
Reifu Rising
By
Becca Abbott
Loki an ilthiyan prince, one of the vampire race who existed uneasily with the humans on the planet of Gaia. In the middle of a hunt on human lands, he captured a spirited young human male.
Sid was a thief and an outcast, and to be captured by a vampire seemed only the latest misfortune in a life defined by them.
But Loki decided to keep Sid instead of kill him and that decision would thrust them both into a whirlwind of treachery, intrigue -- and love.
REIFU RISING
All of us are children of Gaia. We do not flourish where there is not good soil and clean air. This is writ in our blood, our bones, in the Song itself. To deny it is to welcome the cruel embrace of oblivion.
from Thoughts, The Teachings of Jessahana
In the strictly ordered world of Gaia, it was a crime to be clanless or a thief. Sid was both. He stayed alive by keeping his head down and his larcenous ambitions small: a shirt off a line, worn but freshly laundered, a chicken from a coop too close to the road. He was quick, careful and so was rarely caught.
A berry pie was his undoing. On his way through Ladyjess Valley, he wandered into a small farming village and saw it, golden, flaky and warm, cooling on the sill of an open window.
He should have kept going. Instead, he stared at the steaming pie, his stomach folding in on itself. His mouth filled with water. Looking quickly around, he saw no one and, in a single ill-considered moment, changed his life forever. He snatched the sweet.
From inside the cottage came an outraged shriek. The door burst open and a woman ran out, red-faced and brandishing a large wooden spoon.
Small and agile, Sid could have shaken her without trouble, but there had been a recent rain and he slipped in the mud. The pie went flying, landing face down in the muck beside him. Villagers came running from all directions and and pounced on him, dragging him, fighting and cursing, to the village headman. There, his clan-mark was closely examined and, with many exclamations of shock and horror, pronounced a fake. Sentence was duly passed: ten lashes for the theft and five for daring to pollute their damned pesthole of a village by being clanless -- all of it to be delivered first thing the next morning.
Chained to a post in the village center, Sid was left to contemplate the morrow. The fetter around his ankle was new and the lock impervious to his assaults. People came to jeer at him, to throw mud and dung, and to remind him gleefully what he faced in the morning. Sid ignored them as best he could. He showed them a stoic, sullen face, and prayed something -- anything -- would happen to deliver him from the pain and humiliation to come.
It grew dark and he finally slept, but he soon woke to the sound of shouts and pounding feet. He sat up, wiping hair from his eyes. An old man limped past his pole, half-naked; he saw others running about in their nightclothes. A woman hurried by, clutching an infant to her breast, a small boy at her heels, all of them crying. Out in the fields, Sid saw flickers of light: lanterns moving away toward the dark wall of forest.
"Wait!" he shouted. "What's going on?"
No one even looked in his direction.
"Hey! STOP"
"The ilthi!" cried a girl being pulled along by her father. "It's a hunt!"
A hunt? It couldn't be true! There hadn't been hunts in human Gaia since the Accord! Why, men even traded with the ilthi in the markets along the border.
"Wait!" he cried again, moving away from the post, barely noticing the drag of the chain on his raw ankle. "Someone! Help!!"
The village headman, sweating profusely, lumbered past, shooing his wife and teenage son before him.
"Master Bragg!"
The man glanced across the square at Sid then looked away again. "Hurry!" he shouted at his family. "Damn it, run!"
"You can't leave me here! You bastard! Unlock this chain!"
He had only tried to steal a bit of food! He didn't deserve to die for it! In vain, Sid begged the panicked villagers to release him, but no one stopped. Why should they? There was no safety in their thatch and timber homes. A pack of ilthi could tear one of those apart in minutes. The only chance at life lay in the ancient, reinforced caves high in the surrounding hills and it took time to get there. Every second counted. Why waste any on him?
Sid dragged desperately at the chain, knowing it was useless. The ring bolted into the post was cast iron, and the post itself thick and well-anchored in the beaten earth. It was made to withstand the struggles of bigger, stronger men than him. He was tethered like a damned sacrificial goat.
The last of the villagers disappeared into the fields and Sid was alone. Heart beating painfully, he crept back to the post and sank down beside it. Deserted, the village was dark and silent. Far off in the night, he heard a scream.
Why were the ilthi here? They had their bred-men to feed and serve them.
Another scream; this one came from a different direction. Minutes ticked by. Not even a shadow moved. Was it possible the ilthi would pass the village by?
Then Sid heard what he'd been dreading, a rustling, like the wind across dried leaves. Pale, insubstantial, an ilthiya came out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Sid saw the silver flash of his eyes. Another appeared behind him. They were tall and slender in the fashion of their kind. One was dark, the other blond, both clad in form-fitting black leather garments that left only their arms and shoulders bare. Gold and gems gleamed on their long fingers and in their ears.
Sid's paralysis broke; he jumped to his feet and tried to run. Forgotten in his panic, the chain brought him up short and he went sprawling. Hissing, they were on him. Claws dug deep into his shoulders, breaking through ragged cloth and skin. Their weight drove the breath from him.
"Darka!"
Abruptly, the weight was gone. Sid lay in the dirt, hardly daring to breathe. He thought distantly, ashamed, that he had wet himself.
The dark ilthiya's voice was low; he said something in their language, an incomprehensible string of babble to Sid. Through wide eyes, the youth watched the black boots come nearer. The world went topsy-turvy as the ilthiya reached down and seized him by his fettered ankle, lifting him up. There was a crack and a sharp pain ran up his leg. Then Sid was dropped and realized in a dim, unfocused way that the chain was gone.
"There is no sport in killing a chained beast," said the dark one in flawless Human. "Run and have a chance at life. I give you two minutes."
Sid got to his feet somehow, though his legs wobbled under him. Two minutes? Two minutes? What could he do in two minutes? He stared back at them, the lean, powerful bodies, their eyes deep-set in faces of unnatural beauty: eyes that could see so easily in the dark.
There is no sport in killing a chained beast.
Sport? Blood-sucking bastards! He had no chance, of course. It was cruelty disguised as mercy. Turning, he dodged between the buildings and out of their sight. Damn them!
Heart pounding, stomach in painful knots, he struggled to keep a clear head. Veering to the right, Sid ran for his life.
"Time," said Loki.
Darka grinned. Turning, he loped away toward the fields. Loki made no effort to follow, but looked carefully around. It was a truly wretched little village, the ground worn bare by human feet, the hovels roughly constructed of planked pine and thatch. He closed his eyes, letting his other senses take over. A rich tapestry of scents reached him: earthy, human scents, not unpleasing. Sounds washed over him, the sighing of the wind through the distant forest, the barking of a dog far away, a crying child.
Deeper into the village he walked. There was a rustling of a ground squirrel, the drip of water from a pump. There! It was the rapid thud of a frightened, human heart. As he'd thought; the Man had never left.
Loki opened his eyes and the bright night rushed back. He started in the direction of the heartbeat, making his way from hovel to hovel until he came to the one where the human most likely hid. It was the largest in the village. He tried the door and found it locked.
Foolish creature.
Loki slammed his fist against the wood. The poor excuse for a barrier gave way with a splintering crash.
He had to stoop to get through the low, narrow opening. It took a moment for his vision to adjust to the deeper dark of the squalid interior. The human's scent came to him, hot and sharp with fear.
Halfway across the room, Loki stopped, eyes narrowing. On the table where a tankard of ale sat, half drunk, was a slim metal cylinder the length of his index finger. Frowning, Loki picked it up. Thoughtfully, he dropped it into the pouch at this belt. He had another quick look around, but saw nothing else to catch his interest. Shrugging, he continued on his way, up a step and into a low corridor.
Turning left, he entered a cramped bedroom. In the corner was a heap of clothing. He smiled darkly, seeing it quiver. Two long strides brought him to it and, reaching down, his questing fingers found warmth and soft hair.
What happened next was entirely unexpected. Even as he started to drag the human from his hiding place, the creature leapt at him with a wild cry. Loki gasped, reeling back as a blade opened his arm to the bone. Another savage slash drove him back, cutting a gash through the leather across his chest. Then the Man was gone, a pale flash in the dark, bare feet flying.
Loki fell against the wall, too stunned to move, his blood dripping onto the creaking floorboards. Half-laughing, half-cursing, he waited for the skin to knit, ruthlessly ignoring the pain.
How very interesting.
--
He'd cut an ilthiya! Sid swung around the corner of a henhouse and dropped, rolling under it. The stench of poultry droppings enveloped him, making him gag, but at least it would mask his scent. Everyone knew about ilthi senses. Clutching Bragg's long-bladed knife against his chest, Sid lay in the filth, panting for breath, staring up at the floor of the rickety structure. The hens, alarmed at his presence, cackled loudly, hopping around on their perches and sending a fresh cascade of dirty straw and offal through the slats. With luck, the noise would drown the din of his pounding heart.
The chickens grew even more agitated, squawking and banging against the walls. With a groan and a loud crack, the henhouse was gone! In horror, Sid stared up into the pale, handsome face of death.
The ilthiya reached for him, but Sid was already moving, on his feet and off at a full run. There was a rush of wind at his back. An arm came around his waist, terrible in its strength. He was pulled tight against a hard, cool body.
He lost all reason then, striking out with the knife, kicking and screaming. The ilthiya tightened his grip savagely, crushing the air from Sid's lungs. Effortlessly, the monster knocked the knife from Sid's hand then flung him away. Sid hit the side of a cottage hard and slid, dazed, into a heap on the ground.
"You have arathiga," The ilthiya's voice came in echoes. "Spirit."
Sid blinked, seeing two of the monster.
"Go to hell," he slurred.
He was picked up and sent flying again. There was a long, confusing moment after he landed when he wasn't sure about anything. A foot came down on the back of his neck, pushing his face into the dirt.
Through the ringing in his ears, Sid heard another voice. There was laughter. The weight on his neck disappeared, but before he could gather his wits, he was lifted effortlessly from the ground and dangled like a small child. More ilthi! Through tears of pain, Sid counted three, no four of them, tall, elegant, deadly.
One looked at Sid, lip curled, and spoke. There was laughter from the others. Sid's gaze slid back and forth. He saw only these four. Hanging limply in the ilthiya's grip, he whimpered piteously and was rewarded by a slight loosening of the iron fingers. With a desperate twist, he kicked out and by some miracle, got the ilthiya right in the groin. Sid was released as if he was afire and, with the creature's howl echoing in his head, he took off.
Blood pounding in his ears, each step jarring his bruised and aching bones, Sid ran like he had never run before. A small voice in his heart railed at him, telling him he had no chance; no one could outrun the ilthi, but he kept going.
He didn't make it.
They were all around him, lips drawn back in angry snarls. Long incisors flashed in the moonlight. Sid dropped and rolled under one who reached out for him. Regaining his feet, he kept going. Ahead, he saw the gleam of steel in the dust. The knife! Frantically, he leapt for it. His fingertips made purchase on the handle, but immediately a black boot came down hard on the blade, snapping it. Sid screamed in rage and despair, rolling away.
A cruel hand tangled in his hair and dragged him up. He saw gleaming eyes and felt hot breath on his face. Another hand came around his neck and tightened.
"Et!"
The dark vampire seemed to have authority over the others, for they fell back at once. Sid was thrown contemptuously to the dirt. No fight left in him, he curled up tightly and waited for whatever they would do.
"Behave and you won't be hurt," said the ilthiya.
Again, the creature's terrible strength lifted him as if he weighed nothing. Binders locked Sid's wrists at his back. Long, tapered fingers, inhumanly cool, lifted his face to the moonlight, turned it this way and that. Sid kept his gaze on the creature's midsection, the muscles well-defined beneath the gleaming leather.
Sid heard sobbing. Another ilthiya appeared, herding before him a man and a woman. The newcomer greeted the dark one respectfully then shoved his prisoners forward to stand beside Sid. The couple stood weeping and wringing their hands. They paid Sid not the slightest attention.
Singly and in groups, more of the villagers were returned, until nearly all were gathered with Sid in the commons. Men, women and children, they huddled under the keen, merciless gaze of the ilthi and knew they were doomed.
Then, from the dark came men, human men. They were dressed in close-fitting leather breeches and boots, their leather vests worked with red embroidery. Armbands of some dark metal circled muscular arms and wrists. All carried whips and short-bladed daggers. The air cracked as they snapped the whips over the villagers' heads.
"Keep together!" they shouted. "Try to escape and you'll die! Keep together!"
Sid knew who they were: bred-slaves, dogs of the ilthi who turned on their own kind without hesitation or remorse. More ilthiyan than human -- the scum. He looked at them with bitter hatred as he stumbled forward with the other prisoners, through the village to the road. Three flatbed wagons waited, each fitted with a large cage. Caring for neither aged infirmity nor extreme youth, the herders drove the villagers into the cages and slammed shut the doors.
Crammed tightly against the bars by the press of sweating, terrified villagers, his hands bound behind him, Sid twisted around, looking back as the wagons pulled away. The ilthi stood in the road with the handful of villagers left behind. As he watched, the demons moved in around the cowering humans, blocking them from view.
Sid heard the screams even after the wagons rounded a bend and drove out of sight.
Beloved of the Dark, riders of stars, we follow our road ever onward. Galaxies spin out behind us, years without number. It is a journey with no end, no rest or home ahead. The clan heart is broken, our curse unleashed. We will hunt the hunters until, at the end of time, we forget who we are.
from The Lament of the Ilthi, 0881ITC/1057UTC
Loki cradled his glass and stared out across the hillside. It would be dawn soon. Most of his brother's guests had already retired to their tents, sated from the adrenalin-rich blood of the night's game. In the distance, downwind from the main encampment, he saw the ruddy glow of the disposal fires.
He took a sip from his glass. The richness of the liquid, even hours after the kill, flooded his senses. Blood wine: that most intoxicating of drinks. It came from humans slain while in mortal duress. Within the ilthiyan borders these days, it was barely legal. Some said it was addictive. Loki finished his off in a single gulp and set down the glass. His head sang.
Enough was enough. The hunt had been amusing in its own barbaric way, but he was growing bored. If he left now, he would avoid the worst of the daylight.
Loki left the pavilion. Down the hillside he strolled, past the tents of the nobles, where slaves were sealing the edges against the coming sunlight. His brother's tent was in view, palatial, surrounded by his guards. Loki kept going, over the hill and through the kitchen tents where the ground was soaked with blood. He remembered the screams. Lady Mika had danced to them, aroused by the sound.
Further on, slaves were still dragging carcasses to the fires. Three dozen humans had been captured: a small number, all in all, at least as human villages went these days.
The cages stood a short distance from the fires. They had been full of humans at the start of the feast. All were empty now save one. Loki went to it.
By the cage door, the guard sprang to attention. Inside, Loki's captive huddled in a corner, knees bent to his chest, head down. When the guard pushed open the door, he flinched, but didn't look up.
"On your feet, slave!" the guard said harshly. "His Highness has come for you."
The bowed head lifted. Shadowed eyes stared balefully from a thin, bruised face. Beneath the dirt, the young Man was pale as moonlight. On his cheeks were the marks of tears. He looked away, toward the fires.
"We're leaving," said Loki in Human. "You can come or you can die."
For a moment, it seemed the youth would choose death, but he finally uncurled and stood up. Silent, still shackled, he walked out of the cage. Stepping close, Loki discerned a problem at once.
"You stink."
There was no response, not so much as a flicker. Loki looked to the horizon. A line of pearl marked the coming sunlight. There was still time before the radiation grew too strong. He changed direction, pushing the young human before him, further downhill to a place where the trees crowded and a stream wandered through. On the bank, he tore what was left of the Man's clothing away and gave him a firm shove. The youth cried out and fell face first into the water. Wading in after him, Loki took handfuls of fine sand from the stream bed and scrubbed the filth from the creature's skin. The human objected vociferously, struggling and swearing and kicking wildly at him.
"Do you need help, Your Highness?"
Loki pushed the human's face under and held it, looking around. His brother's Huntmaster stood on the bank, hands on his hips.
"No, thank you," Loki called back while his captive thrashed desperately, trying to get his head out of the stream. The hunter grinned and walked off.
Loki straightened, examining his choking, red-faced acquisition critically. Clean enough. He pulled the Man onto the bank where he collapsed, exhausted, gasping, wet and covered with gooseflesh. After giving him a moment or to regain his breath, Loki hauled him to his feet.
"That way," he said, pointing left.
Stumbling, the human went.
The flyers were parked on a broad, level spot between the hills. The human stopped dead at the sight of them, eyes going very wide. Loki gave him an impatient push. Behind them, the sun was rising.
"Move!"
Inside the aircraft, the youth stared around as if mesmerized. He was probably scared witless to be in one of the cursed ilthiyan machines. But he didn't resist when Loki adjusted his binders, locking him by a wrist to a seat in the cabin. Leaving him perched on the edge of the cushion, pale and round-eyed, Loki went to the cockpit and settled into the pilot's seat.
Powering up the flyer, he set the windshield for its darkest level and lifted off. Outside, the morning brightened. The flyer sped across forest and hill, leaving the wilderness behind. Farms appeared, acre after acre of fields planted with the crops used to feed ilthiyan herds and slaves. Ahead was the dark line marking the edge of the ocean cloud bank.
Loki could make out the mountains now, a ragged stretch of peaks holding the clouds in, clouds that shielded the entire coast from the direct rays of the sun. The flyer banked and began to climb, slipping into their gauzy mass. He switched to automatic pilot as the visibility dropped to nothing.
The flyer angled sharply, steeply up. Moments later, it cleared the mountains and descended, dropping beneath the cloud ceiling. The ocean spread out beneath him, turbulent and steel grey.
It rained, sheets of water obscuring a scattering of small, mountainous islands reaching out into sea. Long ago, the ilthi had settled among them, using the many sheltered cliffs and caves as homes. The eternal clouds kept the killing sun at bay and the islands' inaccessibility kept the settlers safe from the natives who, in the early days of colonization, had far outnumbered the invaders.
Neminora was the last and largest island of the chain, well beyond sight of the mainland on the best of days. Most of the city had been built up the island's leeward side, great stone terraces carved from the rock, a giant's stairway to the island's summit. High walls kept the sea winds back, allowing the establishment of fine gardens stocked with plants favoring the heavily-filtered sunlight. The court facilities were here, and the sprawling, elegant apartments belonging to the nobles in attendance to the king.
At the very top of the island stood the royal palace, Sviatoslav House. It was built in the ancient style, a collection of low buildings surrounding gardens and pools. Beneath it, a warren of natural tunnels riddled the island, a subterranean city where the very first settlers had taken shelter. The tunnels and caves were mostly empty now, filled with unused machinery. The ilthi had moved to the outermost caves, transforming them into the elegant, terraced apartments favored by the courtiers. Loki's own room was there, near the top of the island, only a short walk from the palace.
The flyer link chimed softly. Korasa, head of island security, appeared on the screen in front of him.
"Good morning, Your Highness. Welcome home. How was the hunt?"
"Very diverting."
"They say there's nothing quite like the blood of a wild human."
"They would be right, Lieutenant."
Korasa grinned and signed off, leaving Loki to sit back while the flyer locked onto a landing pad and came in. Loki shut it off and left the cockpit.
His catch was curled up sideways in the seat, asleep. Loki stopped, looking down in surprise. He'd figured the boy's hair to be brown beneath all the dirt, but now, clean and dry, he saw it was a dark reddish brown, like the leaves of an autumn oak. Most unusual.
The young Man woke with a gasp and looked frantically around when Loki unlocked his binders. The flyer door opened and Fema appeared. The steward's eyes widened at the sight of the human, but he was too well trained to show any other reaction.
"Welcome home, Your Highness," he said. "A successful outing?"
"It had its moments," replied Loki. "As you can see, Fema, I brought a memento of the occasion."
"Y-yes, Highness." Fema looked vaguely appalled. "Shall I have him taken to the cattle pens?"
The human was very still, barely breathing, eyes sliding from one ilthiya to the other. Loki shook his head. "No. I think I'll keep him. He's a pretty thing."
"He's wild!"
"Indeed, he is!" agreed Loki. "Doesn't even speak ilthi." Then, adding in Human, "Training him should be interesting, don't you think?"
Brown eyes flashed. Fema's gaze went to the youth's bared throat and the vein that pulsed so rapidly there. He licked his lips and smiled tightly. "If you say so, Highness." He turned and beckoned to a slave standing on the ramp behind him. "Take his Highness' bags," he ordered.
The slave bowed and hurried to do so. Loki's human watched with narrowed eyes.
"Let's go," Loki told him. "What are you called, by the way?"
The human stared at him, then at the slave. "Sid," he said.
"It will do," Loki decided. Nice and short. "Move."
