Valhai (The Ammonite Galaxy) (24 page)

“Hey Diva!” he called. “You should have tried this a few years ago, you might have lost a bit of weight!”

“And it would have taught you to eat like a person instead of assimilating your food like a Coriolan vacuum cleaner.”

“Don’t tell me you know what a vacuum cleaner looks like?”

“Do they even have vacuum cleaners on Kwaide, or do you use stray warthogs to suction up the dirt?”

“Warthogs are far too valuable. We use our womenfolk.”

The discussion terminated abruptly there, because two very angry girls threw themselves on top of him and tried to pummel him to death.

EIGHT HOURS LATER nobody was laughing. The mask packs were running out and Diva privately thought that they would be in danger of asphyxiating within two further hours. It was evident that Mandalon hadn’t taken their threats seriously.

The new apprentices they had saved were huddled together in a corner; they had not asked to be rescued in the first place, didn’t believe that the Sellites had been going to kill them in the second place, and thought that Arcan was some sort of physics experiment that had gone wrong in the third place. They were not happy, and didn’t care who knew it. If there had been anywhere for them to go then they would have gone.

Six and Diva were keeping themselves busy, each privately determined to carry on as if nothing was happening. Diva had badgered Grace into helping, to stop her mind from dwelling on her mother’s operation. The three of them were busy tying the medicines Vion had brought they into handy packages, just in case they needed to be transferred to a safe place by Arcan.

So when an orthobubble appeared again the only people who saw it were the three of them.

“Arcan!” Diva jumped up to sign on the outer skin of the bubble. “Have they agreed?”

“Arcan!” Grace ran over, signing furiously. “And my mother?”

“Your mother is still alive, but I know no more, Grace,” Arcan signed back. “And I am afraid not, Diva. But I have had a thought. Maybe we should give them a taste of their own medicine?”

“How?”

“I thought I could transport a few of them into the lake, with just the air they have around them for company.”

“Great!”

“Grace, would you like to come along to translate?”

“Yes please.” They waited as the bubble swirled around her. Then, without feeling any movement, she found herself back in the Valhai Voting Dome.

There were some twenty of the most important Sellites there. Mandalon was in the centre of what appeared to be a heated debate. As the bubble appeared they all looked up.

On this occasion, however, Arcan did not give them time to make their comments. The bubble simply absorbed all twenty of the Sellites, and transported them to the lake, where they abruptly found themselves.

Mandalon swiveled to confront the teenager, and took a step towards Grace. Instantly another bubble formed, separating her from the rest, protecting her. It was just thin enough for them all to hear each other.

“You are a traitor to Sell!” screamed Mandalon. “You will be executed for your part in this!”

Grace was shaking, but she hoped it didn’t show. “You will run out of air very quickly in this bubble,” she said. “And Arcan can transport the whole population of Sell here in a flash. You decide. Give the walls a tap when you are ready to come to an agreement.”

“Your whole family will be excommunicated!”

Grace stared at the man. “I have done nothing wrong,” she said with dignity. “It is you who were killing innocent Sacrans. Neither Arcan nor I have perpetrated any violence on anybody. If that is wrong, then I don’t want to be part of your culture.”

“You have brought us here. What is that if not violence?” The man was furious, spittle forming at the sides of his mouth as he spoke.

“We have hurt nobody . . . yet,” said Grace. “If you do not reconnect the oxygen to the 256
^th
skyrise, well . . .” She let her gaze fall away for a moment, and then moved it back to the leader of Sell. “. . . I am afraid that we
will
have been responsible for your deaths. I can live with it.” She hoped she sounded fierce enough for them to believe her.

Behind her back she signed quickly to Arcan to return her to the skyrise, and so disappeared again, leaving the Sellites to their deliberations.

The scene she left behind was chaotic. The twenty Sellites all wanted to speak at once, all using much more air than was prudent. They kept falling into each other too, for Arcan had left the floor concave in shape, and the ones on the outside kept slipping towards the middle of the floor. There was pushing and shoving and there were many curses. Mandalon’s fury raged unabated. He was screaming at all of them but in the general hubbub his voice was unintelligible, simply a peaked sound wave added to the rest. Arcan was amused. These men considered themselves invincible, the great leaders of the Sellite people. They looked very stupid right now, he thought. There was not a shred of dignity left in any of them.

It was becoming harder to breathe in the bubble, and a sudden silence ensued as all the men realized that their lives would be extinguished in a matter of minutes if they did nothing. One of them, rather fatter than most, slumped to the floor clutching at his throat. The rest stared down at him, and then looked towards Mandalon.

“A doctor!” he shouted. “This man needs a doctor.”

Arcan didn’t need to sign to understand him, and a bubble appeared before Vion, on the ground floor of the 367
^th
skyrise, where he was taking care of Cimma.

