The Abulon Dance (21 page)

“You are not going out alone, Excellency.”

Beny was startled by the unexpected tone of the response. “I know this could be dangerous, but there is a possibility that someone will try and assassinate the Chief. I must warn him. But I can’t endanger anyone else on my staff.”

Zox drew himself up to his full imposing height. “I was trained as a Serpian Raider. I am used to danger. If you need a guard, which you do, I am the obvious choice.”

“You’re willing to do this? For me?”

“I am simply following the Raider Code to serve.”

“Well, I don’t deny I need all the help I can get.”

“That is true,” Zox agreed, a little too quickly, in Beny’s opinion. “This might be a classic case of misdirection,” he added, as he carefully sealed the doors of the office. “A standard battle tactic.”

“You could be right.”

“In that case, you might still be the target, and this merely a ruse to lure you into the open.” Zox scanned the area as they emerged into the sunlight.

Beny shivered, in spite of the heat. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. “Nevertheless, I have to act on this information and warn the Chief. If we cut across here, we can intercept the procession near the house where I am to meet Thar-von and the others.”

They hurried through the Public Gardens, which were almost deserted, but getting through the crowds gathered to watch the procession was another matter. Beny was thankful for Zox. The Serpian opened a path for Beny forcefully, undeterred by the press of bodies and the noise, that rose like a palpable wave all around them. The people were chanting: “Am Quarr! Am Quarr!”

Beny squeezed through under Zox’s arm and saw the great Procession swaying towards them, children dancing before it. After them came a confused throng of brightly kilted young men carrying cages of woven rush filled with red and purple and blue-green birds, all screeching and squawking, adding their strident voices to the din. Beny winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears. “Can you see the Chief yet?” Beny shouted.

“Yes. He walks under a canopy held by Imperial Hunters.”

Beny started pushing forward and immediately the crowd surged with him, all seeing the Chief at the same time. They waved their wooden clappers and shouted at the tops of their lungs. One of the cages dropped and a swarm of birds flew upwards, circling the procession before disappearing into the bright lavender sky. The noise was deafening to his sensitive Merculian ears and the heat and the colors swirled around him, in noisy chaos. He gritted his teeth and pushed on, forcing his way through the dancing children and the boys carrying their cages, the mask-bearers and the first group of Elders and advisors who smiled at him indulgently.

Beny waved his arms and shouted, but his voice was lost in the noise around him and his frantic gestures were taken as some sort of alien ritual of enjoyment. The Elders laughed good-naturedly. The Chief turned and saw him and the dark face lightened in recognition. He paused.

“No!” screamed Beny. He had caught sight of a movement from a rooftop directly opposite. “Watch out! Be careful!” He saw a flash. Heard a scream. Felt a sudden burst of heat. A body slammed into him. Everything went black.

* * *

Thar-von became aware of the noise below them in the street and snapped his attention away from Xunanda. The jubilation had risen to such a pitch that they had to practically shout at each other to be heard. Suddenly as the Great Chief came in sight, walking under a feathered canopy on his way to the Hill of Dreams, the noise level became deafening as everyone waved wooden clappers in the air. The crowd seemed to swell, surging towards their leader as if wanting to touch him. Then there was a loud scream followed by a series of sharp explosions.

The procession wavered, the patterns changed. People screamed and tried to break away. The canopy fell. For an instant, Thar-von saw the great Chief of Abulon lying on the ground with blood on his chest. He also caught sight of Talassa-ran Zox. He saw him push Beny to the ground and then the crowd closed in and he lost them.

Thar-von turned and ran for the door.

“No!” Xunanda flung herself in front of him. “There’s nothing you can do!”

“I must go. It is my duty.” Thar-von removed her gently but firmly and tried to open the door. It was locked. He glanced out to the terrace but knew it was too far down for him to get out that way. Instinctively he backed up against the wall, feeling cornered. Xunanda was watching him closely. Her hands were clasped together in front of her but she seemed calm. “Am I the next hostage?” asked Thar-von coolly.

She shook her head. “You do not understand,” she said. She went to the table and pushed a buzzer carved among the oddly shaped fruits and flowers around the edge. After a moment, a section of the wall opened and a man entered. He had light brown shoulder length curls and the stocky build and copper eyes of the androids.