Sid followed the ilthiya from the flyer, across a windy causeway to the main island. It was raining, and the paving stones underfoot were soft and wet with moss. They crossed a broad terrace and started up a stairway cut into the hillside. Rain and stone walls obscured much of Sid's view. At regular intervals walkways led off the stairs, meandering off into the mist.
Now and then, through gaps in the wall on the right, he glimpsed low bushes with bright red flowers and small trees growing gnarled and twisted into strange shapes. On his left, the island rose steeply toward the summit. Cut into the rock were balconies and walkways.
He quickened his pace to keep up with the ilthi's long strides. They turned off the stairs at last, crossing a small patio to a door cut into the rock.
The uniformed ilthiya left them there. Sid's captor gave him a push through it, saying something in their heathen language.
Inside was a vaulted corridor, its walls plastered and painted. Lamps burned in sconces, their flames bright and steady. As they proceeded down the hall, Sid saw more corridors leading off to the right and left.
The main corridor ended in a huge, round room. An elegant staircase led up to a balcony that circled it, overlooking the shining marble floor. A chandelier hung from the domed roof, its crystals throwing bright bits of rainbow all around.
Doors opened and humans appeared. They swarmed around the ilthiya, taking his wet cloak, kneeling to remove his boots and replacing them with slippers. Sid finally heard the name of his captor: Loki. It seemed, from the bowing and scraping, that he was a prince or very high lord.
All the humans wore black and red uniforms, tight-fitting leggings and thigh-length, high-necked, sleeveless tunics. Around their wrists were silver bracelets worked with an intricate black and red enameled design. They did not speak to each other, but went about their tasks quickly and efficiently before vanishing again.
Where the hell was he? If only he hadn't fallen asleep! It was just that he had been so tired and there had been something oddly soothing about the movement of the flyer.
Sid followed the ilthiya up the stairs, across the balcony, and into another corridor. Halfway down it, at a pair of double doors, the prince stopped and looked expectantly at Sid. Sid stared back then realized what the ilthiya wanted. The vampire's stare turned into a glare. After a moment's consideration, Sid stepped forward and pushed the doors open.
Beyond was a spacious bedroom. On the far wall were tall glass doors, rain running down them in rivulets. Sid was drawn to them at once. He couldn't see much outside: a balcony with a carved balustrade and the sea.
"Come here, Sid."
Sid turned, mouth going dry as dust. The ilthiya settled into a high backed chair before a cold fireplace. The shadow of the tall, canopied bed fell over him. Sid found he couldn't move.
"Sid?" There was warning in the deep voice. Sid found the strength to come stand before the prince. He tried not to look at the long, beautiful mouth. His heart beat, panicked and fast.
"Light the fire," said the ilthiya. "It's damp in here."
Sid turned and went to the hearth, dropping to his knees on the icy stone. Angrily, he tried to stop trembling.
"I'm not hungry." There was a hint of amusement in the vampire's voice.
Sid looked for wood and saw an ornately carved wooden box piled high with sticks about the thickness of his thumb. He recognized them, having seen the like once in a Jessmont, one of the border towns.
"Brecoal."
"You've seen it before?" There was surprise in the demon's voice.
"They sell it on the black market," replied Sid.
He'd never handled the stuff before; it was fearsomely expensive and jealously guarded by those who'd possessed any. Brecoal resembled charcoal, but when Sid picked a piece out of the box, it felt like metal and was much heavier than it looked.
"Do they?" murmured the ilthiya, looking thoughtful. "I've been hearing something of that lately. Isn't it forbidden to use such things? Unclean technology: isn't that what your sages call it?"
Unclean. Damned. Obscene. Blasphemous. The sages claimed the ilthi used the same kind of ancient machinery Gaia had destroyed so long ago in the great Cleansing. Jessa herself had written an entire book on the perils of such evil creations.
Sid threw the coals onto the grate then looked for the flint. It was, of course, not an ordinary one. A flick of his fingernail against it and the flame appeared. Ignoring his impulse to do it again and again, he lit the fuel sticks and watched them catch fire instantly. There was no smoke.
"What clan?" The ilthiya's silvery eyes were fixed on Sid's left wrist and the tattoo he wore. If people didn't look closely, they mistook it for a real clan-mark, which was its purpose, after all. Still, he was surprised the ilthiya knew about such things.
"Barrett," he lied. Not that it would matter, probably. He'd heard that in ilthiyan lands, none of the humans cared about clans and blood-bindings. That was how deeply the ilthi had twisted the nature of their Men.
"What crime did you commit to be chained to that post?"
Sid stared into the fire. Even the flames were pale. In spite of that, he could feel the heat flowing out from them.
"I asked you a question, slave."
Sid shrugged.
The blow came with inhuman speed. Stars went off in Sid's vision and he slid across the floor to crash into the wall. Through watering eyes, he looked up, trying to catch his breath. Prince Loki was still in his chair, unruffled, watching him.
"Just a reminder," said the ilthiya, "You belong to me. The sooner you accept your new reality, the less often I'll have to resort to such unpleasantness."
Sid lifted a shaking hand to his lip. His fingers came away, bloody. Fear was a sickness in his belly.
"Let's try again, shall we? What crime did you commit to be chained to that post?"
"S-stealing."
"I thought it might be something like that. I suggest you put that career behind you from now on."
Was he supposed to respond? Wretchedly, Sid could only duck his head, throat tight with bitterness and fear.
"The first thing to do is clean you up properly," the prince decided. "After that..." Loki fell silent a moment. "The language barrier is inconvenient."
Sid didn't reply, afraid that the words trembling on his tongue would trigger another blow.
"I wonder." The deep voice trailed off. Sid hunched his shoulders, aware that those curiously light eyes rested on him. He was relieved when a knock on the door drew Loki's attention.
A man and woman came in. The man carried a small tray with a glass and a carafe filled with red liquid. The stuff was still warm; the crystal goblet clouded with condensation. Loki said something to the woman, who looked at Sid. She seemed uneasy, but bowed.
"Go with her."
"Why?"
The slender eyebrows arched. Sid's mouth was dry, but he met the ilthiya's silver gaze without flinching. Fortunately for him, the light that appeared in them was amusement.
"Bath time, boy, a real one this time."
The ilthiya picked up the glass. Wrenching his gaze away, trying not to think of what it held, Sid nodded and followed the woman out of the room.
She took him to a bathing chamber several doors down from the prince's chamber. A high, marble tub stood in the middle of the floor. As it filled, the woman tossed in handfuls of herbs and flower petals. When the water sloshed a few inches from the top, she gestured for him to get in.
Sid discovered immediately that she meant to wash him herself. He tried to push her hand away and was slapped, hard. After that, he huddled in the warm water, miserable and humiliated. When she gestured for him to stand, he realized that she meant to wash his most private places.
Shaking his head, he slid down further into the water, hunching his shoulders as she scolded him in incomprehensible ilthiyan. Finally, exasperated, she hit him with her long-handled brush. That was all he could stand. Swearing at her, he leapt out of the water, splashing it in all directions. A towel hung on the back of the door; he grabbed it as he raced through, sliding on wet feet into the corridor.
By now, the hag was screeching like a stuck pig behind him. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Sid looked to the right and the left. From the latter direction, near the end of the hall, two slaves were staring at him. Sid turned and ran to the right.
In the time of Cleansing, all the people had turned their faces from Gaia. They had abandoned the memories of life and death, Her rhythms and songs. And so they were lost.
from Histories, Volume 1, Part 1
The fire burned merrily and Loki sighed in contentment. Home, at last. He picked up his reader, still laying where he'd left it before the hunt. Before Jessahana was the latest book by Tarka's premier anthropologist, Braxton Fenn. Loki hoped it would prove to be more than mere historical speculation.
Human history on Gaia was a curious thing. It had been intriguing scholars since the ilthi had first arrived on the planet. The existence of the human's First Sage had always been dismissed as mere folklore by most ilthi, and after one hundred and fifty years of academic and field study, the evidence for her actual existence was still a bit sketchy. Maybe Fenn had new light to shed on the mystery.
His bedroom door flew open noisily. "Loki!"
"Ah, Katya!" Regretfully, Loki set the reader aside. His elder sister bore down on him, Fema fluttering impotently behind her. He added with gentle irony, "Do come in."
By law and tradition, an ilthiyan monarch chose either the eldest son or eldest daughter as heir to the throne. Alric and Katya were therefore the bitterest of rivals. It amused Loki, who was not above fanning the flames from time to time.
"I can't believe you went on such a barbaric expedition!" exclaimed Katya by way of greeting. She came to the fireplace, filmy skirts trailing out behind her. "We aren't animals! It's disgusting!"
"I was just curious -- back to our roots and all that. Unfortunately, I ruined one of my favorite pairs of... Do sit down, Kat, you're making me dizzy pacing about."
Katya threw herself onto the chair across from him, the image of petulance. "Everyone is talking. It won't be long before Father hears about it. Violating the Accord is no light matter in his estimation!"
Loki smiled sweetly on his sister. "I'm aware of Father's feelings in this matter, Katya. Why are you so upset? If Alric falls from grace, your own star cannot fail to shine so much brighter."
He watched that sink in. She almost smiled then shrugged as if it were of no consequence.
"It's not that I have any love for the cattle, of course, but it's unwise to upset Father these days," she replied. "It's impossible to know what will set him off. And then there's Maura..."
"It's a good thing he has Maura. She keeps him grounded."
"But she's human!" Katya burst out. "At his age, it's not -- not seemly!"
"By all means," invited Loki. "Tell him so."
His sister glared. "It's not the same as you and your pleasure jaunts into Armistice! This woman gives him advice!"
"The humans aren't stupid, Kat."
"The humans are food! If she were ilthiyan and rhorani, it would make sense, but..." she broke off, shaking her head and adopting a grave expression. "It's only one more instance of his bizarre behavior. I fear, brother, our father is going into Decline."
Loki looked longingly at his reader. Katya's ambitions wouldn't be half as tedious if she were only more subtle.
"How many other Wanderers are still alive?" she demanded.
"I have no idea. Not many, I would think."
"Of course not. The Landing was two hundred years ago! Most of the true Wanderers are long dead. How could he not be in Decline?"
Outside, the rain had slackened. The overcast sky lightened. Loki had the sudden impulse to leave Neminora again, to flee to Armistice. Usually, he liked to play with her a bit, tease her, but not today.
Several days of combined sensual and intellectual pleasure -- the notion was fiendishly attractive.
"First, you would have to convince Adrian," he pointed out. "Good luck with that."
Her retort was forestalled by a commotion outside the room: shouting and footsteps pounding past his door.
Damn!
Loki jumped to his feet and was across the room in four long strides. He reached for the door, only to have it burst open, revealing a wild-eyed Fema.
"Your Highness!"
Looking past the frazzled steward, Loki saw a crowd of slaves -- and guards. "What is it?" he demanded, suspecting that he knew all to well.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but it's your wild human. He's run off."
It would be awhile, decided Loki, before he'd have a chance to read his book.
The ilthiyan castle was a labyrinth of intersecting corridors and stairways. After Sid's initial, panicked flight, he found an empty room and hid there, sinking to a crouch, his back to the wall, struggling to catch his breath.
What are you doing, fool? You're on a damned island!
Boats! There was a technology he understood! This was an island, after all. There had to be boats! They would be by the water and that meant going down the island's steep, rocky sides.
Getting to his feet, he pressed his ear to the door, but heard nothing yet. He was in another bedroom, not as large as that of the prince, but surely containing something of use. Sid ran to the wardrobe and pulled it open.
Clothes! Eagerly, he dragged some garments out. They were too big and very elegant, but he didn't care. He pulled on a fine lawn shirt, so large the tails fell to his knees. All the belts were too big so, in the end, he found a long scarf in a drawer. Tying it around his waist, he ran for the windows and pushed open the casement, leaning out.
A fierce, damp wind buffeted the island's steep, rocky cliffs, but Sid figured that someone accustomed to climbing in and out of strange places might just be able to handle it. He scrambled out the window, and finding footholds just below it, started down.
He avoided the stairways, windows and terraces sprouting everywhere from the rock. It was tricky going, the cliffs slick with sea-mist. The wind tried constantly to pry him loose. As he got closer to the ocean, he began to see how turbulent it truly was, whirlpools, eddies, and wild waves crashing this way and that.
He heard a low hum and ducked into a crevice. A flyer! It came out of the east, a bright silver spot growing swiftly larger. As he watched, it circled, skimming the waves before disappearing around a rocky promontory.
Abruptly, Sid changed direction, going after the flyer. It took forever to make his way around the island, but he finally saw it. Sheltered by the bend in the cliffs, the wind dropped away to nothing. Several dozen feet below Sid's perch, connected to the main island by its stone causeway, was a rough, flat circle of stone standing well above the waves. It looked as if a giant hand had sheared away a smaller island, leaving a perfectly level, almost glass-like platform. As he watched, the flyer settled down upon it, landing neatly amidst several others already there.
Sid didn't see anything that looked like a boat. Nor, if the truth were told, did he much like the chances of one on such a violent sea. He looked again at the flyers.
The sages promised eternal damnation to those who used such things, but what other choice did he have? The ilthi would surely kill him if they caught him now and take their time in doing it. That frightened him more than Gaia's wrath.
The causeway was deserted when he reached it. Skin prickling, vibrantly aware of the many windows looking down on him, he didn't hurry. Instead, he strolled along as if he had every legitimate reason to be here. Once among the flyers, he ducked quickly under the nearest, his heart thumping madly. Its entrance ramp was down, as clear an invitation as Sid had ever seen. He scooted up and inside.
It was empty. To his relief, the craft was identical to the one in which he'd arrived, even down to the color of the upholstery. He approached the seat he remembered Prince Loki occupying and gingerly sat down. Facing him was an array of dials, buttons, and things less easily identified.
Before he'd fallen asleep, Sid remembered the ilthiya pushing some of them, waving a hand in front of others. It hadn't looked very hard.
Through the window, he saw the other flyers, but no guards yet. He stared at the controls and made up his mind. Surely Gaia would forgive him for using whatever means possible to escape the ilthi! Praying for Her favor, he pushed a button.
Nothing happened. He took a deep breath and pressed another. Still nothing. For the first time, he wondered if some kind of magic was required. Then, with a tremendous roar, the flyer came to life.
Panic almost sent him scrambling from the seat; triumph and curiosity kept him there. Everything in front of him lit up. He waved his hand in the same general place he remembered the prince doing it. The results were immediate. The flyer turned and there was a tremendous crash. The jolt sent Sid to the floor.
On the control board, something crackled and he heard shouting, tinny and muffled. Stumbling to his feet, Sid saw one of the small glass rectangles flicker to life and the image of an ilthiya appear. Falling back in the pilot's seat, Sid began pushing buttons madly, not caring what happened.
There was a sudden, stomach-turning lurch and the island fell away beneath him. He was airborne!
Now, which direction? Which direction?
Didn't matter.
He swept his hand to the left, clinging to the seat with his other hand as the flyer whipped around and start east.
On the board before him, all the screens sprang to life, all kinds of images on them: Neminor dwindling rapidly behind him, the endless sea before and beneath him, a uniformed ilthiya shouting unintelligible threats.
Unexpected, the flyer slowed, then turned around and started back. Frantically, Sid waved his hand before the steering mechanism, but this time, nothing happened. The ilthiya on screen was replaced by another and Sid froze. Prince Loki!
"You little fool," said the vampire coldly. "You will regret this."
Desperately, Sid punched buttons, all in vain.
"I have remote control of the ship," continued the ilthiya. "You may as well prepare yourself for the landing."
Sid jumped up, abandoning the cockpit. He looked wildly around the flyer and spied a glass-faced cupboard built into the cabin's curving wall. There was printing there, in ilthi, but the meaning of the red flame painted beneath the words was easy enough to figure out. Inside was a coiled hose and a small axe! Sid slammed his fist against the lock. The door sprang open and, at once, a fine mist of water filled the cabin.
He grabbed the axe and wrestled it from its hooks. Then it was back to the cockpit. He began smashing everything in front of him. Sparks leapt from the exposed wiring; smoke began to fill the cabin. The flyer shuddered. On the little communication screen, Prince Loki's image winked out.
The flyer zigzagged erratically. Keeping tight hold of the axe, Sid staggered back to the main cabin. Bracing himself between two seats, he smashed at one of the windows, praying he stayed aloft long enough to break through.
He could see the ocean now, very close. Small islets of stone dotted the water all around. Redoubling his efforts, he was rewarded by a sudden crack appearing in the heavy glass. There was a crunching sound and the entire window, frame and all, fell out, vanishing into the sea below. Throwing down the axe, he went to the opening. Reminding himself that death by drowning was infinitely preferable to anything the ilthi would think up, he climbed through and launched himself into the arms of Gaia.
"He's dead. He must be!" Korasa steered the hoverer across two more islets. They were deserted. Behind them, floating on the open ocean, was the stolen flyer. Hoverers bobbed on the waves around it, men diving in and out of the water, carefully fixing precious anti-grav modules to the sinking aircraft.
"He's not dead," replied Loki, furious.
Katya was going to be livid! Of all the flyers to steal!
"But he will wish he was. Over there. The currents seem to lead in that direction."
Korasa, trying not to grin, directed their craft toward two islets joined by a string of rocks. As they approached, Loki glimpsed something pale among the waves and wet stone. Korasa swore under his breath and brought them in closer.
It was the human. The Man had managed to drag himself up onto the rocks, just above the reach of the waves, and lay there, unmoving. Loki rose.
"I should go, Your Highness" objected the lieutenant. "He might be dangerous!"
"He is dangerous," replied Loki shortly. "And he's my responsibility. Just keep the hoverer steady."
Sid was unconscious. He coughed up seawater when Loki lifted him into the basket, but didn't wake. When they were both back inside the craft, Loki threw him to the floor and returned to his seat beside Korasa.
Damn! He'd never considered the Man bold enough to steal a flyer! Next to him, Korasa's shoulders were shaking. A reluctant grin tugged at his own mouth.
A groan made him look around. His crazy slave was awake. Wet hair hung, dripping, over the young man's eyes. The shirt he'd stolen clung to his body, showing tantalizing hints of the warming flesh beneath. Loki turned away.
"We'll have to land on one of the upper pads," Korasa said, tilting his head toward the screen and the traffic-director busily calling out instructions. "The sea-pad is out of commission at the moment."
Onscreen, Loki could see it. The other flyers parked there had been banged up pretty good. Techs swarmed around them with tool-carts and diagnostic monitors. He gritted his teeth.
"Why didn't you just leave me to die out there?" The voice behind them was hoarse and bitter. "Do you think I'll ever be your slave, you son of a bitch?"
Korasa didn't understand human, but the young Man's tone was clear enough. The security chief swore and turned, but Loki laid a restraining hand on his arm. "I'll take care of this."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Loki rose. The human scrambled to his feet, stumbling backwards. He was covered with bruises and scrapes. Although his gaze was defiant, he could not hide the fine tremor in his hands or the swift beat of his pulse at his throat.
"You are a proud one, aren't you?" Loki observed softly.
"I'm a free man! You have no right to do this!"
"Your village was on ilthiyan land," replied Loki. "By the law of both our peoples, your lives and property are forfeit!" He took a step toward the Man, who took another step back.
"That's not true! And, anyway, it wasn't my village!"
"That doesn't matter. You were there." Looking into that fiery gaze, Loki decided to test an idea. Reaching out, he seized the youth by his bedraggled shirt and pulled him forward. Before Sid could react, Loki kissed him, hard and punishing.
Repudiation of the ilthi and their things was not the only creed held among the wild humans; their native religion also spoke forcefully against certain sexual behaviors. Men did not lie with men, nor women with women. Sid's reaction was immediate. He stiffened, a small sound of shock escaping him. When he tried to push away, Loki caught his wrists and pushed them behind him, pulling the youth hard against his own body.
Then, as suddenly as he had struck, he released the human. Flinging Sid back into the nearest seat, Loki returned to the cockpit. Korasa, grinning, shook his head. There wasn't another word from the slave.
A crowd was waiting for them when they landed. A full unit of guards surrounded the flyers while behind them, Katya and a collection of curious, scandalized courtiers jostled for a better look.
Korasa followed Loki from the hoverer, dragging the human with him. Sid wore a dazed expression and when Loki set a hand on his shoulder, he jerked wildly.
"What is going on!" Katya pushed through the guards, eyes ablaze. The look she gave the wobbly slave was lethal. For a moment, holding his breath, Loki wondered if she would descend into Frenzy.
Deftly, Loki pushed Sid behind him. "Now Kat..."
"Don't you 'now Kat' me, little brother! Give him to me! I'll tear his throat out right here! My poor flyer!"
The young human edged closer to Loki, shivering.
"You can use mine until yours is repaired." The offer was out before Loki thought about it.
She laughed then her eyebrows drew together. "What?"
Was he out of his mind?
