you’re talking sense, and
it’s the first time I’ve heard any from these addled females of the temple
since I landed on Phira.
 
Now, I’ll make
you a proposition:
 
reveal this so-sacred
secret of life to me, and I’ll do my best to get you an adequate reward from
the Regent of Konapar.”
 

Her eyes
saddened, and the idealistic light fled from her face.
 
Her voice became harsh again, a voice used to
command.
 
“I am no traitor, Captain,
even though I may not approve of our ways.”
 

“Your
oath, I suppose,” mused the Cap, aloud.
 
“But have you ever heard of honor?
 
The path of honor for you would seem to dictate that you try to right
the ancient wrong these female monopolists have committed, rather than to
uphold their crime.”
 

“My name
is Aphele, Captain.
 
I have heard of you
and know your reputation—all of it.”
 
Her
eyes twinkled for an instant as she
asked:
 
“Are you sure you are completely qualified to
talk thus of honor?”
 

Gan
colored,
then
growled:
 
“I have my code, and I live up to it.
 
Do you?
 
Have you the courage to throw aside your teachings and do the right
thing by humanity?”

Her head
lifted again in pride.
 
“I have more
courage than you, who only pretend to be honest.
 
Suppose I make you a
proposition?
 
I will undertake to
guide you to a place where the secret you seek may be learned.”
 

“Then
there
is
a secret, and it can be learned, can be taught, it’s not some
miracle of nature…”
 
Gan was thinking
aloud, his eyes measuring her, seeing trickery there, wondering how to
out-smart her.
 

“You are
afraid,” her low, husky voice taunted him.
 
“You fear I would lead you into a trap.”
 

Gan
laughed.
 
“You have me in a trap already,
Aphele.
 
All you need do is raise your
voice and your war-maidens will come running.
 
Is that machine they were working to hide a part of this so-terrific
secret?”

Aphele
shook her head.
 
“You could kill me
before they arrived, and I do not know that you would not.
 
I’ll strike a bargain with you:
 
I will not call
out,
you will go back to the upper levels.
 
An hour from now I will meet you here alone, to take you on a journey of
some days duration across the desert land where no man travels.
 
There, in a place forbidden to all men, much
can be revealed to you.”
 

IT WAS A
MAD proposition; that he should give himself into the keeping of this woman,
his life dependent upon her word alone, to be led to what fate he could only
imagine.
 
Yet there was a daring challenge
on her face, a stirring call to his blood.
 
He knew she was offering him more than her words seemed to
indicate.
 
Just what, he could find out
only by taking up the challenge.
 
But he
did not need to trust her wholly.
 
There
were ways unknown to her…