“What happened?” she asked.

“The Chief has been assassinated.”

“It is too soon,” she said.

“I agree. It is unfortunate, from that aspect.”

Thar-von felt for the reassuring hardness of the small hand weapon concealed in his belt. He slipped it into the palm of his hand. As far as he could tell, the newcomer was not armed.

“I am going to the aid of the Merculian Ambassador,” he said, starting towards the door in the wall.

They both looked at him, startled by the cold authority in his voice.

“It is already taken care of,” said the man. “We saw what happened. My people will bring them here safely.”

“Your people,” Thar-von repeated.

“Kahar is a Kolari,” Xunanda said. Thar-von waited in silence for an explanation. He kept his back to the wall, afraid that his heart might be clouding his judgement, making it difficult for him to assess the exact element of danger.

“We Kolaris are the second race on this planet,” Kahar began after a moment. “Long ago we were a peaceful, agrarian people living beyond the mountains. For centuries this natural barrier protected us and gave us a false sense of security. When the warrior Abulonians found us, we welcomed the newcomers, took them into our homes and showed them the secrets of the amazing technology we had developed.”

“My ancestors repaid this courtesy with treachery,” Xunanda broke in with feeling. “We killed their leaders and elders and enslaved their youth. Eventually my people set up a system of breeding farms to ensure a constant supply of slaves.”

“But why was the term ‘android’ used?” asked Thar-von.

“Originally it referred to the little mechanical servants the Kolaris built to do the heavy work on their farms. At first it was used in derision to apply to the slaves and little by little the original meaning of the word was lost.”

“I see.”

“You do not seem surprised,” observed Kahar. It was obvious that he was still suspicious of Thar-von.

“The Merculian Ambassador had already discovered that the so called ‘androids’ are sentient beings. The I.P.A. has been informed.”

“And?”

“There is no question of Abulon joining the Alliance under these circumstances.”

Thar-von tensed as the door in the wall flew open to admit two more Kolaris who carried a wounded Talassa-ran between them. Beny followed, clutching the Serpian’s jacket. Talassa-ran’s tunic was scorched and torn. His head was thrown back and a dark ooze of blood covered his shoulder.

Thar-von stepped forward and helped lay him down on the floor. Xunanda rushed to the corner of the room to bring water and hand towels.

Beny knelt beside Zox. His face was smudged and streaked with tears. “He saved my life,” he whispered hoarsely. “I was right in the line of fire and he threw himself on top of me. I was trying to warn the Chief.”

Thar-von tore the Serpian’s tunic away from the wound and examined it closely. “A knife,” he said. One of the Kolaris handed him a long hunting knife. Thar-von undid the fastenings on his sleeve and rolled it back above his elbow. “I am ready,” he said to Talassa-ran.

“No,” said Zox faintly. “It is too late for the mingling.” He closed his eyes, too weak to continue.

“It is not too late,” said Thar-von gently.

“It is my choice. Let it happen.”

“But Ran—”

“No,” Zox repeated. “I have bought back my honor with this act. Let it be.”

“What does he mean?” asked Beny, looking from Zox to Thar-von in confusion.

“Triani and that other Merculian dancer took my honor from me that night at the party before we left for this accursed mission. I was helpless and they took advantage of me.” Talassa-ran paused to gather his forces. “For this humiliation I arranged for him and the little one to be guided to the bar. It was in payment of a gambling debt. I did not know the little one would be taken as a hostage.”

“You betrayed them out of revenge,” breathed Beny.

“You are alive because of me,” Talassa-ran reminded him. “The knife, Del-k’sad.”

“You are aware?” asked Thar-von.

“Aware, yes.”

Thar-von laid the long-bladed knife in the Serpian’s hands and backed away. He helped Beny to his feet and moved him away from the wounded man. As Beny turned to ask him a question, Talassa-ran shouted, a harsh, strong, alien sound in the sun-filled room. He rolled onto the knife.

The others stared, uncomprehending, shock on their faces.

“You knew this would happen,” said Beny, at last. “Why did you help him?”