Vion stared at the bubble, but not in surprise. “You are Arcan. I saw you on the tridiscreen. You are friends with Grace. Do you want me to come?”

The bubble scintillated.

“Do I need my case?”

The bubble scintillated again.

“Then I am ready.” And the Sellite stood patiently while he was transported to join the dignitaries in the lake.

Vion made his way firmly through the men and bent to take look at the man who was ill. He snapped open his medical case, and was able to administer a strong heartcalmer under the tongue. The man had a long history of heart problems. He made him as comfortable as possible and then moved to one side, trying not to fall into the centre. The rest of the men, once he had attended the casualty, took no further notice of him.

“We will have to give in,” muttered Mandalon, through clenched teeth, “but they will regret this. Once we are safe, we will . . .” He looked around at the walls. “. . . take appropriate action.”

“What do you mean?” One of the others asked him.

“It might not be safe to talk here,” Mandalon said.

“Of course it is . . . that thing . . . whatever it is . . . can’t hear or talk. It hasn’t got any eyes or ears. Really, Mandalon, you must try to keep calm.”

Mandalon glowered at the speaker, making a mental note to remove him from office as soon as possible. “Very well then,” he said. “We will go along with this . . . thing . . . for the time being. Let it think it has won. But we can have the last word in the negotiations. It lives here, in this lake, right?”

The others nodded.

“Then what would become of it if somebody attacked it? I am not saying we should use nuclear force – our own skyrises may be too close for that, but we could certainly use conventional weapons against it! ”

There was a general air of relief amongst those present. They would not be claudicating to save their own lives. It would be a strategic decision. It just happened to save their own skins too. There was unanimous agreement.

Mandalon gave a thump on one of the walls. The bubble shimmered slightly and they all found themselves safely back in the Valhai Voting Dome.

Mandalon gave the order to reseal and reconnect the air supply to the 256
^th
house, and immediately afterwards all the orthotubes and lifts began to function again. Things were returning to normal. An uneasy peace reigned.

Vion had just got back to his own skyrise when Grace
appeared
out of nowhere in the ortholift of the Medical House.

“Nice of you to drop in!” He raised one eyebrow.

“Mother?” She looked at him fearfully.

“She will be all right, I hope,” he said. “She came through the operation well, although of course she is very weak. I’m pleased with her progress so far. Why don’t you come in with me and you can talk to her for a few moments? She is conscious again now. She can’t speak much, but it will make her very happy to see you.”

Grace followed him into the hospital. Cimma was lying in a controlled atmosphere room with many tubes running to different machines, but she was awake, and managed a weak smile when she saw her daughter.

Grace kissed her gently on the cheek. “Magestra, thank goodness! How do you feel?”

Cimma gave her a wavy motion with one of her hands.

“I know, but you are alive. That’s the main thing. And you were right! I promise I will never stop you carrying your dagger! You can protect all of us as long as you want. I’ll even carry my own catana around with me. I’m sorry if I ever doubted you!”

“Attack!” Cimma managed to mumble.

“I know. You were right. And I’m afraid it was me that got us all into trouble. But that can keep until you feel better. You just have to concentrate on getting well. Promise?”

Cimma gave a wan smile. Grace bent down to kiss her again. “I don’t know when I will be able to visit again, Matri, but I’ll be thinking of you. You just make sure you get well.”

“Dagger!” Cimma managed to get out.

Grace looked around. It was nowhere to be seen. “I will get it down to you as soon as I can. It must be on the twenty-first floor somewhere.” Her mother looked worried. “I will find it, I promise,” Grace assured her.

Grace and Vion walked back to the lift together, where Grace gave him a quick hug, her eyes filling with tears.

“You saved her life. Thank you.”

He nodded. “We were just in time.” Then he caught her by the shoulders, and looked gravely into her eyes. “Can you contact your friend Arcan?”

She nodded.

“You had better tell him to take care. Mandalon and the other sycophants on his team are planning to blow the lake from here to Cian, despite the consequences to Sell.”

“They want to kill Arcan? But they have just agreed to negotiate!”

Grace was shocked.

“I know. They only agreed to buy more time. Arcan is in great danger. I just hope he knows how to look after himself.”

“I’ll tell him right away.” Grace went over to the wall and began to sign with her fingers. “This is how you can talk to him. Any orthogel will do, I think.” She explained the code that they used.

“I’ll remember. If I need to contact him.” Vion smiled.

“Or me,” Grace added.

“Or you,” he agreed. “But I hope the news on your mother will be good, and I won’t have to do that.”

“Me too. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Another bubble appeared out of nowhere and swept Grace up, disappearing instantly with her. Vion put his head on one side. Sell was getting interesting these days.