"It was my fault. He's not properly broken. Take mine. I don't think yours was that badly damaged. Two weeks with the techs, at the most."
"You aren't going to have him destroyed?" Her voice rose in disbelief.
A part of Loki was aghast. Loaning out his precious flyer for this scrap of a wild human? His grip on Sid's shoulder tightened. The boy made a small sound.
"I want him dead!" Katya declared.
Loki shrugged. "Fine," he said and, ignoring a twinge of regret, pushed the terrified youth at her. "But no flyer."
Naturally, then, she changed her mind. With an exclamation of disgust, she pushed him back. She was calming down. Relieved, Loki let himself relax, seeing a similar reaction around him. An ilthiya in Frenzy was a danger to everyone.
"All right," she said. "Take the animal!"
They had reached Subterra. Slaves sprang forward to open the door. She stopped just inside. "Were you serious? You're loaning me your flyer?"
"Yes. And take care of it. It's a beautiful machine."
"All right," she said. She fixed a thoughtful gaze on Sid, who stared back with wide, dazed eyes. "But keep your toy out of my sight, Loki. Unlike you and father, I know the humans' place in our lives."
Loki dragged the silent slave through the halls to his room. Inside, Sid, still unsteady, promptly lost his balance and went sprawling. Scooping him up again, Loki slammed him against the foot of the bed.
The human sagged toward the floor. Loki caught his wrists and, using the stolen scarf, bound his hands to the bed post. A savage jerk tore away the tattered, blood-stained shirt.
The nearest thing to hand was a belt, a supple, black leather strap, sharp-edged and solid. Loki's first blow raised an angry welt across Sid's slender back. The youth gasped, but it sounded suspiciously like a curse. Loki smiled grimly.
The belt cracked, loud against flesh, leaving crimson stripes atop the cuts and bruises already marking the human. Sid turned his head, pressing his face against his upturned arm. His body jerked with each stroke, but he kept stubbornly silent. It was not until the sixth blow that Loki tore a cry from him.
Throwing down his belt, conscious of stirring in his blood, Loki stepped up to press his body against Sid's lacerated backside. The boy's breath hitched. When Loki wrapped his fingers in Sid's long hair and pulled back his head, there was no resistance.
The human's lower lip was swollen, bitten through and bloody. Dark, tear-washed eyes stared up at Loki, dazed with pain. He was close to the end of his endurance.
Unable to resist, Loki leaned down and covered those battered lips with his own. A shiver ran through the human; fresh tears welled. Licking the blood from Sid's lips, Loki tasted adrenalin and a host of other intoxicating substances. Thrusting his tongue deep, the prince explored his troublesome possession. The youth trembled, but no longer had the strength to struggle.
He cried out when Loki untied his wrists and carried him to the bed, but when the ilthiya bent him over the side of it, he did not renew his struggles or protests. Instead, he reached out to grip the coverlet with swollen fingers and moved his body in a way that told Loki he was not an innocent.
The fire of lust was in Loki now. Like all ilthi, once it had him, it would not be denied. He made no effort to hold it back; this was punishment, after all, was it not?
Sid screamed when Loki took him, his scraped knuckles going white against the crimson coverlet. He wept openly, breath coming in agonized gasps, slim body rocked by the ilthiya's thrusts. Pleas tumbled from his lips. Loki was only dimly aware of it all, the fire in his blood becoming a conflagration that bore him on an accelerating spiral of ecstasy. Climax shook him, his shout drowning out the human's sobs.
When his mind cleared, he found himself lying atop his slave, mouth against Sid's ear. Chalk-white, eyes closed, the human seemed barely to breathe. If it were not for the tears that still leaked from beneath the dark smudge of his eyelashes, Loki might have thought him unconscious.
The prince went to clean himself off. When he returned, Sid had not moved. He gasped when Loki picked him up and carried him to the hearth. There, he curled up, covering his face with his arm.
Loki went to his dresser and, after digging around, found the vial of sopora. Returning to the hearth, he settled on the floor beside his half-conscious slave. He lifted the youth's head and forced a mouthful of the drug down his throat. Sid choked and gasped, but swallowed most of it. The look he gave Loki was lost, almost childlike.
"Do not disobey me again," Loki said quietly.
Sid shook his head, a tiny, frightened motion. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Loki gently smoothed damp hair from his face. He was still holding Sid when the youth slipped into unconsciousness.
Adored and beloved
Star in the Dark
Rhorani together
Heart sings to heart
The wild light binds us
Your blood is mine
Rhorani together
Bound up in time
....Ziv Rakha, Bloodsong, 0388ITC/4657UTC
Sid woke to silence. His body felt heavy and sore. He stared across white linen sheets and saw a luxuriously furnished room. It took a moment to remember where he was. Heart beating faster, he rolled over. Next to him slept the ilthiyan prince, his back to Sid, dark hair everywhere on the pillow. Memories of last night's assault rushed back in an ugly tide.
For long moments, Sid didn't move, frozen with fear. Then, when the ilthiya continued to breathe slowly and deeply, Sid carefully slid from the bed. Expecting to trigger an avalanche of pain when he set his feet to the floor, he discovered, aside from slight discomfort, nothing really hurt very much. How could that be? Twisting gingerly around to look at his backside, he saw a few lines of faded pink where last night there had been blazing agony.
"I had you treated, of course," came a sleepy, amused voice from the bed. "We ilthi are rough. If we didn't take care of our slaves, they wouldn't last very long."
"What do you care?" muttered Sid, clenching his fists, heart jumping. "We're just animals to you anyway."
"You are just animals," agreed the prince serenely. "It's why I showed mercy. As a wild human, you don't really know any better, do you?"
Furious, Sid opened his mouth, but Prince Loki chose that moment to sit up and run a hand through the fall of midnight that was his hair. Sid's retort died on his lips. For a moment, he was transfixed by the ilthiya's lean, muscular torso, the broad shoulders and powerful arms. Out of the confusion of last night's memories came one of being carried to the hearth, of being given a drink as sweet as roseberry juice. He remembered how gentle those arms had been, how carefully he'd been laid on the warm stones.
The ilthiya smiled.
It wasn't fair! How could a monster be so beautiful, so cruel one moment and kind the next? Sid reached desperately for pieces of his scattering outrage.
"You're no stranger to male sex, are you?" continued the ilthiya.
This time, it was the heat of shame that brought the flush to Sid's face. He shrugged, quick and angry.
"A thief and a whore. Ah, well..." The prince fell back into the pillow, yawning. "At least you aren't completely ignorant. Perhaps you'll need less instruction than I feared."
For one heartbreaking moment, Sid remembered Kip, remembered the hushed laughter in the hay barn, the warmth of that precious, forbidden moment.
"I was not a whore!" he whispered.
"Then I do beg your pardon." It was clear Prince Loki didn't much care. "Do you see that silver plate on the wall beside the door?"
Sid looked. It was rectangular, about the size of a book. A row of lights blinked across the bottom of it.
"That's a domestic link panel," said the ilthiya. "Press the green button."
Simmering, Sid crossed the room and stabbed at it.
"It summons a slave. I trust there will be no nonsense about your bath this morning?"
The guards who took him to the bath chamber said things to him in ilthiyan and shoved him around. He stonily endured it. A numbness settled in and the realization that there might indeed be no escape, that this would truly be his life henceforth.
He was allowed to bathe himself this time, but the guards remained in the room, their incomprehensible conversation falling around Sid like rain. He wondered at his mostly-healed welts, surreptitiously running a finger over them where he could, not quite believing that it had been only last night the ilthiya had laid them there.
His guards returned him to the prince's chamber, clean and damp, spirits low. Sid was left standing just inside the bedroom door, uncertain of what to do next.
The prince stood before a tall, gilded mirror, locking a buckle around the cuff on his leather coat. A bit of fine lace peeped out from beneath it.
"I've been called away for a bit," he announced, not turning around. "There is clothing." He gestured carelessly to a chair. Sid discovered black leggings and a sleeveless tunic, all edged with red; the house uniform. He didn't care. It was something to wear, something to cover his nakedness.
A knock announced a slave bearing a covered tray. He stared at Sid with open curiosity.
Food! Suddenly, Sid was desperately, ravenously hungry. His mouth filled with water as the smells enveloped him: smoky bacon, cheese and the yeasty aroma of fresh-baked bread.
"I'm going now," said the prince. "You, however, are staying here. Leave without permission and last night will seem like the gentlest of lovemaking."
Sid nodded, watching jealously as the tray was laid on a table in front of a window. As soon as the house slave withdrew, he fell upon it. He had no idea when the prince left the room.
Katya was right about one thing. Alric's hunt had attracted the king's attention. Loki had been unpleasantly surprised when a knock on his door had revealed not his freshly washed slave, but a Man wearing the uniform of Sviatoslav House. The human, bowing low, had handed over a bit of note-paper. The scrawled message demanded his presence within the hour.
His: not Alric's.
"He couldn't have waited for Alric?" Loki ranted to Fema. "It was Alric's damned hunt! Everyone knows that! What does the evil old bastard want with me?"
Fema tried to look shocked. "Your Highness," he admonished weakly. "Such disrespect!"
Not being one of the heirs, Loki was usually ignored by his intimidating parent -- a state of affairs he preferred. What attention he had received growing up had usually been in the form of icy lectures. If he didn't think fast, Loki suspected this might be more of the same.
The answer came at once. He was stunned at its brilliance.
"Where are those things I found on the hunt?" he demanded. Fema hurried off, leaving him to search frantically through his wardrobe for something more formal.
By the time Sid returned, scrubbed, scowling, and pretending defiance, Loki had recovered his composure. Prudently stationing a burly slave at the door, he left his room, walking out of Subterra and into the fading dusk. He rehearsed his story, looking for weak spots.
It was still early and there were few people about. The exterior lamps came on as Loki ascended the hillside, their soft yellow light illuminating the labyrinth of outer walkways, the terraces and endless flights of steep, twisting stairs. After several minutes, Loki reached a fork in the path. A narrow stone stairway continued, zigzagging up the rocky escarpment, while the main path continued along the slope. He hesitated, looking toward the summit. From here, there was little to see except rock and the huge, leafy ferns that crowded Neminor's leeward side.
Loki drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders. If he loitered, the magic hour would pass and he would be in even deeper disgrace.
At the top of the island, obscured by ferns and the low-hanging branches of Neminora's dwarf trees, was a gate; before the gate stood a man in the uniform of the Ghost Riders, King Angelus' personal bodyguard. The Rider bowed and let him in.
Barking announced the approach of Maura's pet dog, a mound of fluff that bounced down the graveled path toward him. Loki stooped and gave the creature its tribute, a scratch behind the ears. "I see you're still around," he said. "Where's His Majesty?"
Tail wagging, tongue lolling, Mipsie rolled onto her back, inviting more liberties. Loki shook his head, grinning. Stepping over her, he continued on his way.
In the west courtyard, seated at a table under the low overhang of a porch, Loki found his father. Wrapped in a dark cloak against the night's slight chill, the king sat at a low table on which were scattered papers and readers and an open tablet.
The king was not alone. With him was the commander of his Ghosts, General Adrian Dare. Seeing Loki, Dare got to his feet, only to be waved back down by the king.
Angelus Mordecai Sviatoslav had ruled the ilthi since the Arrival and before. One of the last of the Wanderer generation, he showed no signs yet of entering Decline, Katya's fond hopes not withstanding. His hair was white and his eyes crimson, but those were the only signs of his age. Alric and Katya's greatest fear was that he should outlive them.
Loki reached the table and bowed, a cautious eye on Dare. "Good evening, Your Majesty, General. A fine night, is it not?"
"I assume," the king said coldly, "that you can explain why you saw fit to break the Accord."
"I?" Loki straightened, returning his father's sour look with one of bewildered innocence. "How have I done any such thing, Sire?"
"Don't play games with me, boy! Did you really think word of a hunt on human territory would not get back to me?"
"We weren't in barbarian territory, Sire, and it was Alric's hunt. I'm sure he could explain this all much more satisfact..."
"Not in barbarian territory?" The king interrupted harshly. "According to the reports, you and your brother raided established villages!"
"Yes, father. Four of them, in fact: well-established human villages, complete with crops and even roads -- all built on ilthiyan land. They've been there for years. It's an isolated region; no doubt they thought we wouldn't notice."
Angelus said nothing. The pale, sharp-etched features were inscrutable.
You knew, you old bastard! You've known about them all along.
"Even if the barbarians were trespassing, hunts are still illegal," Dare pointed out.
"The law protects only our domestic slaves and herds. It says nothing about wild squatters." Loki smiled hopefully. Actually, his story sounded pretty good, even to himself.
"Do you think some legal technicality will excuse this?" demanded the king.
"No, Sire, but perhaps this will." From his pocket, Loki took out the object he'd found in one of the human villages and set it in front of the king.
Angelus scowled. "A data wand?"
"I found it in one of their hovels."
Dare's eyes narrowed sharply. He seized the wand and switched it on. A male voice, speaking Human, broke the evening quiet: a recitation of human food plants and inventory amounts.
The king's expression changed at once. He stared hard at his second son. "This came from the villages you raided?"
"Yes, Sire."
Abruptly, King Angelus rose, walking around the table and across the flagged stones to a low wall. He stood there in silence, staring out at the ocean so long Loki and Dare exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, he returned to the table. Settling back into his chair, he asked, "What did you think of it?"
"S-Sire?"
"Hunting wild prey." Angelus' mouth curved. "It's been awhile. Did you enjoy it?"
"I did," admitted Loki. "But it's unnecessarily provocative. Besides, I can think of much better uses for humans."
Dare coughed. Angelus sighed. "Yes," he noted dryly. "I've heard."
Loki waited, encouraged. This was going better than he'd hoped.
Angelus slumped low in his chair, deep in thought. Finally, he straightened. A tremor went through him and he raised his hood, pulling it forward.
"We had always anticipated a certain amount of technology leakage in the three main border cities where our two species have regular contact."
"Yes, Sire. I've read the Minutes from the Landing. These villages, however, were nowhere near any of the cities."
There was no reading the king's eyes, lost in the shadow of his hood. Somewhere among the gardens, Mipsie barked and a woman's voice called.
"Tell me, boy," he said finally. "What would be your advice in this?"
"M-me?"
"Yes, you." Angelus leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I know what Alric and Katya would say. What about you?"
Loki floundered, never having expected such a question. "Perhaps someone needs to inform the Gold Sage Council of the situation."
Angelus nodded.
"Maybe they already know," said Adrian.
"I doubt it, General." Loki smiled politely. "The Sages are traditionally cool to any technological advances, no matter how minor. Nor are they likely to be comfortable with anything that reduces their influence and power."
"Ah, yes." Adrian's lip curled. "I forgot, you're our resident authority on Gaians."
"I'm interested in their history and social norms. And ours, as well, actually; but there's less information about theirs, which makes it more interesting." Loki's smile didn't waver. He turned to his father. "Someone should also do a tour of the border towns, Sire, looking for signs of organized technology theft. I've acquired a wild human who should be able to help me with some of the finer points of their society..."
"Oh. Is that what's he for?" The king's eyebrow rose. Turning to Dare, he said, "Adrian, assemble a small party of Riders. I'll write a letter to the Master of the Gold Council, whoever it is these days, and you will bear it to Gaiastar as my official ambassador. Under the terms of the Accord, he is obliged to meet with you outside the city walls. Discretion, however, is imperative."
Dare nodded, shooting a narrow look at Loki.
"And as for you," continued the king, turning his crimson gaze on his youngest son, "I have a task for you, as well. Sadly, it doesn't entail sampling all the human whores along the river. You're going to Vestrax."
Loki's eyes widened. "Y-you want me to go where?"
Dare swore under his breath, straightening in surprise.
"Vestrax. It's in the Reifu Mountains." The king smiled grimly. "Find Gabriel Thorne and bring him to me. The duke and I are long overdue for a talk."
If hands are not engaged in goodly work, the soul becomes restless and susceptible to corruption. Idle days do not bring happiness. The tilling of the soil or an infant's lusty squall will bring us the peace of heart we seek. Be glad in your labors, for as long as you put nothing between you and Gaia, blessed shall be your days until the end of your life.
From Admonishments, Andrew Jessahana, Second Sage
The food was a pleasant surprise. It was tasty and plentiful and, most important, recognizable. Sid had always heard the ilthi fed their slaves on human meat left over from the bloodletting abattoirs, but he knew good beef when he tasted it. If the ilthi's slaves ate so every day, then perhaps staying here awhile wouldn't be so bad.
Afterward, the plate licked clean, he sat at the table, greasy chin in hand, and stared out the window into the dark. It was raining again.
When would Prince Loki return? An image of that unnaturally beautiful face rose in Sid's mind: the ilthiya's tranquil smile, the tall, lean elegance. He dropped his head into his arms, swearing in a thick voice.
The minutes ticked by. Apprehension turned to boredom. Would he ever see the sun again? Would he turn as pasty-pale as the slaves here?
Sid got up and wandered around the big room, opening drawers and cupboards, taking books down from shelves and staring uncomprehending at the printing within. His half-formed hope of finding weapons came to nothing. The ilthiyan lock at the door defied his attempts to pick it. He did find a wealth of fine jewelry and other valuable things. There was clothing, soft and sturdy under his fingers, and cut-crystal bottles of scent.
Picking up a hairbrush, Sid ran his fingertips over the waterstones and pellas adorning the back. To have stolen only this one thing would have brought him enough money to live for years in human Gaia.
Sid's throat tightened. His hadn't exactly been an easy life, but he'd been free! Somehow he had to get back there! He had to!
Looking up, he saw himself in the mirror. Hesitant, he drew the brush through his hair, wincing a little as it caught on a snarl. He needed to bide his time, to be alert to opportunities as they arose. Sooner or later, everyone's attention wandered.
When his hair was as smooth and shiny as Prince Loki's, Sid set down the brush. His eye was caught by a yellow gleam. A gold chain lay amid a cluster of bottles and small jewel cases. It sparkled brightly in the dim light.
Sid looked toward the door, but it remained closed. He lifted the chain around his neck and fastened it. Heavy, cool, it lay against his skin like a thread of sunlight. So entranced was he by the sight, he didn't hear the door open.
"If you like it," came the ilthiya's voice, "you can wear it."
Heart lurching, Sid looked around. The vampire leaned against the door frame, amused.
"I've arranged for lab time," he said. "Come along."
"L-lab time?"
"That's right. I need you to speak ilthi sooner rather than later."
Sid's stomach dropped, but there was nothing for it. Head down, he followed the prince from the room.
The linguistics lab was in the old Tech facilities, in Subterra's upper east caverns. The Technical Guild had moved to the mainland years ago, but they'd left behind the more specialized and valuable equipment at the king's insistence. Guards stood in front of the lift. Beyond this point, humans were forbidden unless accompanied by an ilthiya. Loki thought about the data wand from the human village.
"The house where you hid from me," he said. "Do you know whose it was?"
"The village headman's. His name was Bragg."
The lift came. Loki shoved a reluctant Sid into it. The doors closed on the staring guards.
"Was he involved in black market ilthiyan technology?"
"How should I know? The only time I saw him he sentenced me to a whipping. Your people probably ate him by now."
"We don't eat humans."
Sid grimaced and pressed himself into the corner of the car.
Vestrax, thought Loki, promptly forgetting about his sullen slave. What was his father thinking? More remote than even those unfortunate villages in Ladyjess, the "duchy" was little more than a wilderness of towering mountains and steep valleys, all blanketed by dense forest. It sat at the northernmost frontier of ilthiyan land.
Flight would be out of the question for most of the journey. There was no place safe to land, thanks to the rough and overgrown terrain. The abandoned research center where Thorne was said to live had been all but destroyed in the many earthquakes that plagued the mountains, rendering the only known flyer landing facility useless. Loki would have to travel by land vehicle. It promised to be uncomfortable and slow.
The elevator stopped; the doors slid open. A bored guard sat at a small desk outside. Startled, he jumped up at the sight of the prince and bowed. Loki nodded to him, passing the desk, herding his human along the wide corridor toward Linguistics.
"Here," he said.
Sid gave him an unreadable look and stalked past him into the lab. He stopped dead when the lights flashed on. Eyes wide, mouth ajar, he turned slowly around, taking in the expanse of gleaming steel, of glass and flexite. The ventilation system lurched to life. Its aged fans were noisy, but the stuffiness vanished at once.
"Over here." Loki gestured toward the chair and went to the control console in front of it. The computer came online, lighting up the board.
"W-why?"
"Because I said so."
Sid's slender body tightened; his hands clenched. "How does it work?"
"It's ilthiyan magic. What do you care? Get in before I put you in."
There was an interesting moment while the youth decided whether resistance would be worth the consequences. Reaching the only sensible decision, his shoulders slumped. He sat down, leaning back in the reclining seat, his hands gripping the arms.