“It was his right as a Serpian Raider. He always tried to live by their code.”

“That code saved my life.” Beny spread the jacket over the body and turned away. “I do not understand,” he murmured, wiping tears from his eyes. “The Chief! What happened?”

“He is dead.”

“I was trying to warn him!”

“Was it Yonan?” asked Thar-von.

“Possibly. Life is not simple here,” said Xunanda. “It has never been just Yonan and the Chief. There are many factions. I myself help the Kolaris get out to the hills where they can be free. Many have joined Yonan. Many are on their own. Those who are more militant have chosen to follow Norh.”

“So Norh could be the one behind this?” asked Thar-von.

“It is possible.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “He is known for being hot-headed. We do not know for certain.”

“I do,” said Beny. Every eye in the room looked at him. He suddenly remembered who he was, what he represented. He glanced at Thar-von. “But I can say nothing. There’s someone I have to talk to, first.”

TWENTY

The Great Hall echoed with the deep-voiced conversations of the soldiers as they laughed and talked, eating from wooden bowls they carried from table to table. Luan fingered his blue beads thoughtfully as he watched the scene. He glanced sideways at the stocky, brown-haired man with the coppery eyes who stood beside him. He couldn’t get used to the idea of these people being accepted as equals. All his life he had been taught to see the ‘androids’ as a subhuman, unintelligent species of servant, with a status slightly below that of a watch-dog. The idea had been constantly reinforced. He had never questioned it. In the last few hours of their early morning journey, Marselind had explained the truth about the Kolaris. Luan was stunned by the idea that his ancestors had dehumanized an entire race.

The man at his side was staring back at him boldly, quite unlike the androids Luan was used to in the city. There was anger in the copper eyes.

“You don’t believe what you’ve been told about us, do you?” the man said.

“I don’t want to believe it but I guess I have no choice.” Luan looked away, uncomfortable.

“If you were Chief tomorrow, what would you do about us?”

“Look, I haven’t had much time to think about this. Of course it has to be stopped, but you just can’t let loose thousands of people who have never been allowed to think for themselves.”

“So, what would you do?”

“Well, first I’d find out how
you
did it. How did you make the adjustment?”

“Good,” said the man, nodding approval. For an instant, Luan was stung that this object should condescend to him, but he bit back the rebuke.

“You still feel uncomfortable with me, don’t you?”

Luan shifted uneasily. This was not going to be easy. He made himself look the man right in the eye. “You’re the first andr— I mean Kolari, I’ve spoken to as an equal and it takes a little getting used to.”

“At least you’re honest.” He nodded and turned away.

Luan watched him for a moment, a strong, self-assured man striding towards the door, his long, wavy hair rising and falling as he moved. How had he made the switch from dehumanized, unquestioning machine to leader in so short a time? Luan started after him.

“Wait! Stop! I mean, please. I don’t know your name.”

The man turned, not trying to hide the amusement at the initial note of command in Luan’s voice which had changed in mid sentence to one of apology. “I’m Xenobar. I used to be an ‘android’ servant in Yonan’s household. About eight years ago he had the obedience devices removed from my head so no one could trigger any response in me that I had not reasoned out myself. He taught me to think. He let me grow my hair, an important symbol for us. He saw to it that I learned to read and write. Naturally I followed him to the mountains when your father threatened to imprison him for civil disobedience. Now I am one of his Captains. The other Kolaris here have come either with their ex-masters or they’ve been liberated by raiding parties. Does that fill things in for you?”

“Thanks,” said Luan humbly. Across the Hall he noticed Triani whispering fiercely to Eulio, who looked about to burst into tears.

“Why did you come here?” asked the Kolari. “Don’t you realize the personal danger you are in?”

“I came to try to save lives,” Luan said, coloring. The grandiose words embarrassed him even as he said them.

“You are either very brave or very foolish,” remarked Xenobar.

Luan opened his mouth, then closed it as he saw Marselind striding across the crowded hall to join them. “I have been looking for you,” Marselind said to Xenobar, ignoring Luan.

“I have been making the rounds.” The Kolari glanced about him casually, as if the conversation didn’t interest him much. “While you were gone, I heard the
cewa
singing.”