VION MADE HIS way into the voting chamber in his skyrise, the 367
^th
. When his father died, he would accede to the 49
^th
floor, but his father was still a strong man, and for the time being his place was in the third highest family chair. His sister, Aracely, took up the final fourth place in the circle. The heights of the chairs went down as in all voting chambers. First his father and then down in height to his sister. They waited anxiously for the tridi to start. It was to be a momentous occasion.

“What was it like, Vion? Being in the ortholake?” Aracely asked him. Vion opened his mouth to answer, but his father forestalled him.

“I want no opinions from this family, mind.” He gave Vion a direct glare. “Do not think that having a seat in this vote entitles you to speak out in front of all Sell. If anybody of this house is required to speak, then I will speak for all of us. Is that clear?” The other three members of his family nodded. He remained unconvinced. “I don’t want you putting your opinions forward, Vion!”

Vion looked hurt. “Have I said anything?” he asked.

His father gave a guffaw. “Didn’t have to. I won’t have you getting this family into trouble. It would kill your mother.”

“Very well.” Vion inclined his head.

“Look what a mess Xenon has got himself into. All because he didn’t exercise enough control! Never live it down. End of the 256th house, for sure. That silly little Grace!”

“She isn’t . . .” Then Vion subsided. Defending Grace in front of his stern father would be a move he was not foolish enough to make. “. . . that is, she isn’t genetically modified,” he finished, lamely.

“Quite.” This comment met with his father’s complete agreement. “Now you can see why I had you both genetically modified. Well, you can thank Cian I did. That little spit of a girl has brought down a house of fifty generations of Sellites. I was called in yesterday to attend Amanita, you know. Quite overcome. She has been sadly affected by these developments. She had tried so hard to help Grace find the right track for her life. A terrible shame.”

Vion nodded and hid a grin. He knew exactly how Amanita had tried to help Grace, and couldn’t feel much sympathy for her, despite his genetic enhancement.

At that moment the tridi came to life, which attracted the full attention of the family.

A magnificently robed Mandalon was standing at the centre of the enormous hemisphere, a somber expression on his face. There was no sign of the shrieking tyrant Vion had seen in the bubble. The man addressing his nation was calm and dignified. There was an aura of authoritative credibility which was enhanced by the many magmite columns supporting the vaulted roof of the Valhai Voting Dome.

“People of Sell,” he began, in a mellifluous voice. “I stand here before you today, a modest man of the Almagest Triangle, in . . .”

Aracely put a finger down her throat and made gagging sounds. Vion looked over towards his sister and burst out laughing. This earned their father’s displeasure, and missed most of the speech.

“. . . so I would ask you, my fellow Sellites, as a matter of national security, to vote for your government – for your families – for your country!” Mandalon finished his speech in a thrilling bass designed to forment patriotism, inclined his portly figure to the nation and then stepped back.

“Voting will now commence,” said a metallic voice. “Sellites, please cast your votes on my mark. First point: the acceptance of negotiations with the entity Arcan. Mark!” There was a small pause and then. “Passed. Second point: repudiation of the 256
^th
house of Sell.” Another small pause, during which Vion’s father shot him a meaningful look and watched attentively to see what button his son pushed. “Passed. Third point: authorization of all necessary force.” A longer pause, during which Vion’s finger did not go near the button. Then. “Passed. That concludes the votation. Thank you.”

Mandalon returned to the high podium in the centre, and began another speech thanking the citizens for their vote of confidence in the government. Vion didn’t listen. He was thinking about Grace’s family. Xenon was not one of his favourite people, but it seemed a harsh sentence. Then he remembered that Xenon had ordered the air supply turned off in Diva’s bubble. He couldn’t really feel sorry for the man. Diva had gone through a lot, too, before that. To operate on someone and then throw them back into a cell on their own to recuperate, without medical attention. That on its own was heinous. Maybe he did deserve what he was getting.

“What will happen to Xenon and Amanita?” he asked his father.

“Banned to Cesis. All artifacts withheld.”

“Oh.” Forty-nine generations of artifacts were about to be lost. That was a huge penalty to pay. Xenon would be left penniless, on Cesis. He would have to work like any other Cesan did to maintain his family. Probably at some quite mundane task. Not only that, but his children would also lose all their rights to Sell. That was going to be a difficult burden for them to carry. And Grace was responsible for all that. It was a sad result. He realized that if he hadn’t brought Cimma back to be operated on he might have found himself in the same situation. His own family could have been going through exactly the same! Whatever he felt personally, he was glad that
his
family wasn’t having to cope with that. He was going to have to stay. He bent his head. The thought was not a pleasant one. He felt torn in two different directions.

At least he could tell Grace about this vote. It might be possible for her to get some artifacts out, through Arcan. Then he changed his mind. No, not Grace. Diva was the person who would know what to do.