Loki activated the restraints. They snapped over Sid's limbs, binding him fast before he realized what had happened.
"Hey!" Panic lifted his voice. "What is this? Why do I have to be tied down?"
"During transfer, your muscles will twitch uncontrollably. It's a side effect of the process."
"D-does it hurt?"
"It isn't supposed to," replied Loki honestly. "But it's been generations since anyone's used this on a human."
Sid looked horrified, face ashen, turning his head to watch as Loki found the leads and returned to his side. "What are those?" he croaked.
"They input the knowledge you need." Loki, holding the human's head still, pressed the leads to his temples and one at the nape of his neck. Sid gasped as the fine, translucent anchors hooked themselves into his skin.
"W-wait!" His voice rose, real fear in it. "This isn't r-right! Please!"
On the computer screen came the list of available programs. Loki found the one he wanted and started it running. From the chair came a fluttering sigh. Looking around, he saw Sid go limp under the straps, eyes closing. The slim body jerked once, then again. Underneath Sid's eyelids, his eyes darted this way and that.
Loki kept an eye on the monitor. His information, sketchy as it was, claimed humans tolerated the translator fairly well: better than ilthi did. It had been an indispensable interrogation tool during their struggle to establish themselves on Gaia.
Sid's lips moved ceaselessly. Curious, Loki bent over to listen, but no sound escaped. He straightened and returned to the console. A warning chime sounded. Onscreen, the last of the numbers scrolled past. Loki removed the leads and withdrew Sid's restraints. Aside from his pallor, the human seemed uninjured. His long eyelashes trembled then lifted. A gaze filled with confusion met Loki's.
"Are you in pain?" asked the prince in ilthiyan. "Can you speak?"
There was silence. Sid's blank stare didn't waver. Then he gave a long, slow blink and sat up.
"Answer me!"
"I'm ... I feel -- strange." Sid lifted an unsteady hand to touch the small red marks at his temple. "My head aches."
He was speaking ilthiyan! Relieved, Loki shut down the rest of the equipment. Headaches were on the list as acceptable, temporary side-effects. The important thing was that the process had worked. Sid was at least intelligible.
"Was it painful?"
Sid shook his head slowly. "I -- don't know." He was still confused. "It is now, Your Highness."
"We'll go back to my room. I'll summon the slave physician. You've done well, Sid. I'm pleased."
The youth looked like he might speak, but he closed his mouth into a tight line instead. Without another word, he followed the prince back to the apartment.
The emptiness engulfs all who dare pierce its heart. We have only faith that we get closer to our ancient home, but now even faith has failed me. I look at numbers that change endlessly, yet the story they tell does not. My dreams have become my only refuge from the remorseless onslaught of truth: home is the end of all things. This is our curse: that we will journey forever, but will find rest only when we turn our back on both the journey and life.
Asvon Jarva, Decline Declaration, 0877ITC/1052UTC
The slave was wretchedly ill. Within twenty-four hours of the imprinting, Sid was feverish and out of his head, babbling in human, ilthiyan and bizarre combinations of the two. After a brief examination, the physician pronounced him to be suffering from brain fever and spirited him off to be nursed back to health.
In the meantime, Loki had plenty to occupy him. The Reifu Mountains were notorious for a number of things. They contained deposits of anamoline, for one thing. While the ore had its most dramatic effects on anything powered by eskerion energy, it could also distort magnetic fields at close range, another reason flyers would be unusable. In fact, most modern land vehicles were powered by magnetism. Very few ilthiyan vehicles used solar engines anymore. There were none at all on Neminora. He hunted down Dare and complained.
"There are plenty at the frontier outpost." Dare, seated behind his cluttered desk and occupied with his own preparations for Gaiastar, looked up impatiently. "They have a crawler and a couple dozen skips in case they need to go into the anomaline areas."
"Are you sure a flyer won't work?" Loki thought of the one crawler he'd ever seen, low-slung and heavy. Its cab, visible through a scratched, transparent dome, had looked depressingly small.
"Yes." Dare's eyes took on a mocking spark. "I could arrange for horses, if you prefer."
"That's not funny, Adrian. Why the hell am I doing this, anyway?"
"Because it's dangerous," replied Dare. "Why should the king risk his heirs on such a trip?"
Loki kept his smile, but it wasn't easy. "Good point," he acknowledged lightly. "And now that you've reminded me of my redundancy, please answer my question. Even if the trip is dangerous, why not simply send a unit of soldiers to collect the duke?"
"Perhaps you feel you are unequal to the task?" Dare's smile was as insincere as Loki's.
Loki, planting his hands on the desk, leaned over it. "Would you like to find out?"
"I should hate to insult His Majesty by shaming his son. Perhaps another time."
"So unsure of your skills?" Loki purred. "I should think you would want to avenge the last time we met."
Dare's expression darkened. "You were lucky," he snapped. "And you cheated."
It was too bad Adrian hadn't taken him up on his offer, Loki decided after their meeting. The mood he was in would have been alleviated very nicely by some fast, vicious swordplay. Instead, he gave Fema a barrage of orders and, borrowing one of the family's smaller flyers, headed east to Armistice.
Armistice was one of Gaia's newer, larger cities, sprawling along the eastern banks of the Blackmere River. The river was the official border between ilthiyan and human lands. Although Armistice was populated predominately by humans, it was not recognized by the Gaian Gold Council. The Gaians' supreme governmental body considered it steeped in sin and heresy. Nevertheless, since the end of the war, Armistice had grown steadily, a major trading center between human farmers and the ilthi seeking food for their ever-increasing population of human slaves and cattle.
Armistice also offered attractions. It was a pleasure city, with entire neighborhoods given over to brothels, gaming houses, and taverns. Human and ilthi alike frequented these places, usually under the cover of darkness: ilthi, because they were a nocturnal species, and humans, to avoid the censure of their neighbors and their rulers.
One such establishment, the Iris Garden, was a favorite of Loki's. The magnificent mansion belonged to Fema's brother and was one of Armistice's most luxurious brothels. He had his own room there, maintained at considerable expense, and the pick of Jared's stable of human slaves.
Jared himself met Loki in the Garden's elegant foyer.
"Lord v'Soix!" he exclaimed, bowing. "A pleasant surprise, indeed!"
Loki smiled. v'Soix was his alias outside of Neminora. He treasured his anonymity, especially on territory that was, at least nominally, human. Jared would have preferred the bragging rights of having a known royal among his clients, but the brothel-keeper was first and foremost a businessman.
"And what is your pleasure tonight, my lord? I have some recent acquisitions, quite lovely."
"By all means, send them up."
Jared escorted the prince up the grand staircase and down a corridor to the private suites. Loki knew other ilthiyan lords shared this wing of the brothel with him, but thanks to Jared's discretion, he'd rarely seen his neighbors.
His suite was larger and more luxurious than his room in Subterra, comprised of three spacious chambers: a parlor, a bedchamber and a bathroom. A balcony off the parlor overlooked the mansion's formal gardens and the river beyond. The parlor had more the look of a library, stocked as it was with printed books. Bringing ilthiyan technology across the river was not encouraged. Minor tech, like electric lights and brecoal, had become commonplace, but a reader was pushing it. Nevertheless, Loki had developed a certain fondness for printed books. There was something about holding it in his hand and slowly turning the pages he found strangely comforting.
Loki perused the shelves, looking for something he hadn't finished reading. There was only one book, a slender volume of collected essays by some of the Gaians' early sages. The translation was adequate and he found the quaint homilies amusing. He took it down and went to his favorite seat near the tall windows. Before he could find his place among the pages, however, there was a soft knock on the door.
One of the Garden's trainers stood outside, several scantily clad human males behind him. The trainer, another human, bowed low and ordered his group inside. The young men glided in, all sensuous grace, to abase themselves before Loki.
The sight of the slim, naked backs and rounded buttocks made Loki forget about his book at once. He nodded to the trainer, who said, "Up and display yourselves!"
At once, the boys rose, assuming provocative positions in front of him. Loki's gaze traveled over them in pleasure, noting the smooth skin, the firm muscles and beautiful faces. They all wore the house uniform of fine-linked gold chains and a tiny triangle of gleaming, stretch fabric barely covering their genitals. All were generously endowed and a testament to Jared's impeccable taste.
Loki was drawn to the youth with dark hair. In the room's lights, strands of it gleamed dark red, reminding him of Sid. He crooked a finger and the slave quickly removed the thong, exposing himself to the prince.
"You," said Loki.
After the others had been herded from the room, Loki rose and stood still while the boy reverently removed the prince's clothing, folding each piece neatly and laying it aside. He didn't speak; it was common knowledge that Lord v'Soix preferred his whores to remain silent. His fingers did the speaking for him, brushing Loki's skin frequently, caressing him as, one after the other, the prince's garments were whisked away.
Dropping to his knees, the slave began to cover Loki's bare feet with kisses, soft brushes of his lips, his tongue teasing here and there as he slowly made his way up Loki's long legs. Coming at last to Loki's sex, he spent long, exquisite minutes there, sucking and stroking, his fingers gently swirling around Loki's testicles until the ilthiya groaned aloud. Seizing the youth's hair, Loki held him still, plundering his mouth ruthlessly, enjoying the feel of his cock sliding along the roof of the slave's mouth and pushing against the back of his throat. Just as orgasm threatened, Loki pulled back, allowing the slave a chance to catch his breath. Then, reaching down, he hauled the human to his feet.
He threw the slave face down onto the bed, watching as the youth quickly pulled his knees up under him, offering his backside. Loki pulled apart the rounded buttocks and saw his small, glistening anus, ready for Loki's cock.
Loki took his time, pushing slowly into the narrow orifice, the slave's moans a sensuous accompaniment to the sensations the penetration brought. When Loki was buried to his hilt, he withdrew and, this time, drove hard and fast into the unresisting youth. Again and again, he slammed into the Man, caught in the iliyan storm of lust that made control all but impossible. The slave muffled his cries in the bed, fists white-knuckled in the bunched up blanket as he was rocked by Loki's violent thrusts.
Loki came in a blaze of white light and ecstasy, falling forward and pinning the man to the bed beneath him. For a long time, he simply lay, letting the warm, post-coital glow envelope him. Then he rolled over, pulling out abruptly and triggering another muffled cry from the slave.
The youth's face was wet with tears. Still, he managed a smile and a thank you before limping away to fetch a warm, wet cloth. His hands shook when he cleaned Loki off. The generous tip Loki gave him, however, brought a real smile to his face and more thanks. At Loki's languid gesture, the youth slipped out of the room leaving Loki pleasantly sated.
Yes, indeed. Jared knew how to produce fine slaves. Maybe he would bring Sid by for some training. Loki tried to imagine that scapegrace adorned in the Garden's jewels and silky fabrics, gracefully submitting to his whims. Alas, even his imagination was not up to that. Chuckling, he put on a dressing gown, picked up his book, and retired to the window-seat to read.
With his father's orders hanging over his head, Loki returned to Neminora the next day. He was greeted with the news that his brother had returned. Word of Loki's own arrival must have traveled quickly, for by the time he reached his apartments, Alric was already there, cooling his heels in Loki's favorite chair, entertaining Fema with tales of the hunt.
"Loki!" Alric jumped to his feet, smiling broadly. "What's this I hear about you being dragged before Father?"
"You son of a bitch," Loki greeted his brother. "It was your hunt."
"I'll bet you talked him around." Alric was a tall man, muscular and strong-featured.
Ordinarily, he looked like a king, powerful and handsome. At the moment, however, he resembled nothing more than a small, guilty boy. "Is he very angry?"
"Not any more."
Alric brightened. "Was he surprised to find out the humans had encroached so far into our land?"
"Not particularly. I suspect you're not off the hook yet, Alric." Loki thought about the data wand. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Alric about it, but instead: "For some reason, the situation has put it into his head to talk to the Duke of Vestrax, of all people. He's sending me to fetch him."
"Who?"
"Gabriel Thorne. Remember him?"
"Never met him."
"That's because he was exiled before we were born."
"You're the historian," said Alric with the shrug. "What did he do?"
"Vied with father for the throne."
"Oh. Still -- a duke..." Alric frowned. "Why is he sending you?"
"Because Vestrax is considered the frontier and dangerous, Your Royal Heirness."
"Good point." Alric had already lost interest. "So father's not angry with me?
"I didn't say that."
"But if he knows it was our land..."
"We're talking about Father. Since when has the king ever been obligated to be reasonable."
"That's why I have you to run interference for me, dear brother."
"Don't take me so lightly," Loki warned. "There is another heir."
His brother chuckled. "Don't be an idiot. If Katya were queen, your trips to the border towns would become a thing of the past. You know what she would do to the wild humans."
"While your plans are so much more benevolent," murmured Loki.
"Eh? Of course, they are! You simply keep a good census and cull the wild stock at regular intervals. Bring back the big hunts, but regulate them. Complete eradication of all the wild humans is risky. What if our domestic stock is hit by some sort of disease? What if inbreeding eventually results in plummeting birth rates?"
"You don't need to convince me," Loki replied. "I'm all in favor of conservation, however it's achieved."
"Too bad about the mission to Vestrax, though," added Alric, looking anything but sympathetic. "I owe you one, little brother."
"Delighted to be of service." Loki considered planting a good one right on his brother's noble nose. "Now, Alric, if you don't mind, I have things to do."
Alric took the hint and, grinning, started toward the door. Hand on the knob, he paused and turned back. "Oh, yes. I heard about the wild one you brought back. I'm surprised Katya didn't insist he be taken to the abattoirs on the spot."
It wasn't a subject Loki wanted to discuss. He made a rude hand-gesture, but Alric was already out the door, laughing, and away.
There was a long, confused period of pain and misery. It felt as if someone was inside Sid's head with a pick-axe, trying to get out. Sometimes a woman stood beside him, holding a cool, sweet drink to his lips. Other times Sid was caught in nightmares: breathless, heart-pounding chases through dreamscapes of dark forests and endless stone corridors, always one step ahead of unspeakable horror.
He woke at last to find the pain was gone. His bed was hard and narrow, pushed up against an unplastered wall. The stone exuded a deep chill. His uniform was gone; beneath the thin blanket, he was stark naked. It wasn't until he struggled to sit up, however, that he realized his ankle was chained to the sturdy metal bed-frame.
Memories crept back. There had been a place unlike any he'd ever seen before. A chair. The prince had forced him to sit in it and tied him down, fixing bits of wire to Sid's head. Sid remembered voices whispering to him, odd thoughts pushing his own out of the way, images of things that were surely not of Gaia.
His throat tightened; his stomach clenched as the realization crept in. He spoke ilthiyan. The vampire prince had worked the darkest of ilthiyan magic and changed him forever.
Corrupt.
Taking a deep, shivering breath, Sid tried not to think about it.
How long had he been here? Even as he wondered, the door at one end of the room opened. He glimpsed a small room on the other side, crowded with a desk and cabinets. A stout, middle-aged woman hurried into the ward. She wore a white jacket over her house uniform and clutched a notebook in one arm.
"Sitting up, are we?" she noted, stopping beside his bed. "You must be feeling better!"
He nodded warily.
"Good! His Highness will be happy to hear it. Is there any pain at all?"
Sid shook his head. "What happened to me? What did they do?"
"You were in the assimilation unit. It's an amazing machine that teaches you how to speak other languages. The ilthi are so clever. You speak beautifully now."
"I'd rather speak human," he told her in that language. "Only slaves speak the vampires' tongue."
But she just looked bewildered and a little disapproving. "You would do better to forget your barbarian ways," she advised. "People will be more likely to overlook your background if you do, especially with your new lovely accent." Looking down at his wrist, she added, "If His Highness permits, I can remove that tattoo, as well."
Sid pulled his arm against his chest and glared. "Stupid cow," he snarled in human.
She looked vaguely alarmed, taking a step back. "Now, now. Please don't cause any trouble, young man. Master Fema will be very angry."
Fema. Sid suddenly remembered arriving back at the prince's apartments, of being so deathly ill that he'd thrown up at Prince Loki's elegant feet. Fema had been enraged, dragging him through the halls and down to the slave levels, pausing now and then to hit him or throw him to the ground for a good kick or two. Bastard. Unconsciously, Sid's fingers crept to his still-tender ribs.
At the end of the room, the other door opened and steward himself appeared. Every muscle in Sid's body tensed. The woman, on the other hand, looked vastly relieved.
"Good. He's awake," said Fema. "Is he healthy?"
"His vitals are excellent, Master Fema, but he's still a little weak."
"Unimportant. His Highness is leaving within the hour and intends for the slave to be with him. Where's the key to his chains?"
Leave? Sid forced his wandering wits to focus. "Where are we going, sir?"
The ilthiya unlocked the shackle. "You don't need to know. Now get up and come along."
Sid slid from the bed. Immediately his knees gave way. He tried to drag himself up, but Fema, with a muttered curse, grabbed him and threw him over a broad shoulder. When Sid objected, he slapped the young human hard on his defenseless backside.
Buttocks stinging, head swimming, Sid endured the mortifying trip through the halls. He kept his eyes tightly closed, but could not help hearing muffled laughter in their wake. By the time they reached the prince's quarters, he was trembling with fury and humiliation.
Fema tossed him carelessly onto the prince's bed, then turned away to address someone else in the room. Dizzy, Sid sat up, pushing tangled hair out of his eyes.
"...up in the front. It contains articles His Highness may need at any time."
Two burly slaves stood beside an enormous pile of luggage. At Fema's word, they picked up several pieces and left the room. No sooner had they gone than the prince arrived.
"Good evening, Highness," Fema greeted him, bowing low. "The baggage is being loaded into the transport as we speak. Unfortunately, he is not yet fully recovered." This was accompanied by a disgusted glance at Sid.
"Can't be helped," decided the prince without looking in the human's direction. "I've delayed as long as I can for his sake. As it is, we'll be lucky to make the outpost by sunrise."
"Why take him at all, Highness? You have no shortage of sturdy slaves who could serve you as well or better."
"They're all domestic, my dear Fema. What do they know of barbarian habits? Don't forget, Vestrax is rumored to be infested with them. I expect him to be of great assistance."
Fema obviously didn't share the prince's optimism. He snorted.
"I trust you are right, Your Highness, but I'd still keep your stinger close. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I shall go make certain the transport is being properly packed."
When Fema had gone, the ilthiya smiled at Sid, but it was a preoccupied smile. "I'm sorry to rouse you from your sickbed, Sid, but we are both on the king's business. You are better?"
Sid nodded, more interested in the implications of the luggage. "Where are we going?"
"Armistice," replied the prince after the barest hesitation. "Neminora bores me."
Armistice! That was human territory! It was a border town, true, and notorious, but it was human. Human locks Sid could pick. He struggled to keep his excitement from showing.
The prince stooped and picked something up from a chair: a stack of neatly folded garments. He brought them to the bed and tossed them down. Leaning forward, he reached for Sid, who managed not to flinch away, and ruffled his hair with careless fingers.
"Not that you don't look delicious just like you are, my pet, but I think these clothes will be more discreet. Put them on."
Heat flashed through Sid, unwelcome and irresistible. Scowling, he snatched the garments and slid across the bed to get off on the other side. With it between them, he dressed quickly, inwardly squirming under the ilthiya's appreciative observation.
Fortunately, the slaves returned for more luggage, Fema with them, and Prince Loki's attention was diverted. The steward bowed. He handed the prince a black case, darting a bright, malicious glance at Sid as he did so.
Prince Loki grimaced and blew on the case, dislodging a small cloud of dust. "Are you sure this works?" he asked, looking doubtful. "I can't afford any further delay."
"It was tested on one of the other slaves early this morning, Highness. There have been no ill effects all day."
The prince seemed encouraged by that. He carried the box to the table by the window. "Sid, come here."
Sid's heart plummeted. Palms clammy, he told himself fiercely to do what he was told, but he couldn't get his feet to move. He watched the prince open the case and take out an evil-looking thing, all bright steel and glass. It was not much larger than his hand, but the sight of it made his stomach knot.
"Sid?"
Fema started toward him. Somehow, Sid got himself to move, one leaden step after another. Fema grabbed him anyway and dragged him to the table.
From the case, the prince removed a rounded glass vial. He knocked it lightly, carelessly against the edge of the table. Sid watched, horrified, as pale blue liquid appeared inside the vial. The prince shoved the vial onto the tapered end of the first object.
"It's called an injector. Pull up your shirt and turn around."
"W-why? That's not -- you're not going to put that stuff into me, too, are you?"
Corrupt. Corrupt. Corrupt.
Sid tried to back away. He didn't get far. Fema growled and, fingers like vises, whipped Sid around, yanking his arms over his head. "Highness?"
Shirt and jacket were pulled up. Caught between the two taller, more powerful forms, there was nothing Sid could do but gasp when cold metal pressed into the small of his back. Something bright and icy stung his skin.
"Done!" announced the prince and Sid was abruptly released. The ilthiya handed the injector to Fema and, to Sid's shock, pulled up his own shirt. Fema pressed the end against Loki's bare back.
"It's a tracer drug," continued the prince with a little wince. He tucked his shirt back in. "It allows Neminora to find us in an emergency."
Sid was aghast. He stared down at his hands, but they didn't look any different. He didn't feel any different.
Prince Loki's eyes gleamed. "That's right," he said. "You'll light up like a sun on a flyer's scanning equipment."
All Sid's plans crashed to rubble around him. "How... How long does it last?"
The prince just laughed.
There was in the west a great light, so bright, the sun was lessened its glow. The earth shook again and again, and the people who waited upon the Holy Mont prayed and sang, trusting their lives to Gaia. Upon the morning of the fourth day, the light faded. The tumbled earth was quiet again. Gaia was cleansed.
from A History of Gaia, Volume 1, Part 1
The first part of the journey was painless enough: a high-altitude flight across human territory to the edge of the mountain wilderness. Under the rules of the Accord, the ilthi were required to go around human airspace rather than through it, but no one paid much attention to that. The flights were too high to be seen with the human eye or even the crude, glass-lens magnifiers Gaian dogma allowed.
Sid had recovered some of his usual spirit. He sat glued to the window, staring out. They were far above the atmosphere and his first sight of the planet revolving slowly beneath them held him speechless for ten whole minutes.
But the transport didn't always face the planet. For the latter half of the journey, their view was toward space and the tiny, cold stars.
"Is it true that Hell is out there?" asked Sid.
Loki, trying to read, looked up and out into the emptiness. He was tempted for a moment to tell the boy the truth, but the truth in human hands was dangerous. Wasn't he being sent out into the middle of nowhere for that very reason?
"Yes," he said. It was only half a lie, after all.
Sid looked around. "I've heard even the ilthi have devils. Irthi they're called. Is it true?"
"All cultures have folklore, including ours."
"You don't believe in them?"
"Why should I? Nobody has actually seen one of these dreadful creatures. The only mention in them is in our oldest Logs -- and most ilthiyan scholars aren't sure of their accuracy."
"The Sages pray for them to come and drive you from Gaia." Defiance bled into Sid's voice.
"That's rather short-sighted. What if the irthi hate humans, too?"
"You couldn't destroy us. Neither would they!"
"We didn't 'destroy' you because you humans are our food source," Loki reminded him, adding, "although things are different now."
"What do you mean?"
"We have domestic herds. Technically, you wild humans are unnecessary."
"Does that mean you're going to war against us again?"
"I hope not," murmured Loki.
The transport banked sharply and began its descent. Seen through Gaia's atmosphere again, the stars were transformed, becoming enormous, bright, and sparkling. Against their backdrop were silhouetted the rugged, soaring peaks of the Reifu Mountains.
Sid frowned. He looked at Loki. "I don't see the river."
"River?"
"Armistice." Unease crept into the human's voice. "It's on the river."
"That's because we aren't going there. I lied. Our real destination is somewhere quite different, I'm afraid, and a secret. I hope you're not too disappointed."
Inevitable as the sunset, Sid took offense. Loki wondered idly if the Man realized how pretty he was: the full lips drawn into an almost-pout, his bright gaze revealing every thought passing through that quick mind.
Tonight, I will show you pleasure, little thief. I will see you aroused by something other than anger.
"If we're not going to Armistice, where are we going?"
"When it's time for you to know, slave, I'll tell you."
Another angry spark, then a quick shrug and Sid turned away again, pretending interest in the night-blanketed hills below.
"You are too soft on him!" Fema's words echoed in Loki's head. "You let him speak to you like an equal. And that business with the flyer! A light whipping?"
"I am a tolerant man," agreed Loki. "Perhaps too much so. Just see how I listen so meekly to a lecture from my steward!"
The transport landed at the ilthiyan border outpost. Out here, at the very edge of human territory, settlements were few and far between. The base commander came personally to transport Loki to the austere guest quarters, apologizing profusely for its size and dauntingly few amenities.
Loki took in the cramped suite: a tiny bedroom with a low, narrow bed and three-drawer dresser and an equally small sitting room with a desk, straight-backed chair, and couch. Walls of cracked and patched flexite had been painted grey. They were enlivened only with a framed listing of the base regulations.
"We don't get many visitors out here, Your Highness, let alone of your rank. I apologize for such poor offerings."
"Not at all," replied Loki manfully. "Are the arrangements complete for the crawler?"
The captain confirmed that they were. It would be at Loki's disposal whenever His Highness so commanded.
"Excellent. Please bring some supper for me and my slave." Loki hesitated. "I don't suppose you could find a bottle of wine around anywhere? Perhaps human-made?"
The captain's sober gaze lightened. "It's possible, Your Highness."
They were soon alone. Loki's smile vanished as he looked around. Oh well, it was only for one day.
Sid stood beside the two bags Loki had wanted brought in with them. The quick, curious gaze took everything in, but managed to avoid meeting his. Still pale, there were shadows under his eyes and the slight figure drooped.
"Get undressed and into the shower," Loki said. "It'll be an early evening for both of us. Tomorrow may be a bit ... strenuous."
The youth turned his back on Loki, getting out of his clothes as fast as possible. He disappeared into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door. After a moment, Loki heard the water running.
Going into the bedroom, the prince sat down on the edge of the bed. Its mattress barely yielded to his weight. The windows had good light-seals, however, and the ventilation was decent.
For a moment, weariness touched him and he was tempted to lie down and, regardless of the bed's discomfort, go right to sleep.
A knock wrenched Loki back to alertness. A soldier with a covered cart stood outside in the corridor. On it was a full plate of fiber and protein and all the other complex nutrients Sid's species required. A large, covered mug of his own sustenance was provided. And there was a bottle of the local human's wine! Loki eyed it with pleasure. If there was ever anything that would draw human and ilthi together, it would be the human's version of the intoxicating beverage.
Loki drank his own dinner, finishing it before Sid emerged from the shower. Wrapped in an ilthiyan-sized towel, the Man stopped, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food.
"Go ahead and eat," invited Loki. "I've already finished and I need a shower, too."
A quick duck of the wet head and Sid dove into the food. Loki left him to it.
When the tedium of the flight had been washed away, Loki came out to find Sid sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning his head against the arm, yawning. From the looks of it, he had already helped himself to the wine. His eyes widened at Loki's nudity. At once, he turned red and looked away, but not before his gaze had dropped to Loki's belly and widened further.
"Pour me a glass of wine," Loki ordered, walking over the couch and sitting down.
With an unsteady hand, Sid obeyed, handing it up without lifting his eyes from the carpet.
"I didn't know ilthi could drink wine," he said.
"It's the simple sugars. Our digestive systems can tolerate them." He took a sip, then smiled. "Still wearing the necklace, I see."
Sid straightened, his hand going to the sparkling chain. "You said I could!"
"It looks good on you. Perhaps you should wear jewels in your ears, as well."
The human flushed. He opened his mouth, but instead of the fiery retort, he said only, "If you please," and returned his gaze to the floor.
"Have some more wine."
"No, thanks, Your Highness." Sid's face remained down-turned, but his hands clenched.
"Don't make me repeat myself, boy." Loki took a sip, his own eyes going to slits. "My patience is not without its limits."
"If you're going to rape me, why bother getting me drunk?" The human's voice was bitter. "Besides, there isn't enough wine here to make me like it."
From the looks of the bottle, he'd already had a couple glasses. Loki decided to let it go. "Stand up," he said instead.
How Sid wanted to refuse! Loki could see it so clearly in the clenching of his jaw and the wild look that touched those fine, regular features. He dared not disobey, however, and got to his feet, fighting to conceal the tremor of his hands by pressing them against his thighs. Tilting his chin defiantly, he returned Loki's gaze.
Loki twitched away the towel. Sid flinched. His breath quickened.
"Go. Get into bed."
Wordlessly, the human obeyed. He was visibly trembling now. Loki followed him into the bedroom and watched him climb onto the low bed. When he faltered, Loki pushed him gently onto his back. Sid closed his eyes, sealing his lips tight.
Loki bound his wrists using luggage straps, tying them fast to the head of the bed's heavy frame. Then he left Sid and returned to the sitting room. Digging through one of his bags, he found his tablet. Setting it on the desk, he opened it and watched the screen blink to life.
He keyed in a map of the area, but all he got was one dated from just after the war. The roads to the old research complex -- three of them -- were marked clearly, but anything could have happened in the past hundred years. As far as Loki knew, all three roads could be buried under rock slides by now.
A request for a more recent map resulted only in unmarked aerial images of the mountains, standard satellite views used mainly for weather monitoring. He saw no evidence of the research complex.
And what of its lone ilthiyan inhabitant? What of the exiled Thorne? Was he even still living? Had he gone into Decline? The king had not been forthcoming with many details. Loki suspected it was because his father simply didn't know. Later, Dare had born out his suspicions.
"We lost direct contact with Vestrax long ago," he'd told Loki. "We've been keeping it under aerial surveillance only. I have no idea what you'll find."
Loki finally keyed in coordinates for all three of the original roads and hoped for the best. He looked toward the bedroom. Not a sound came from it. Closing the tablet, he downed his wine in a single swallow and went to see if his slave had calmed down.
Sid dreamed. The sunlight was warm on his face and the still, autumn air filled with the scent of recently harvested grain. He and Kip walked along the wooded lane, tired and dusty from the day's labor.
A breeze stirred the turning leaves overhead. Kip stopped, facing him. He said something, but Sid couldn't quite make out the words. Then he leaned forward and kissed Sid full on the lips. Sid's body leapt in response. He opened his mouth eagerly, moaning as Kip thrust his tongue deep inside.
Beautiful...
Kip pressed him down -- down to the soft, warm grass by the edge of the road. Dazed with desire, Sid saw him through half-closed eyes, sunlight falling through the leaves above and setting him aglow. Kip's eyes were bright with passion. His long, shining hair brushed Sid's naked chest as he slid over him, weight pressing Sid into the earth.
Long hair...
"NO!" Sid, awake now, twisted frantically out from under the ilthiya. The leather straps held fast, digging sharply into his wrists as he tried vainly to pull free. After a moment, realizing the futility of it, he stopped struggling. Defeated, he closed his eyes again.
Kip was gone. Gone forever. There was no more sunlight. No more sweet, fumbling kisses in the dark. He was clanless and a thief and such gifts were not for him.
"There's no need for panic," said the ilthiya. "I have no intention of being so rough tonight. Quite the contrary."
It was hopeless. The trembling inside him grew.
Prince Loki sat up. Grey eyes glowing, he looked down at Sid. "Be still," he ordered softly.
Mouth dry, throat tight, Sid obeyed. He could not help flinching, however, when the vampire set a long, cool hand on his belly.
"It's all right," he was told. "Let your body speak."
But the memory of his first night in Neminora was vivid, etched deep with terror and pain. Sid's heart beat so hard and loudly, he was sure Prince Loki must hear it.
The prince, perhaps sensing his fear, did nothing at first, but simply sat beside him, one long leg bent at the knee, relaxed. Sid's pulse slowly eased, only to leap again when the vampire's hand moved toward his genitals.
"Open your legs."
It was hard to expose himself so thoroughly, to wait for whatever his master would do. Sid closed his eyes tightly, catching his breath when Prince Loki's fingers closed gently around his sex. The sensation from his dream, of silken hair sweeping across his chest brought his inner trembling out. Something warm and wet scraped across his nipple. He made a sound then, eyes flying open.
"Shhh," said the prince and the hand imprisoning Sid's genitals tightened gently: a warning. His face was very close to Sid's. Those silver-grey eyes were filled with subtle flashes of color. Then, lowering his head, the ilthiyath found Sid's nipple again. There was sharp, sudden pain.
Prince Loki drew away. Sid saw his nipple, swollen and bleeding. Loki bent his head once more, obscuring Sid's view, but he could feel the vampire's mouth on the pierced flesh, worrying at it, suckling. In spite of himself, heat flashed through Sid's body; his penis stirred against the hard fingers caging it. A new fear insinuated itself through the small shocks of pain-pleasure.
"No," he gasped, "Don't! I don't want... You can't..."
Of course he was not heeded. Instead, his words were swallowed by the ilthiyath's kiss, deep and demanding.
"You are mine," replied the prince, low and hoarse. "I will use you as I please." His lips moved against the corner of Sid's mouth, drinking in the youth's frightened breaths. "Look at your body."
The ilthiya released Sid's genitals, Sid's cock leapt hard and thick to quiver against his belly. His tiny nipples stood wantonly at attention, the abused one throbbing unbearably. The hot flood of shame at the sight seemed only to increase the pressure in his gut.
"Damn you!" he gasped. "I'll kill you, you son of a...ahhhhh!"
His other nipple suffered the fate of the first. Sid found it harder and harder to think straight. Each flick of the tongue, each tug at the puffy, tender flesh served only to undo him all the more. He sobbed aloud when the prince at last abandoned them, but his respite was only momentary. Strong hands clasped his thighs, forcing them up and apart.
What had come before was nothing compared to this. The demon's mouth was on his most private places, licking, sucking, finding spots that made him writhe and sob. He gripped the leather straps with convulsive strength, lost in a sea of sensation, battered by the waves of pleasure that crashed against his soul. When the prince turned him over and slid a long, slick finger into his anus, Sid didn't even notice. It was only one more explosion of his senses in a conflagration of them.
He knew when Prince Loki took him, however. At that moment of tearing pain and unbearable fullness, he was wrenched back to Neminora's bedroom and the terror that had consumed him. Sid screamed, body going rigid, eyes flying open.
The ilthiya reached around him, gripping his cock, squeezing and pulling. He bent forward, covering Sid's body with his own.
"Don't fight me," he whispered into the shaking human's ear. "Relax."
The hand on Sid's cock, the slow, powerful movements of the ilthiya's sex inside him wrought havoc with Sid's reason. He gulped, trying to speak, but a long, hard thrust drove the breath from him and touched something deep in his body. Another thrust, and he moaned, feeling his eyes rolling up in his head.
The pressure in his gut was all-consuming. A tiny part of him curled in shame, hearing the words tumbling from his lips, feeling his body leap to meet the ilthiya's pounding. There was a muffled curse from the prince then the ilthiya plunged into him in a final, savage thrust. Sid cried out, head flinging back. White light, white heat: he was lost in it.
Reality crept back. He lay face down in the bed, legs splayed wide, the vampire's weight pushing him into the mattress. After a moment or two, the prince moved slightly, pulling away. The sensation made Sid whimper, spilling fresh tears down his cheeks. Too weak to move, he could do nothing when Prince Loki rolled him onto his back. His nipples hurt.
"Amazing," said the vampire breathlessly. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and his dark hair was damp. He ran his fingertips lightly over Sid's parted lips. "I chose well."
Sid hadn't the strength to reply. He just closed his eyes. The bed moved; Prince Loki had left it. Sid drifted in a tranquil place, a place where his body felt lighter than air. Soft footsteps and the prince was back. A warm, wet cloth on Sid's belly made him shiver. He heard laughter. Something cool and slick quelled the heat of his battered nipples.
"Just one thing," went on the prince, voice coming from far away, amused. "Who is Kip?"
Evening found the human listless and pale. He refused to meet Loki's eyes, speaking only when spoken to, eating his breakfast with his head down and his shoulders hunched, then carrying the bags out to the crawler.
It was a fine night, the moon nearing full and the stars brilliant. The base commander saw Loki off.
"It's wild country out there," he warned. "Be careful in those hills."
"I'm sure your escort will be more than adequate."
Three soldiers waited nearby on solar-powered skips, armed to the teeth. They wore the uniform of the regular guard, but there was nothing regular about them: Ghost Riders. Dare was taking no chances. How touching. Loki pushed the ignition and the crawler lurched forward.
The sight of the skips prodded Sid from his lethargy. He sat next to Loki in the crawler, staring through the window as the soldiers zipped and zagged alongside them, occasionally pausing to hover above the sea of high grass before darting away again.
"Can humans ride those?" he asked.
He hadn't bothered to tie back his hair tonight. Even in the poor light of the cab, it sparked copper and gold. Loki imagined that silky mop on his pillow back on Neminora and sighed, returning his attention to the way ahead.. "Probably, but it's forbidden."
"Why?"
"It's in the Accord. Your sages insisted upon it: something about sparing souls."
"I think you're just afraid we'll use your machines against you."
Of course, when the pact had been written, that had been precisely the reason for it. Most of the wild Gaians might spurn the "demons" and their machines, but there were exceptions. And it wouldn't take many of those to tilt the balance of power.
"Who would do such a thing, except outlaws like you?" Loki asked. "Stay away from the skips, slave. You're lucky you weren't flayed alive for that trick with the flyer."
"Yes, Highness," replied Sid, so meekly that Loki gave him a sharp look.
"What do the sages have to say about your people dabbling in ilthiyan technology?"
"How should I know?"
"Don't you believe in Jessahana? Don't you revere your Sages?"
The fine mouth tightened. Sid shrugged, his hand moving to the faded tattoo on his wrist, an unconscious gesture Loki had noticed before. "I believe in Gaia and Jessahana," he said finally. "The Sages...they're just men. Some are better than others."
"You believe in Jessahana, eh? You think machines are evil? Yet your own ancestors embraced technology much like ours, if your historians are correct."
"Yes, and Gaia was angry and destroyed them. Gaia will destroy the ilthi, too."
"Really?" Loki lifted an eyebrow. "And just when will she do this? We've been here awhile, you know."
Sid scowled. "When the time comes..."
"Maybe..." Loki warmed to his theme, "we are the true children of Gaia."
"That's not true! You came here from the Void! Humans are Gaian. Who knows what you are?"
"We are ilthi." Loki smiled into the blazing eyes. "Your lords and masters."
Sid turned away and stared blindly through the crawler's window. His face in the reflection was still and hard.
"Not forever," he whispered. "Not forever, vampire."
Loki just laughed. Reaching over, he seized Sid and dragged the youth across the space between their seats to kiss him. Sid struggled, but was helpless against Loki's strength. Taking his fill, the prince flung the human to the floor at his feet. Sid made a sound, rubbing at his bruised mouth and tried to get back into his seat, only to have Loki shove him back.
"Impertinent slave," Loki said softly. "Stay there and think about your place in my world."
Sid's temper was a fiery one, but he was learning. He edged as far from Loki as the cramped space would allow, hugging his knees to his chest. There he sat, head down, slim figure tense, and was silent for a long time.
Soon the grasslands gave way to foothills. Trees appeared, growing steadily denser the higher the land rose. From information on one of Loki's older maps, one of the three old roads was nearby, a supply route built by the ilthi during the war. Loki sent one of the skips in that direction. The man returned quickly to say it was still there.
Loki finally relented and allowed Sid back into his seat. The human sat up when their headlights illuminated the broad strip of cracked and broken pavement.
"A demon road!" he exclaimed. "In our lands, they were all destroyed."
"Yes," muttered Loki. "What a waste."
Their good fortune lasted another few hours before the way was cut off by the remains of an old avalanche. The crawler and its escort were forced to go around a hill of boulders and gravel, then double back. Loki cast an uneasy glance at the chronometer. It would be dawn soon. He increased the crawler's speed and hoped he wouldn't exhaust the batteries.
The big vehicle bumped and jolted back to the road. Within a few minutes, they came to another rockfall, this one very large. As they started around it, they encountered a deep chasm. Loki swore extravagantly. Sid shot a startled look at him.
"Sir? This area reads as highly unstable." The skip group commander's voice came in over the link. Loki heard the unease in it.
"I see it." Loki replied. "It looks like we won't get to Vestrax tonight, after all. There should be an old monitoring station a few miles to the south. We'll hole up there for the day."
The station was indeed found and, fortunately, was still intact: a low, rounded structure, overgrown with creepers and half-hidden by thicket. Chaining Sid to the crawler frame, Loki left the human and, together with his guards, cleared away the entrance. Setting his signet ring against the lock, Loki was relieved to see it glow to life. The door slid open.
Most remote monitoring stations had been decommissioned several decades after the war. They had been stripped of their tech and what amenities they had possessed, but when Loki and his escort went inside, they found a half-dozen bed niches with privacy panels still intact. From the looks of the windows, the shield glass was still viable, too, but just in case, the Riders draped their jackets over them.
"If we get an early start tomorrow evening," Loki said, "We'll reach Vestrax by dawn. Sergeant, do you have any information about human activity in the area?"
"Not much, sir. We know there are a few hunter-gatherer settlements in the mountains, but they move around a lot, so we rarely know where they are."
"Hostile?"
"Not particularly; they're even more backward than the normal barbarians, Highness. We'll be safe enough here for the day."