Diva was surprised when she was called to the interscreen. Grace had told her everything that had happened, of course, but she couldn’t think why Vion would be calling her, and why he was insisting that Grace not be present.

Vion explained quickly. “. . . So I thought,” he finished, “that you and Six might be able to do something with Arcan, secure part of the artifacts perhaps? After all they do belong to Grace and her family, and I can’t see why the rest of the Sellites should get them. We are all ridiculously wealthy already.”

“Sure,” Diva agreed instantly. “We will get however much we can out. We had already separated weapons and some negotiable coins, but we can add the most valuable items as well. I didn’t want anyone to notice before, but now it won’t matter, will it?”

“I don’t think so. They have already been banished. Nothing much worse than that can happen to the family. Grace is another matter. If they catch her . . . she will be executed.”

“But she has done nothing wrong!”

“The Sellites don’t see it that way. Oh, and Diva?”

“What?”

“Could you put this interscreen in with the artifacts, please. Then you could still use it perhaps, and anyway, I would prefer nobody found out that I had given it to Grace.”

“You got it.”

Vion’s face brightened. “Thanks Diva. I knew I could rely on you!”

“No problem. See you.”

“See you.” But will I? He thought.

Diva explained the situation to Six, and they went into the back lift, now working again, to ask Arcan about it.

“You wish me to store some of Grace’s family treasures?” He thought about it. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Then you had better make a start now,” said Diva. “We already made piles in the artifact rooms, but that was just some essentials. Now we have to take the most valuable stuff from all the floors, and I would guess that we don’t have much time.”

“That is no problem. The Sellites will not be allowed in this building until we have a signed treaty.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know how long that will be,” Six pointed out. “We had better get moving on this.”

“Just pile everything into the lift on whatever floor, and I will transport it somewhere where it will be safe.”

“You might think about transporting us somewhere safe,” Six said.

“I am, Six, I am,” Arcan said. “I am now very close to a solution. I just hope that they take a little more time to make their minds up about the att—, I mean, the treaty.”

Six frowned. “Are you keeping something from us?”

“Yes. Grace’s artifacts.”

“No. I meant . . .” Six’s eyes narrowed. “. . . I think you know perfectly well what I meant. The days that your understanding was limited are long gone, Arcan. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Thank you Six. My understanding has never been limited in comparison with your own.”

“Tell me about it. It reminds me of all those hours in quantum physics class with you. It was like watching somebody meet an ice-cream for the first time. One gulp and it was gone, and you were looking for more. Quite inexplicable.”

“Yes, though I don’t know why you want me to tell you about it. Here you are. Ground floor.” Arcan fell silent, and Six gathered that he would get nothing further out of Arcan at that time.

“Have it your own way,” he said. “I just hope you know what you are doing.”

“Of course you do,” said Arcan. “If I didn’t know what I was doing that would make two of us.”

“Very funny,” said Six.

“Thank you. I have been studying your thought pathways. They are so basic that it took me a long time to find any at all, but I think I have it now.”

“You amaze me.”

“Yes. Though in all fairness that is not a difficult thing to do,” said Arcan.

“Glad to be of help.”

“Yes. I thought you would be.”

Six gave up and stalked out of the lift. Arcan should study Diva for a change, he thought savagely. He would have real trouble finding a thought pathway in
that
brain.

Diva gave a swirl, a gold embroidered robe around her shoulders. “Look at me, Six! I am a princess.” She waved an imaginary wand imperiously. “Kneel before me, vassal.”

“No. No. After you,” Six said.

It took a moment, then: “Kwaidian. You are risking your life challenging the princess! Acknowledge your better, I say!”

“I am better,” Six replied obediently.

Diva stamped her foot. “I shall have you drowned in Mesteta wine for your insolence, underling!”

Six smiled. “What a way to go!” he said. “Makes me envious of your outcasts on Coriolis!”

“If you were really my subject I should hack off your head with a scimitar!” she said severely. “You are no fun at all.”

“Take off that silly robe, and let’s get started on all this,” he said. “We need to take anything light enough and valuable enough.” Then he looked up at her with a grin. “Never thought I would be stealing for a Sellite, that’s for sure!”

Diva nodded. “Neither did I!”

“There is enough in just this one room for me to keep my sisters for the rest of their lives,” he said wistfully.

“Not ours.” For Diva the line was very clear cut. She was used to money, took it for granted.

He gave a sigh. “No. I suppose not. But it is hard . . . very hard.”

“Do you miss your sisters very much?”

Six just stared at her. She went on hurriedly. “Yes, I suppose you do. Never mind. We will go back for them soon. You’ll see. They will be fine.”

“They better be.” And he savagely grabbed at a purse bulging with jewels. “This can go.”

She agreed. “And this.” She showed him a beautiful diamond necklace and matching earrings. He nodded.

“Keep going. We have to make better time than this.”