"Good." Loki started for the bunks, then hesitated, tempted to go out and get Sid. But the bunks were small, and he was tired. Sid wasn't going anywhere. Opening the panel, he crawled into the niche and was soon asleep.
Life from death; death from life
Ilthiya-irthiya
Bridge of blood across the ages
Ilthiya-irthiya
Eternal struggle, endless strife
Ilthiya-irthiya
Source: Fragment from the Prime Record, date unknown
He was too close to the fire. Sid turned his head, but the heat on his face didn't let up. He woke and opened his eyes to unbearable brilliance.
The sun!
With a gasp, he straightened, shielding his eyes with his hand. For a moment, the pure joy at seeing sunlight again held him immobile. Eyes adjusting to the glare, he peered through the crawler's window.
A low, concrete building stood a few hundred feet away, half-hidden by trees and undergrowth. It was late afternoon, shadows just starting to lengthen. If only he'd awakened earlier! Who knew when he would be in the sun again?
Sid half-heartedly tugged at the chain around his wrist, but it didn't give. He sighed and flopped back in his seat. As he did, he glimpsed movement at the corner of his eye.
Men! They came out of the trees, a dozen or so, armed with long knives and swords. Several approached the crawler, spotting him at once. They called to their comrades, but Sid couldn't hear them through the crawler's hull. At once, they circled the vehicle, peering inside, lips moving as they spoke to him. He shook his head and lifted his wrist to show the chain dangling from it. Their eyes lit on his Mark and widened. One pantomimed opening the door.
Holy Jess! Was he about to be rescued?
The door failed to yield, however, no matter how hard he yanked and pulled on the latch. The men then stepped in, battering at the windows with their swords, but without success.
Across the clearing, the other Men had surrounded the building. They were busy piling something in front of the door. One of them left and came over to the crawler. From the way the others quickly moved back, Sid figured he must be the leader. Tall and well-built, gauntly handsome, the man gave the crawler a quick look-over then gestured for Sid to get down. As he did so, he reached behind and pulled something off his back. It was a weapon, similar in general size and appearance to the sling-guns used exclusively by the elite Sage Council guards.
Except it wasn't. Instead of firing a bullet, the tip of the barrel began to glow. There was a flash. Sid barely had time to duck as glass shattered, falling all around him. He heard rough laughter, then: "Well, man? Give me your arm!"
Heart pounding, Sid lifted his head. The window was gone. When he saw they meant to shoot the chain, he eagerly lifted his wrist. There was a high-pitched whine, another flash, and the chain was severed. In the seat beside him was a smoking hole.
They hauled him through the now-empty window, setting him on his feet. The man with the beam-gun looked him over.
"You aren't one of their cattle, are you?"
Dry-mouthed, still shaking, Sid shook his head and offered his Mark, praying they wouldn't look too closely.
"Nice clothes." The man's gaze was wary. "Where are you from? How'd you end up here?"
There was something him -- an intelligence and sharpness of gaze -- that convinced Sid to tell the truth.
"I was in Ladijess a week or two ago. There was a hunt..."
"The hunt!" To Sid's surprise, the leader laughed out loud. "Gaia has a sense of irony, it would seem." Seeing Sid's confusion, the man went on. "That's why we're here. Over sixty men, women and children were slaughtered like beasts in Ladijess. Stick around and see them avenged."
Sid cast an anxious look toward the station. "W-who are you? Are you Council guards?"
The man ignored his question.
"We heard there was a high-ranking ilthiya traveling through the mountains. Who's inside here?"
He really was going to get out of this! "There are three ilthi soldiers." Sid pointed to the skips neatly lined up beside the station. "And a prince -- his name is Loki."
Exclamations greeted this bit of intelligence. The leader smiled darkly. "Our lucky day. I would have preferred Alric or that bitch, Katya, but he'll do."
Back at the building, another of the men waved. "Sir! We're ready!" The leader shoved his gun back into his pack.
"What are you doing?" asked Sid.
"We're going to wake His Highness up." The man smiled, showing a fine set of white teeth. "Stay back. It's going to get noisy around here."
For some reason, a memory of the night before came to Sid: of the blinding, white-hot pleasure, the gentleness of the arms that held him afterwards. He watched the man return to the station, waving his men here and there.
"I want the perimeter covered! I don't want any of those damned blood-suckers to get away!"
At Sid's feet, the shadows were lengthening. He turned and ran.
Loki woke to heat and a thunderous roar. Choking on dust, he kicked open the bed panel and was immediately confronted by the blazing hell of the Gaian sun. A huge hole gaped in the wall and ceiling of the station. Someone's boot was visible under a heap of concrete. He heard one of the Riders screaming. Through the blinding glare, he made out moving figures: humans!
Grabbing one of the panels, he lifted it over his head and, jumping out, ran for the shadows. His senses flared. A human to his left! He caught the subtle whisper of steel cutting air. With a twist and spin, he avoided the cut, but his heel caught on a bit of fallen masonry and he fell.
The light was scalding. He gasped, rocketing back to his feet, using the panel to smash the humans out of the way. Treading on a body, he finally escaped the direct sun. His eyes watered profusely; he blinked rapidly, bringing down his ocular membranes. Then it was a little better.
Humans, roughly dressed and armed with their primitive weapons, swarmed the ruin. One of them decapitated a Rider who writhed helplessly, pinned down by the sun. Rage filled Loki and he briefly forgot his own pain, picking up a block of flexite and hurling it the killer. The human fell, his skull crushed.
They were on him then, shouting and cursing. He avoided the first blows, but there were too many. Someone's blade found its way through his ribs. Coughing blood, he went to his knees.
"Hold!" A shout got the humans to back off.
They made way for their leader, a tall, yellow-haired man with green eyes. And he was carrying a beam-rifle! Grimacing, Loki yanked the sword out and threw it away. He saw them recoil. Blood-smeared lips drawing back in a snarl, he lurched to his feet and faced them. All of them stumbled back a step: all but the leader.
"You must be Prince Loki," he said. "I've been..."
He broke off and without taking his eyes from Loki, whipped the rifle around and fired it at a surviving Rider still holed up in a bed-niche. The Rider toppled, headless, to the rubble-strewn floor.
"This is an unexpected pleasure, Prince Loki," the man went on. "I was hoping for the chance to meet one of the monsters of the Ladijess massacre."
Loki's skin prickled. He managed a creditable smile, however, and bowed gracefully. "You have the advantage, human. And you are?"
The yellow-haired man's lip curled. "Evon Maxton is my name; not quite so fancy as yours, eh, vampire?"
He took a step closer. Loki kept a wary eye on the beamer. Where the hell had the human laid his hands on that?
"Maybe I'll keep you alive so you can go back to your demon sire and let him know the name of his doom."
Loki's little-used membranes were doing the trick, pigment darkening enough to let him see clearly. Through the gaping hole in the wall was the surrounding forest, dark and cool beneath its thick canopy of leaves. He returned his attention to Maxton.
"Oh, no fear there, barbarian. I'll be sure to tell the king all about you."
Maxton just laughed, a short, harsh sound.
Loki kept smiling. "Where did you get the beamer?" He looked around at the destruction. "And the explosives?"
"Hey," one of the humans exclaimed. "Lookit his eyes. What's goin' on with..."
Loki moved. It was likely none of them had ever seen an ilthiyan in full hunt mode. Regardless, none were prepared. He had the beamer away from Maxton, swinging the barrel up to smash the man in the jaw and bring him down. Using it like a club, he broke the necks and backs of the others, ignoring the sting of their blades.
When all were down, he flattened himself against the wall, hearing shouts from outside. Checking the rifle, he found it was charged. Positioning himself just under the broken roof, he used it to pick off the handful of men still outside. They tried to run, but the beam was deadly for hundreds of feet, and they never had a chance. When all was silent again, Loki lowered his arm and, back against the wall, slid to a crouch.
Maxton was still alive, lying in the sun. The temptation was strong in Loki to finish him off, but there was that damned beamer. Loki stared at it, perplexed and unsettled. It didn't look like ilthiyan manufacture. On the stock was etched an elaborate, unfamiliar design. When he checked, Loki saw it was identical to the tattoo on the Man's wrist. Clan Mark?
Finally, he tied the man's wrists and ankles. Picking his way through fallen masonry to the station door, Loki looked out. The crawler was still in the middle of the clearing where it had been left to recharge, but there was no sign of his treacherous slave.
It was still very early: another hour before the sun went down. Loki briskly ran his hands over the unconscious human's body. He found nothing other than a slim, well-thumbed booklet of their saint's writings. He tossed it into the rubble and sat back to wait out the sun.
Maxton remained unconscious, not stirring until the sunset faded. He was not happy to find himself still alive. Snarling, he tried to move away, but Loki grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.
Shoving him against the wall, Loki said, "Where did you get the beamer?"
The human's jaw clenched. "Go to hell, vampire!"
Loki's lip curled. He leaned close, fist bunching in the front of Maxton's jacket. "Unless you answer my questions, you'll be there first. Where did you get the beamer?"
There was a look in the human's eyes for just an instant, an expression of fear and raw hatred, then he looked away.
"Suit yourself." Loki opened his fingers, releasing the bound Man to collapse at his feet.
The last of the daylight faded. Loki's membranes retracted. His surroundings came back into comfortable focus. He lifted the man by the scruff of his neck -- heavier than Sid -- and pushed him out of the ruins. The human was nearly blind, of course. The moon had not yet risen.
Loki shoved a free hand into his pocket and found the crawler's remote control. Lights came on. The human flinched, stopping in his tracks. Loki gave him another shove, sending him on.
A window was gone, shot out by the beam rifle: nothing else would have done it. Damn fools. Inside, a fragment of chain was all that was left of Sid's bonds.
"Lose something?" Maxton sounded darkly amused.
"Don't worry. He won't get far." Opening the door to the cargo space, Loki picked the Man up and threw him into the small opening with the baggage. Maxton cursed steadily in human, mostly exhortations to bring down the wrath of Gaia. Loki slammed the lid and locked the crawler down again.
The skips were still by the station. All but one had been smashed by the explosion. While that one was dinged and dented, it looked functional. With a bit of finagling, Loki got it started. Entering the tracer's code into its small sensor, he was pleased to see both his and Sid's chemical tags show up on the screen.
It had been awhile since Loki had ridden a skip -- not since his days of obligatory service in the Riders. He'd forgotten how much fun it was, how exhilarating the feel of the wind on his face and the swift, smooth glide of the vehicle over rough ground. He was almost sorry when he came upon Sid, running through the moonlit forest like the wild, graceful creature he was. When Loki swooped alongside, Sid tried to throw himself to the ground, but Loki swept an arm around his waist and gathered him up.
It was a mistake. The bandits had cut Sid's chain, a length of which still dangled from his manacle. Loki got the full force of it in his face, the blow smashing his nose and cutting a deep gash in his forehead. The impact knocked him back, loosening his hold on his fractious prisoner and his control of the skip. He tried desperately to regain the latter, but it was too late. A tree loomed before him. Only by sheer luck and desperation did Loki manage to fling himself from the skip before it crashed.
Sid was running again. Loki got to his feet, blood running down the back of his throat and into his eyes. His patience teetered on the edge of a precipice. He'd suffered more inconvenience lately than he could remember, and all at the hands of these animals! Furiously, he wiped blood from his eyes and willed his flesh to heal quickly. No sooner did the bleeding stop than he was after the slave.
There was no need for the sensor now. His healing nose picked up the Man's unmistakable scent. Loki licked blood from his lips and imagined it was Sid's, hot and spiked with fear. The feeling of the hunt returned: the sharpening of the senses, the keen enjoyment of the bright night all around.
Loki caught up with his slave in an open space, a steep, rocky clearing through which a swift-moving stream tumbled. At its edge, Sid whirled to face him, dark hair flying, his body tense as a coiled spring. He had no defense but the chain. Even so, there was only defiance in that dark, sparkling glare.
It sang along Loki's nerves: the last desperate moments of the cornered prey. He leapt, ignoring the cruel cut of the chain across his face again, slamming into the Man's slight body and taking them both down into the stream. Sid screamed, bashing at Loki until the ilthiya caught his flailing wrist and held it. His weight on Sid's hips pinned the human in the shallow, icy water. He wrapped his other hand around Sid's head and pushed it to one side, exposing the frantically pulsing vein.
The human's blood, thick and spicy, filled Loki's senses. He was barely aware of Sid's struggles and cries. They faded quickly anyway. It was only some dim inner voice, a sudden break in his trance that brought Loki back from the brink. He pulled away, cursing, furious with himself. Getting up, he pulled Sid from the stream. There was no resistance; the boy lay like a broken doll at his feet.
The rush of sensation hit Loki and his head swam. Drunk, he fell back to lie beside his slave and watched the stars spin. When the effects faded, Loki sat up. He ran an unsteady hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. Apprehensively, he reached over and put his fingers against Sid's bruised neck. A pulse! Weak but dogged. Arithaga to spare.
There was a human med kit in the crawler. He would have to get Sid back there and get some plasma into him as quickly as possible. This trip was not going as planned. It didn't help Loki's mood that some of it was his own fault.
Loki draped the boy over his shoulder, but as he turned to go back, he was confronted by an unexpected sight. In his path stood a Man of striking good looks. The human's body, clad in form-fitting black, was unmistakably male and well-proportioned. His face, however, had a beauty that defied such distinctions as sex. His bone structure was fine, almost delicate. Dark hair, straight and fine as silk had been cropped boyishly short, falling into his eyes and wisping over the collar of his coat.
"You must be a stranger." The Man's voice was as pleasing as his form. "There is no hunting of humans on this land."
Loki blinked, but the apparition remained. "By what authority do you command me?"
A gun appeared in the Man's hands. It wasn't a beamer, but a regulation military rifle, ilthiyan, and plenty capable of slowing him down. Irritation flared. Did that fool, Thorne, know what was afoot in his lands? Even someone reputedly indifferent to wild human presence must surely object to the idea of them running around with ilthiyan weapons!
"My name Misha," said the Man, "and I speak with the authority of my master, His Grace, Duke of Vestrax."
Loki's mood immediately lifted. "Thorne? You're Thorne's?"
"'His Grace' to you," retorted the Man coldly. The gun shifted in his arm; he looked like he knew how to use it.
Loki held up empty hands. "I'm no threat," he reassured. "I'm Loki Sviatoslav. I've been sent by the king."
Misha's gaze traveled up and down Loki with insolent familiarity. "I doubt that," he said. "Do you have some proof?"
Loki started to object then realized what he looked like, dusty, tattered and blood-stained. "I do," he replied, pulling off his signet. He threw it across the clearing to the Man, who caught it deftly and frowned at it, eyes narrowing.
Misha threw the signet back and lowered the gun, but only slightly. "The hunting of humans is still illegal, Your Highness. I must respectfully insist you respect my lord's wishes while you're on his land."
"You have a very sharp tongue," Loki observed drily. It occurred to him in an instant of irrelevance that Sid and this prickly, elegant human might look very good together. "Have you any transportation? This slave belongs to me and I need to get him back to my crawler."
"I'm taking you to Lord Thorne," replied the Man. "I will see to your slave's health, Your Highness."
"Don't be insolent, human! I'm going to my crawler. Then I shall call upon your master."
A shot rang out, deafening in the quiet woodland. The bullet exploded violently at Loki's feet, shrapnel flying in all directions, a good bit of it driving deep into his ankle. Cursing, he went to one knee, nearly losing his grip on Sid. The beautiful demon, glaring, drew a whistle from around his neck and blew a sharp blast. The low hum of a solar engine filled the night and a wide-bottomed skid appeared. The human climbed aboard and guided it over to Loki. He beckoned imperiously for Loki to get up.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I obey only my lord. Do you require assistance?"
Gritting his teeth on the pain of his shattered ankle, thinking black thoughts, Loki managed to lift Sid onto the flatbed before dragging himself up as well. His ankle sent waves up pain through him. He cursed the human, but Misha, without a downward glance, gunned the engine and they were off.
Your clan is your anchor, your place in the world. Your mother and father and their parents before them give meaning to your life, for it is from their union, chosen and blessed by Gaia, that her sacred plan will be carried forth through the ages.
Catechism: Family Life, James Dracine, Sixth Sage
Loki picked shrapnel from his flesh in silence, trying to get it all out before his skin could heal over it. His fingers were bloody and his lips white from holding back curses before the wound was clean and he could fall back on his elbows and let his immune system do its work.
They were high above the forest. Its dense, green canopy passed beneath them, swallowing the sound of the skid's engine. Surely they would reach Vestrax soon! According to Loki's information, it was a mere fifty-five miles north of the monitoring station, yet they had been traveling for at least an hour. He looked down at Sid. The Man was still unconscious, but breathing evenly and deeply.
The events in the clearing sat uneasily on Loki. He'd never come so close to Frenzy, not even during the hunt where more than a few of his companions had lost control to the lust for blood and violence. Loki gave himself a mental shake and turned his attention to Misha.
"Where are we?"
The human turned around. "We're almost there," he called back. "Thorne House."
"What?"
"Hold on!"
Loki's response died unspoken. Unexpectedly, the land dropped away in a series of massive cliffs to a long, narrow valley. Four towers rose from a broad, stone plateau jutting out halfway up the cliffs. The towers stood at the four corners of a sprawling, white palace of white that seemed to glow against the darker cliffs around it. His interest sharpened.
This wasn't the research facility. The pictures he'd seen in the old records had shown a much different style of architecture, typically low, rectangular and featureless. These structures were human; something about the architecture stirred a sense of the familiar in him.
Misha brought the skid down the face of the upper cliffs, fighting the strong updrafts hitting the hull. As they descended, Loki saw a long, flat stretch of garden-covered roof between the towers.
A road had once led up the cliffs to the palace, but now a great chunk of it was gone, leaving the place high and isolated. In the valley below, however, Loki saw no sign of human habitation.
Thorne's slave landed on the roof of the southeast tower. It overlooked the main structure and its unusual roof-garden. On the latter, enormous planters were everywhere, positioned to create meandering walks shaded by small trees and lined with flowering shrubs and vines. Looking closer, Loki saw frequent openings cut into the roof, as well. Some were skylights, others large enough to reveal small, inner courtyards.
Loki picked up Sid and, with Misha leading the way, headed into the tower and down a winding stair. The human led Loki through high, spacious chambers, under soaring ceilings and over tiled floors gleaming white-gold in the glow of hanging lamps. Most astonishing was how open it all was. Some rooms had entire walls made up of nothing more than a handful of graceful columns. There were frequent balconies and the skylights he had seen from the tower poured down moonlight.
Each turn of a corner, it seemed, brought one face to face with courtyards he'd seen from the tower, pocket-sized gardens filled with plants, many of which seemed confused about where they properly belonged. Flowing and leafy vines crept in from outside, unchallenged, to send traceries of green across the pale, interior walls. It was fantastically beautiful -- and during the day, it would be a molten lake of solar radiation.
Misha led them to a small, but nicely furnished bedroom. It opened onto the inevitable garden, but there were shutters fitted sensibly between the columns. Loki lay Sid on the bed. The boy's pulse was weak, but still steady.
"I'll see to him in a few minutes, Your Highness," Misha promised. "This way, please."
Back into the warren of corridors and halls they went, coming finally to a parlor with a splendid view of the valley. Promising to fetch the duke immediately, Misha hurried away. Loki found a seat near a low-burning oil lamp to wait. His patience grew thinner as the long minutes passed and there was no sign of either Misha or the duke.
Where were the servants? Not once in this echoing mausoleum had he seen a sign of another being, human or ilthiyan. Yet everything was sparkling clean. The rooms were beautifully furnished, the upholstery luxurious, the craftsmanship exquisite -- and human. In fact, everything about this palace was human, from its graceful archways to its lethal openness.
Restlessly, he paced the room, pausing outside on the balcony to stare briefly into the darkness below then came back inside.
I shouldn't have left Sid alone.
He stopped by the fireplace. It was ornamented by spare, pleasing carvings. The centerpiece was a woman's face, big eyes and delicate features, the long hair swirling around it woven into a halo of decorative knots. Jessahana. The First Sage.
This was a damned Home! Loki didn't know whether to laugh out loud or swear. The suspicion that Thorne had gone into Decline returned. He crossed the parlor and threw open the doors. Outside, the hall was deserted. Through a skylight, the moon laid a square of luminescence in the center of the floor. Only the plants moved, leaves stirring in the breeze.
The duke's slave had taken Loki on a deliberately torturous route through the palace, probably hoping to confuse him. Ilthiyan directional sense, however, was much better than a human's. The prince found Sid again quickly.
The slave, alone and unharmed, slept deeply. His neck was bandaged, but his color was good. Loki leaned over the bed, tracing his fingers across the young human's cheek. The skin was warm and yielding. "Sid?"
No response. A cup sat on the table beside the bed. Loki picked it up and sniffed, catching the lingering fragrance of herbs.
The first sound he'd heard in a while drifted into the quiet room, the distant trill of birdsong. He stepped out into the garden and, dismayed, saw the glow on the distant peaks. Daybreak!
He closed the shutters and locked them. After a moment's consideration, Loki set a chair against the door. The bed was human-sized, too narrow and short to hold him. Settling himself on the floor beside it, his back to the wall, the prince resigned himself to a long, uncomfortable day.
There were dreams; so many dreams. Sid woke in a sweat. The room was dark, his bed comfortable. For a moment, he allowed himself to think good fortune had placed him somewhere safe. Then he turned his head and knew it had not.
The ilthiyan prince sat beside the bed, head fallen forward, arms folded over his chest. His dark hair hid his profile, but he seemed asleep.
I'm still alive!
Sid lay still, breathless with the revelation, the memories rushing back. He had been so sure of death. The feeling of fangs sinking into his neck...the pain, so excruciating in that eternal moment...the warmth that followed, robbing him of will and outrage.
Beneath the covers, Sid's hands crept toward his groin before he realized it. He froze, going cold with dismay. What was he doing? Ashamed and frightened, he rolled over as quietly as he could and got out of bed.
Whoever had laid him down had also exchanged his clothing for a nightshirt. It hung to his knees and was soft and warm. He looked across the bed at the sleeping ilthiya in disbelief.
There was a chair under the door. Sid froze at the sight. Were they under siege? He wished he could remember something, but it was only the stream and the pain and the smell of the damp earth as he fell.
Again, a rush of desire overwhelmed him. Sid stifled a groan. This time he could not help rubbing his cock. There was an odd taste in his mouth, too, pleasurable, but unfamiliar. He returned to the bed, creeping back under the covers. Pulling them over his head, he abandoned any attempt at control, biting the pillow to keep silent. Afterwards, languor stole over him and he slept.
Loki drifted in and out of shallow sleep throughout the day. Finally, giving up, he watched the fine, bright edges of the shutters dim with the approach of sunset.
From the sounds of breathing and occasional shifting about, Sid seemed almost fully recovered. Maybe, thought Loki, his Frenzy hadn't been as deep as he'd thought. Odd, that he could have lost control like that. He had to admit there had been something immensely pleasurable, if vulgar, about the experience.
Of greater concern, of course, was the mysterious and absent Duke of Thorne. Loki remembered his father's orders:
"Impress upon him that he's coming back to Neminora, either with you as a free man and aristocrat, or as a prisoner with Adrian. The choice is a greater courtesy than he deserves."
"Unnn..." Sid stirred, rolling over to face Loki, and opening his eyes. He was pale, but there was a touch of color in his cheeks. Dark red hair spread over the pillow. "Your Highness?"
A most unexpected feeling rushed through Loki. He could not take his eyes from the human's mouth, the lips so soft and still bruised from the night before.
"It awakens." he said lightly. "Come here."
At once there was fear. Sid's hand crept to the bandages around his neck.
"Sid." The warning was clear.
Sid's head bowed. He pushed aside the covers and got up.
"Take off the nightshirt."
For an instant, the usual defiance flashed. Then the human's shoulders slumped. He pulled off the garment and stood, exposing an erection every bit as hard and eager as Loki's. In surprise, Loki glanced up. Sid's mouth was pressed together and he wore a look of angry confusion.
It had been in Loki's mind to have Sid pleasure him quickly so he could get on with business, but suddenly, the prince wanted more than that. He rose and took hold of the shrinking human, prodding him back to the bed. Sid, making a tiny sound, crawled up onto it, pulling his knees under him and lifting his buttocks.
Such soft skin. Loki's caress left gooseflesh. "Not that," he said gently, pulling the Man back to his knees. "I don't have anything to ease the way, nor do I trust the medicine in this place."
Sid leaned forward almost eagerly, it seemed, to take Loki's sex in hand, to open his mouth and swallow the head. Loki groaned at the rush of pleasure that followed. Such a talented tongue, such dexterous fingers! The slave tore groan after groan from the prince, pushing him at last over the edge of endurance. Climax left him so weak he fell onto the bed and lay, unable to move.
"Y-your Highness..." Sid's voice shook.
Through blurred vision, Loki saw the human's hands go to his own groin. "By all means," he murmured. Much as he wanted to watch the erotic sight, his eyelids were too heavy, drifting shut and leaving him in a soft, warm cocoon of contentment.
It was a long time before Loki had his wits back. Sid was no longer on the bed. Loki heard the splash of water. Rolling over, he looked across the room. The slave stood at a low vanity with a bowl and pitcher, cleaning himself. At the sound of creaking bedsprings, he turned quickly around.
Loki was mystified by his own behavior. There was too much going on around here to be indulging in such pleasures, however sweet. For all he knew, he'd been brought to the lair of the outlaw humans and here he was, cavorting with his slave.
"Get dressed," he ordered, sitting up.
"They -- they took my clothes."
"There might be something in that wardrobe."
Sid went to it, pulling open the doors. It was stuffed with clothing. "They're women's clothes," he objected, turning around.
Loki, however, frowned and went to have a closer look. "No," he said, smiling slowly. "They're not." He found something and threw it at Sid. "Try this."
The dark eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with disbelief. "This is a girl's!"
"Put it on." Loki didn't feel like arguing.
Face crimson, his slave reluctantly obeyed. Sid seemed less upset once the garments were on. Loki smiled, satisfied. The dark-green, long-sleeved tunic, belted at the Man's narrow waist, fell tastefully to mid-thigh, but the neckline plunged. The hose so tight and thin, nothing was concealed. On a hunch, Loki rummaged through the vanity and found jewelry of all kinds jumbled carelessly together. Sid had lost the gold chain somewhere, so Loki picked out a beaded collar of semi-precious gems and fastened it around his throat. Steering the youth to a mirror, he had the satisfaction of seeing surprise and interest before Sid remembered he was angry.
"Look outside," Loki instructed, "and tell me if you see anyone."
Sid gave him a doubtful look then pulled the chair away from the door. Opening it a crack, he peered out. "There's an old man walking down the hall," he reported, "lighting the lamps."
"Human?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Just one?"
Sid nodded.
That was encouraging. Loki went to the garden shutters and set his hand against one. Cool. He shot the bolt and opened it. The sky was still pale, but the walled garden lay in shadow.
"I think it's time we paid our respects to His Grace."
The hallway lamps burned brightly, but the slave Sid had seen was gone. With Sid at his heels, Loki found his way through eerily empty corridors to the parlor where Thorne's slave had left him the night before. The room was deserted.
"Where is everyone?" wondered Sid.
"Maybe Thorne prefers not to see his slaves at work." Katya was like that. Her humans were trained never to be seen or heard. Loki found it unnerving.
"Is he insane?"
Loki grinned at the sincere curiosity in Sid's voice. "It's possible."
Inexplicably, Sid blushed and turned away. The gesture had an even more profound effect upon Loki, who forgot the duke, forgot his mission, forgot the disturbing strangeness of this place, and was mesmerized by the simple movement.
"See if you can track down a slave," he said, managing to keep his voice steady. "If you find one, bring him back here."
Sid nodded and, without looking back, hurried off. Loki stared after him, heart racing, his entire body tingling.
Nor could he shake thoughts of Sid as he went his own way, peering into rooms and down corridors for some sign of life. The human's curiosity and intelligence, his indomitable spirit entranced Loki; his lithe body and unconscious sensuality were like some kind of drug.
Drug.
Loki stopped dead. He remembered the wild emotions that had driven him through the night-bound forest, the explosion of rage and lust at the sight of Sid. What if Loki had not experienced Frenzy at all? What if it had been something else, something even more rare and unsettling?
Rhora.
Alone in the cool, moonlit hallway, Loki choked on an incredulous laugh. Rhora? With a human? Ludicrous! Even if he had lost his mind to such an extent, it was common knowledge kharizmine was lethal to humans. Sid would be most assuredly dead!
Defiantly, Loki glared at a smiling stone visage of the human's saint above the archway before him. No. It wasn't rhora, that most passionate of ilthiyan bonds: it was more likely a watered-down version of Frenzy. He was letting this entire mission, this place, get to him. Determined not to give in to nerves, Loki continued his search for the elusive duke.
A random turn brought him into a rotunda and a broad, marble stair spiraling down. His attention sharpened. At the bottom, he found an abrupt change from the airy, green palace above. Here, the luxury was definitely ilthiyan. Deep carpets covered what had likely been stone floors. The walls were plastered and papered, hung with beautiful paintings in heavy old frames. Lamps were everywhere, all of them lit and filling the low-ceilinged space with their bright glow.
The palace's lower level had probably served the original occupants as storage and, much like Neminora, was comprised of a warren of natural caves and caverns. Several of the rooms were caves, open-faced in the cliffs. Loki encountered a few locked doors, but most of the floor was as deserted as the palace above.
A peculiar, pleasing fragrance caught Loki's attention. He'd smelled it before, but where? Following his nose, he came to a set of double doors. There was a response to his knock, but it was too muffled to make out. Deciding it was an invitation, Loki went in.
The room beyond was open to the fading twilight. Ribbons of smoke drifted across it from a high-backed chair at the back of the chamber. From there, the occupant had a good view of the valley without exposing himself to the last bits of light.
"Your Grace?"
The man stirred in the shadows, looking away from the dying light. His hair, frost-fair, long and tangled, lay loose on broad shoulders. He reclined on a sofa, surrounded by cushions and silk sheets. Wrapped in dark-red velvet, he held a long pipe. He regarded Loki from half-closed eyes.
"Ah," he said after a long hesitation. "You're Angelus' indulgence. Loren, isn't it? Or Laurie?"
"Loki, Your Grace."
Dreamflower! Loki recognized the smell now. It was pervasive in the pleasure district of Armistice.
"Where is Misha?" asked the duke after a moment.
"I have no idea. Nor have I seen any other servants."
"Of course not. They've gone home." Thorne slumped back and took a deep drag on the pipe. It was a beautiful piece, bone probably, long-stemmed, with an intricately carved bowl turned a deep mahogany from frequent use.
"I arrived last night." Had Thorne entered Decline? "You weren't told?"
Again that long pause. "Oh, yes. Yes, I was. Welcome to Thorne House. What do you want?"
"My father invites you to Neminora."
Another long pull. Loki watched the duke exhale the smoke in a series of perfect rings.
"Very well," said Thorne finally.
The haze was making Loki dizzy. He wasn't sure he heard correctly. "You'll come?"
"Didn't I just say so?" Thorne looked confused. Tossing aside covers and cushions, he rose. Holding his robe together with one hand and the pipe in the other, he passed Loki to stand at the cave's mouth, looking out. He remained thus for several minutes, the night wind catching the smoke and wisping it away.
Just as Loki wondered if he'd been forgotten, the duke turned back around and returned to the sofa. "I'm in the middle of a project," he said. "It will take at least another week. After that, we can leave."
A week?
"Do you really need that much time? My father's patience..."
"I know all about your father's patience. None better, sadly. If he thinks to use force on my land, however, he does so at Neminora's peril."
Loki doubted whether the drug-addled duke would even notice if the king's guard were to burst through the door wearing women's undergarments, but kept that to himself.
"As you say, Your Grace. In the meantime, I was attacked by humans on your land last night -- humans carrying ilthiyan weapons."
Thorne blinked. "Oh," he said, and, "that's right. I'd forgotten. Misha said something about that. My servants retrieved your belongings and equipment during the day. I've also had the monitoring station completely razed. No sense in leaving it around to agitate the humans."
"How very thorough of you, Your Grace, but I had a prisoner. He was locked in the crawler's boot."
Another long pause. "Odd. Misha didn't mention a prisoner."
"Where is my vehicle?" Loki felt as if he were on quicksand.
"On the tower pad... Wait! Misha will be back soon. He'll show you..."
But Loki didn't stop. Abandoning any pretense at courtesy, he strode from the smoky chamber. Taking great gulps of clean, sweet air, he ran through the palace and up to the top of the south tower. The wrecked skip sat on one side of the open space. There was no sign of the crawler.
"Damnation!" He glared at the wreckage, then, kicking a piece of metal out of way, turned his back on it. Striding across the tower to the battlements, he surveyed the surroundings. With cliffs behind and cliffs below and the single access road destroyed, he was all but stranded here.
A familiar rumble broke the evening quiet. Lights appeared, rising up from the thick forest in the valley directly below. The skid! He waited, but it didn't come in his direction, settling on the west tower instead. The night was not yet bright enough to make out it clearly, but Loki saw only a single figure. Misha?
With grim look over his shoulder at his skip, the prince left the tower.
Above all things, the Creche of Reifu is the most important. It must be safeguarded, maintained and cherished, for it alone ensures the ilthiya may rise above the curse visited upon us by irthiya. To lose the Creche is to lose our future.
Abraham Kcamus, Directives, 0857ITC/1372UTC
Sid wandered from one amazing room to another, finding each one deserted. He heard no human voices, although the palace was hardly silent. Fountains filled the air with the music of falling water. Leaves rustled as breezes came and went, whispering after him as he passed.
A palace this size should have dozens of servants. Yet each time he turned down a new corridor, or let himself into another room, he found them deserted. He hadn't imagined the old man, had he?
After awhile, however, Sid became less interested in the servants and more curious about his surroundings. Even Neminora, with all its luxury, did not speak to him like this. The fountains, the graceful flow of rooms from one to another, seemed to ease the tumult inside him. Carved images peeped from beneath the leafy vines creeping in from outside: faces, animals, images of grains and fruits. Entranced, he forgot he was looking for servants.
He came upon one grand archway over which someone had engraved words. His agonizing session in the ilthiyan language machine had left him literate in their language, but not his own. Sid stared at the symbols, mystified. Just beyond it was a set of doors, a face carved over them. His mouth dropped. This face he recognized: the elegant, stylized profile was used from one end of Gaia to the other. Jessahana, Beloved Lady, First Sage!
The doors suddenly flew open. Sid took several hasty steps backward. Another human, a Man not much older than himself, burst into the corridor and stopped dead at the sight of him.
"You're awake!" said the stranger.
"W-who are you?"
The newcomer was taller by a head and as beautiful as any woman. Suddenly, Sid realized who owned all the gauzy, feminine clothing he'd found in the wardrobe.
"I'm Misha, Lord Gabriel's rhorani," replied the newcomer, looking around the corridor. "Where is the prince?"
"Looking for Lord Thorne."
Misha said something under his breath and pushed past Sid, heading down the hallway at a good clip. Sid followed.
"Where is everyone?" he asked, catching up to the other human.
"The servants leave at night," replied Misha, swerving around a corner and quickening his steps. "How dare he? How dare he impose himself on my lord uninvited!"
"I think," Sid replied, "there isn't much he wouldn't dare."
They arrived in a big, round chamber with a round hole cut in the roof. Moonlight poured through, illuminating a stairway descending into shadow. Without hesitation, Misha started down. Sid hesitated. The familiar scent of age and stone rose from the floor below, mixed with more pleasing scents. It reminded him strongly of Neminora.
"There you are!"
Sid nearly jumped out of his skin. Whirling around, he saw his master. Prince Loki did not look happy, crossing the floor in long strides. Warmth, sudden and unexpected, flooded Sid and he was momentarily transfixed by the ilthiya's dangerous beauty.
"Did you see him? The duke's slave?"
"Y-yes, Your Highness. He went downstairs."
Prince Loki pushed past him and went down, taking the steps two at a time. Their brief contact left Sid tingling. Halfway to the bottom, the prince paused, hand tightening on the balustrade and Sid half-expected him to turn around. Instead, the ilthiya straightened and continued down and out of sight.
Without thinking, Sid's hand crept to his belly where his cock pressed, rigid, against the flimsy cloth of his hose. What the hell was wrong with him? Trying desperately not to touch himself, he retreated to the edges of the chamber where, half-hidden by a massive, potted fern, a stone bench offered a discreet retreat.
It was no good. The pressure in his gut made him groan and, this time, when his hand slid under the waistband of his hose, he made no attempt to stop himself. Rough and fast, he brought himself to painful relief, then slumped forward, trembling.
"What a beautiful sight."
Horrified, Sid looked up. An ilthiya stood nearby, applauding gently. He was as tall as Sid's master, but leaner, bones sharper under pale, nearly translucent skin. His hair was white, like an old man's except soft and supple, spread in a snowy avalanche across his shoulders. Dressed in a pair of loose, black satin trousers and long coat, he approached the embarrassed human with a sleepy smile.
"So, you're young Sviatoslav's rhorani. How charming." He stopped right in front of the bench and, as Sid shrank back, said, "Don't be afraid, little beauty. I won't hurt you."
Deftly, he produced a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and, taking Sid's hand, wiped it clean.
"How naughty of him to leave you in such need." Leaning forward, he lifted Sid's chin. "What remarkable eyes. I don't believe I've ever seen quite that shape before. Are you one of Neminora's domestics?"
Pulling back, Sid shook his head. The ilthiya straightened, turning slowly at the sound of voices drifting up the stairwell.
"Ah, Misha! There you are!"
Sid jumped to his feet at the sight of Prince Loki, face like a thundercloud, coming up the stairs after Misha.
"Your Grace!" exclaimed Misha, going straight to his master. "I'm sorry I wasn't back in time to stop them..."
This was the duke? Sid stared from one ilthiya to the other. The prince seemed to seethe with strong emotion held strictly in check. The Duke of Vestrax, on the other hand, gave him a distant smile.
"Don't fret, Misha. Your Highness, I trust you found your vehicle?"
The prince glanced quickly toward Sid, silvery eyes glinting red. A moment later, he turned his unsettling gaze on the duke. Thorne's distant smile didn't waver.
"What about my crawler?"
Thorne looked expectantly toward the human youth who shrugged and replied, "It was too big to fit onto the skid. I left it there."
The prince stared at him a moment, then turned back to the duke. "I need your link immediately," he said.
"I don't have one."
"You can't be serious!"
"I told you. All the tech was destroyed." The duke lifted his hand to push back a flyaway strand of hair. It trembled ever so slightly. "And why should I have need of one? There's no one in Neminora worth talking to."
He hesitated. "But we shouldn't be standing about in this drafty hallway. I instructed the servants to prepare a room. Come, Your Highness. Shall we discuss this in more congenial surroundings?"
"Your Grace..." interrupted Misha
"Shhh." The duke's hand dropped briefly onto his shoulder and the Man subsided into unhappy silence. "Bring refreshments to the east overlook, please."
In silence, Sid followed the ilthi to a broad, tiled terrace looking out across the valley. The night was clear and bright with stars, the moon just risen. Near the edge of the terrace, beside the balustrade, a table had been set with crystal and white linen. In a bowl of water, small candles floated.
"Sit down," invited the duke, gesturing carelessly toward the chairs drawn up to the table. Sid realized with a start Thorne meant him, too. He darted a wary glance at the prince, but Loki's gaze was fixed on the duke. Thorne took his own invitation, sitting down in the chair nearest the balustrade.
"Why have your servants gone?" asked the prince.
Torches set in wrought-iron sconces lit the terrace. The air was rich with the scent of the plants growing in the pots and planters scattered across it and lining the palace walls.
From the pocket of his robe, Thorne brought out a pipe and a pouch. "It's part of our agreement."
"Agreement?"
"I protect them against bandits and use my medical knowledge to heal their ills. In return, they maintain this..." He gestured at the palace, "...and see to our needs."
"They don't care that you've taken over one of their precious Homes?"
"The woodlanders are heretics. They broke with Gaia's sages long ago. After this building was cut off by earthquakes, they developed alternative structures for their religion. Of course they were suspicious when I first arrived, but we've become quite good friends."
"Do they sacrifice themselves for your food, too?"
"Of course not." Lord Thorne regarded the prince in amazement. "I have a human rhorani, just like you do. Why would I need anyone else?"
"Impossible!"
For some reason, the prince seemed very agitated. He stood, tense, his fists clenched at his sides, alternating his ferocious glare between Thorne and Sid.
Thorne blinked several times, looking bewildered, then shrugged and lit his pipe.
"Not at all. It takes only a small amount of his blood to give me my primary nutrients. The rest can be supplemented with fruit juices and..."
"Not that! Human rhorani? Kharizmine is poisonous to their species!"
"How can you say so when he stands a mere an arm's length from you?"
Thorne, smiling widely, settled back in his chair and took another drag of his pipe. The smoke had a flowery fragrance quite different from tobacco. His gaze settled on Sid.
"You could do a lot worse. He's delightful."
"I don't believe you."
"What is your explanation?" Thorne asked gently.
"This is absurd," grated the prince. "I've seen the evidence, damn it! It happens every now and then in the brothels: someone gets carried away and goes into rhora with a whore. Every time, the human dies."
"As you wish." The duke exhaled another cloud.
Sid listened to this with growing dismay. "What's kharizmine?"
"Be silent!" thundered Loki.
"Don't be so cruel!" scolded the duke, glaring at the prince. He leaned toward Sid. "Kharizmine is a part of all ilthi. When we are passionately in love, our saliva..."
"Your Grace!" Prince Loki's complexion seemed nearly human in the flood of color that suffused it. "I'm sure you must be mistaken."
Sid barely noticed his master's uncharacteristic mortification. He rubbed his bandaged neck, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "L-like a drug?" he asked faintly.
"Yes! Exactly!" Triumphantly, Thorne leaned back, looking up at Prince Loki. "He's terribly bright, isn't he?"
"This is absurd! Sid! Wait for me inside!"
"Oh, Your Highness," objected the duke, "surely not..."
"Sid!"
Sid ran.
In the corridor, he walked rapidly away, heart pounding, dread making it hard to swallow. He hadn't gone far, however, before he met Misha, carrying a heavily laden tray toward the terrace. The other Man gave him a startled look, but didn't stop, continuing on and out of sight.
Eventually, Sid's aimless flight brought him to another terrace, this one facing the wall of cliffs behind the temple. Shaded by the building, there were not so many plants and it was very dark. His vision gradually adjusted and he stepped out, making his way by moonlight along the back of the building. Broad steps led up to another terrace. A fountain played merrily in the center, surrounded by a stone bench. Sid sat down on it and stared bleakly into the dark water. He was still there when the rustle of approaching footsteps drew him from his gloomy thoughts. Looking up, he saw Misha.
The beautiful youth hesitated then sighed, coming to sit beside him on the bench.
"It seems your lord is as ignorant as you when it comes to this." He reached over, touching Sid lightly, briefly, on the chest. "He's arguing with His Grace over what is so obvious. He went into rhora with you and now tries to deny it."
"I don't know what that is."
"So Gabriel has said." Misha smiled. "He sent me to you to help you understand."
"I don't want to understand," muttered Sid. "I just want to be left alone!"
"You don't mean that, of course." Misha seemed amused. "Even now, your body aches for him, am I right?"
"No!" But to Sid, his own denial sounded forced.
"You can't help it. The kharizmine in your blood."
"Will it be like this forever?"
Misha laughed. "No. Your body will grow accustomed to it and the effect will fade."
In spite of himself, Sid was curious. "Is that how it is for you?"
"Yes."
"But -- you seem... You and he..." Sid floundered, unsure of how to express himself.
Misha's smile widened. "I love Gabriel," he said. "But it has nothing to do with the kharizmine. I'm human. We work differently."
"How can you love a vampire?"
"How can you love anyone?" countered Misha. "Gabriel is a brilliant man and very kind. It was impossible to do otherwise."
"How did you come to be his?"
"He asked for someone and I volunteered. It was not hard to fall in love with him. I live here with him, and in doing so, serve both him and my people."
"I'm not in love with Prince Loki. He's a bastard!"
"Then you're luckier than he is," said Misha.
"How do you reckon that?"
"Because the effects of kharizmine are only temporary in humans. For the ilthi, it's another matter entirely."
After a week, Loki had a good idea of how the palace functioned. At dawn, Misha took his skid down to the valley, returning with a handful of humans who spent the daylight hours cleaning and tending the profuse gardens. At sunset, he returned them to the valley, leaving the palace sparkling and deserted, ready to be enjoyed by its ilthiyan occupants. From time to time, he and Thorne descended into the forest below during the hours of darkness, presumably to perform whatever assistance Thorne provided the humans in this bizarre reciprocity.
Gabriel Thorne was a conundrum. Physically, his great age did not seem to affect him as it did the king. He didn't appear to suffer from difficulties in regulating body temperature or the severe arthritis that afflicted other Wanderers at the end of their long lives. Only his addiction to dreamweed hinted at the inevitable deterioration of mind and body. He was surrounded always by its faint, sweet perfume.
Loki decided it was that addiction that was responsible for Thorne's inability to organize himself for the trip to Neminora. The duke was absent for long stretches of the night. When Loki tried to find him and hurry him along, his search usually ended up at Thorne's bedroom door. Knocking loudly brought no response, but the scent of the drug was so strong it tickled his nose.
Far from Neminora's filtering clouds, the daylight was impossible to endure, keeping Loki penned up in a shuttered room from dawn until sunset. His request to be moved below ground was politely but firmly turned down.
"There isn't room," said the duke. "Few of the rooms down there are set up for use. I'm very sorry, Your Highness. Does light get into your guest chamber? If so, I'll see that the shutters are fixed straightaway."
It didn't. The shutters were perfectly adequate. Short of calling Thorne a liar, there was little Loki could do but make the best of it. But even that was difficult.
After Thorne's outrageous suggestion, Loki avoided the one amusement that might have made the visit bearable: Sid. He deliberately kept the slave at arm's length. The very suggestion he had gone into rhora with the Man was appalling!
In spite of his best intentions, alas, his thoughts circled obsessively around the wild human. When Loki sought his bed each morning, he could not keep images of Sid's slender form out of his head. Dreams haunted his sleep. When he woke, it was to find himself painfully aroused.
Sid, for his part, seemed only too happy to stay out of Loki's sight. The prince saw him now and then slipping away from a room he walked into, obediently playing least-in-sight.
Humans could not be rhorani; that fact had been scientifically established early in Gaia's colonization. In those days, there had been a great deal of controversy over using the humans as cattle, given their startling resemblance to the ilthi. It was their intolerance of the hormone, among other things, that had eventually led the scholars to declare them animals. Still, Loki found his feelings regarding Sid troubling.
It was, in part, to banish thoughts of the Man, that Loki ended up on the south tower roof, determined to repair the damaged skip. Misha brought him a box filled with tools used to keep the skid running. Along with Loki's ilthiyan strength, they were adequate to the job.
Loki was hard at work on the skip's transmission one evening when he saw the skid lift off the west tower, two figures aboard. One of them was Thorne. It quickly dropped from sight. Inevitably, his thoughts went to Sid. Except for an occasional glimpse, he'd had no contact with the youth. Catching himself, Loki cursed under his breath and returned his attention to the machine in front of him. It had been a long time since his courses in solar mechanics; he needed his concentration.
Away from the Reifu Mountains, where anamoline deposits were few and far between, magna engines functioned well enough and the iliya used them freely. Get too close to the element, however, and even they sputtered into uselessness.
Loki had the skip's transmission out and in pieces on the rooftop when his body tingled. Involuntarily, he looked around. At once, a slight figure ducked behind a chimney.
"Sid!"
After a moment, the Man stepped out into the open. A shiver ran through Loki. Without meaning to, he beckoned, forgetting all about the skip. Eyes downcast, Sid came forward. From the looks of it, he was still dependent upon Misha's wardrobe, wearing a pair of the taller human's dark blue hose, wrinkled around the ankles, and a short red tunic with blue and white embroidery. His eyes went to the skip, then nervously back to Loki.
Loki was abruptly and uncomfortably aware of how his body reacted. He let nothing of it show in his face, however. Instead, he turned back to the vehicle. "Would you like to help?" he asked.
"I don't know anything about machines."
"I could teach you."
Silence.
"Of course, it's forbidden. Forget I mentioned it."
"N-no!"
Startled, Loki looked around. Sid was chewing on his lower lip. Did he know how damned adorable he looked when he did that?
"It doesn't matter anymore," Sid said finally, tossing his head. Dark hair flew at the vehemence in the movement. "Show me!"
Loki chuckled, earning a defiant glower, but he moved over. Sid squatted beside him, looking at the transmission's various components curiously. To keep his mind off the boy's tantalizing presence, Loki pointed out each piece, instructing the Man in its name and function. Sid, frowning in concentration, repeated everything he said. Under Loki's careful eye, he helped clean and lubricate them, asking occasional questions.
After awhile, Loki's body settled down. Having an assistant made the job easier and Sid was quick to learn. By midnight, the transmission was reassembled and ready to be put back into the skip. This was not as easy as it looked and they both ended up underneath the vehicle, struggling and cursing to move the transmission into position. With Loki holding it in place, Sid got the bolts and braces fastened. When they emerged from the skip's underside, both were flushed with triumph.
"Will it work now?" Sid asked, looking at the battered machine.
"Not yet. There's still the steering mechanism to go."
"Oh." Sid yawned. There was a smudge of grease on his nose. Loki resisted the impulse to wipe it off with the tip of his finger.
"Sleepy already? It's only midnight."
Sid's gaze dropped. "I -- I've been stayin' up during the day," he admitted, adding defiantly, "You told me you didn't want me around!"
"You're still my slave," retorted Loki. "Whether I want you around or not, I expect you to be ready and alert if you're summoned."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Loki caught himself, aghast at how quickly his temper had slipped. "Never mind. I'm done with this for the night. We're both filthy. Come with me."
Looking downcast, Sid trailed after him, going downstairs into the palace.
And there were Nine who stood with Jessahana against the hand of Corruption. They resisted the lure of Corruption and sought another way. To reward their loyalty and piety, Gaia named them Blessed and made them her Knights. To them, she gave them the power of fire with which to protect Her and all that She created.
.... from A History of Gaia, Volume 1, Part 1
Sid had to trot to keep up with the ilthiya's long-legged stride. He followed Prince Loki through the palace to one of several bath chambers. According to Misha, old Gaian rituals had included elaborate bathing. The room Prince Loki chose was open to the night, with a pool in the center. Water fell into it from the roof, cool and sparkling, while jets of hot water came up from below. The combination of the two made the pool warm, but not unpleasantly so.
As soon as he realized where they were going, Sid's heart started to thump. He stumbled, slowing down when the prince began to undress, tossing his clothing carelessly over a white marble bench. The warm night breeze rustled the vines clinging to the walls.
Prince Loki pulled the gold clasp out of his hair, shaking it back. Then, without looking around, he descended the shallow steps into the water. Disappearing beneath the surface for a moment, he reappeared several feet away.
"Well?" he said impatiently. "Come in, and bring some soap."
Swallowing hard, Sid squirmed out of his clothes. Face hot, he fumbled through the collection of bottles and jars along the pool's edge. The prince, looking amused, settled back against the side, arms outstretched along it, and watched him.
"Clean yourself," he said, "then you can attend to me."
Sid did what he could, keeping as much of him under the water as safely possible. He scrubbed hastily, a wary eye on his master, but Loki made no move in his direction, only leaned his head back and closed his eyes, relaxing in the warmth.
Finally, so clean his skin hurt, Sid knew he dared not wait any longer. Sure enough, the silvery eyes opened. The ilthiya tilted his head, one eyebrow lifting. Sid swam to him. Prince Loki rose, water sloughing off his pale torso. Calmly, he held out his hands.
Sid poured soap into his palm. Taking the prince's hands in his, he massaged soap into them, working the grease out. Prince Loki's fingers were long and tapered, beautiful hands, half again as big as his. He remembered how they felt on his skin and was grateful for the soapy water that hid his traitorous body's response.
The prince reached out with his clean hands and caught Sid's face, turning it up. Without even thinking about it, Sid's lips parted and he closed his eyes. There was a breath of surprised laughter.
"You missed a spot," said the ilthiya, and rubbed at the side of Sid's nose, then let him go.
Sid flushed from head to toe in embarrassment. He'd been certain Loki was going to kiss him. Even more mortifying was his faint sense of disappointment. At Loki's smiling order, he turned and splashed back across the pool to fetch shampoo. When he looked around again, Loki was under the waterfall, letting it pour around him.
Washing the ilthiya's hair was another unexpectedly disconcerting process. Long, silky, it seemed remarkably impervious to tangling. He'd been dreading the prospect of combing it out afterwards, but once clean and rinsed, the comb went through its length easily.
His own hair, much coarser, tangled up at once.
"What a mess!" The ilthiya, after watching his attempts to restore order to it, laughed and swam to the edge of the pool, returning with another bottle. "Come here."
Sid stood obediently, scrunching shut his eyes when Prince Loki poured some creamy liquid onto his head and began to work it in. The feel of Loki's fingers massaging his scalp felt unexpectedly good. All too soon, the prince was finished, thrusting Sid under the falling water to rinse the lotion away. Removing the comb from Sid's fingers, the prince pulled it through his hair. Amazingly, it glided through as easily as it had through Loki's
"Such an unusual color," marveled the ilthiya softly. "Like a falling leaf in autumn."
He wound a wet tendril around his finger. Then he threw the comb across the water to land on the tile. Setting his hands on Sid's bare shoulders, he turned the youth around. Tilting his chin up, Loki smiled down at him, bemused.
The flush of heat returned full force. Loki's tongue brushed over Sid's lips, gentle as a butterfly's wing, before slipping into his mouth. Sid met the invasion eagerly, his entire body leaping in response. When the prince drew away, it was only to pull Sid's head back, to kiss the curve of his jaw, his ear, his throat, his shoulder. Each caress lifted gooseflesh on Sid's wet skin. He was vividly, vibrantly aware of the ilthiya's erection pushing against his belly.
"This is a surprise," whispered Loki, his mouth against Sid's ear, breath making Sid squirm. "And a pleasant one."
His hands slid over wet skin to rub against Sid's nipples. Heat flashed straight through Sid, pooling in his groin. Deep in his heart, a small, angry voice lashed out, forbidding him to respond, shrieking at him to stop. But Sid could no more heed it than he could stop his own heart from beating. When Loki bent and took a nipple in his mouth, Sid heard himself whimper, lifting his hands to tangle in the ilthiya's hair.
Tongue and teeth against the sensitive flesh pulled sensations from Sid he had never imagined possible. The urgency in his belly grew as the ilthiya sucked and nipped. When Loki finally released him, Sid's nipples were hard and aching. With a dreamy smile, the ilthiya cupped his hand around the back of Sid's head and guided the youth toward his own chest.
Sid needed no urging to kiss the caramel buds, to suck first one, then the other, into his mouth. The feeling of the flesh hardening against his tongue, the ilthiya's gasp of pleasure, were almost as erotic as the sensation of Loki's tongue had been. The prince's fingers tightened in his hair.
"Yes," he whispered. "Very good!" Then: "Ah!"
Without warning, he lifted Sid into his arms and carried him to the side of the pool. He bent Sid over it. "Hold on," he whispered.
Closing his eyes, Sid caught hold of the tiled edge. He shivered in anticipation. Loki's hand settled on his backside. "Open yourself for me," he ordered softly.
Sid spread his legs wide, letting the water buoy him. He felt his buttocks stretched apart. A moment later, the ilthiya's long finger slid into him, slick with something cool. Slowly, leisurely, the prince prodded and stretched him, finding the spot deep inside that soon had Sid squirming and moaning.
Another finger. The unsettling combination of pain and pleasure made him grip the edge of the pool until his fingers ached. Stretched and oiled, he waited in an agony of need for Loki to take him. There was a brief, burning sensation, then the prince pushed past the tight ring of muscle and deep inside. Sid cried out, body arching as he was impaled on the thick, long column of flesh.
Waves splashed over the edge of the pool as the ilthiya took his pleasure. Sid gasped with each deep, smooth thrust. The little voice was gone. Loki's hand wrapped around Sid's cock, squeezing, his fingers doing things that only added to the urgency consuming the helpless youth. Sid heard himself sobbing, begging the prince to go harder and faster. Loki obliged, hurtling Sid past any hope of control.
Climax came in a blaze of white light and ecstasy. It seemed to go on forever, Sid's cock jerking convulsively in Loki's grip. He went limp, strength flowing out of him as fast as his seed. Once again, he felt himself lifted in the ilthiya's arms. His head fell back and the room tilted wildly. They were leaving the pool. Prince Loki looked down at him, an odd expression on his handsome face. Sid smiled, closing his eyes. He was sleepy and the ilthiya's arms were warm.
He didn't remember being tucked into bed.
The skip was functional again. Loki and Sid regarded it with satisfaction. It wasn't much on aesthetics, but it would run.
"Shall we take it for a spin?" Loki asked his assistant.
Sid nodded eagerly.
No wonder the tech was slipping away from the ilthi, thought Loki wryly, when humans could shove aside generations of prejudice so easily.
"Will it carry both of us?"
"Of course. You hardly weigh a thing."
They had been at Thorne House for nearly nine days now. In that time, Loki continued to see very little of his host. On the few occasions when they did meet, he tried to find out what "project" of Thorne's was delaying them, but could get little of coherence out of the man. There were vague references to "observational studies," to "interesting structures" and "precise measurements," but studies of what? What sort of structures? When the prince tried to narrow Thorne down on these issues, the duke fell to mumbling and staring off into space.
Misha wasn't much help. He was usually in the duke's company. Otherwise, he seemed to be avoiding both Loki and Sid. Sid didn't appear bothered by this; "He's weird," was the human's offhand declaration. "And he dresses funny."
"Where will we go?" asked Sid.
From the rooftop of the south tower, they could see the valley and the Reifu Mountains stretching to the horizon.
"Let's see where the servants live."
Loki was very curious about the humans who maintained the palace during the day. Sid's descriptions of them notwithstanding, Loki wondered at men who could live peaceably with ilthi. Certainly the humans dwelling in the border towns did so, but only because they were constantly under the threat of the ilthi's superior technology.
The skip, after a shaky take-off, hummed out over the valley. Its engine was noisier than he liked, but it maintained altitude without difficulty. Loki wouldn't trust the steering mechanism to execute tight maneuvers, but it performed well enough to avoid the worst of the updrafts.
As they drew closer to the valley floor, he began to see openings among the thick press of trees. Setting his sights on one of them, he guided their battered vehicle down into it. Landing with a jarring thud, he switched off the engine. Abruptly, a deep quiet fell around them.
"Where are the people?" asked Sid finally.
Loki had no answer for him. In all directions were only trees. The distant canopy was so thick it kept undergrowth to a minimum. Even without moonlight, he could see a fair distance through the tall, straight trunks, but there was nothing that looked remotely like human habitation: no lights, no manmade structures of any sort.
Sid, of course, had no night vision to speak of, standing next to the skip and staring blindly about. Having anticipated this, Loki dug into the small flyer's cargo well, bringing out a lantern. He lit it and handed it to Sid, who seemed surprised. Muttering his thanks, the Man took it. The light helped Loki, too.
"There," he said, noticing a path in the deep carpet of pine needles.
With Sid holding the lantern aloft, they started along it. The silence continued, as if the forest held its breath until they'd passed. Unease crawled up Loki's spine, but although he kept a sharp watch around them, he saw or heard nothing.
His slave didn't seem as affected by the forest's atmosphere. As Loki's steps slowed, Sid's quickened. He moved ahead, gaze on the path in front of him. On the top of a small rise, he suddenly halted, his exclamation sounding abnormally loud in the quiet. "Prince Loki!"
Loki quickened his pace, catching up with Sid. They stood on the lip of a deep, bowl-shaped depression.
"It's a crater." Loki's gaze traveled around the rim. "And a big one."
It was difficult to make out details at the bottom, suggesting the crater was deep. In the exact center was a small mound and on the mound was some sort of stone structure. It wasn't very large. A monument, perhaps?
"Who made it?"
"Not who - what. A meteor, probably."
"What's a meteor?"
The depth of Gaian ignorance never failed to astonish Loki. He explained meteors and asteroids to the Man, who looked up at the sky in alarm.
"They're rare," Loki reassured him. "Or we'd see a lot more of these everywhere."
"It's Gaia's dense atmosphere," came a voice behind them.
Starting, Loki spun around. Thorne, with a scowling Misha at his side, beamed at them from the edge of the woods. He was dressed in ordinary human clothes, dark hose and tunic, with loose, knee-high boots.
"If you wanted a tour of the countryside, you should have said so," he continued, coming down to stand with them. "I'm sure Misha would have been delighted to show you around."
"Where are the humans?" Sid piped up. "I thought they lived nearby."
"They do." Thorne smiled kindly at him. "You've walked right through their midst, I believe. Or, rather, beneath them."
Loki couldn't help a sharp glance overhead.
Thorne laughed. "Not right here," he said. "The village is closer to the spot you left the skip. Their headman contacted me when they realized strangers were in the forest."
"They live in the trees?" Sid was awed and intrigued. "Can we see?"
"I'm afraid not." Thorne was apologetic. "It's part of our agreement, you see. Not only do I keep out human bandits, other ilthi are forbidden as well. The human's acceptance of me, alas, does not extend to the rest of my race."
"What a shame," said Loki. "And I was thinking your villagers could be a model of human-ilthi coexistence."
"Perhaps some day," said Thorne. He lay a hand briefly on Misha's shoulder. "In the meantime, I will have to ask you both to return to Thorne House. This is a holy site for them."
"The crater?"
"Indeed. Touched by the Hand of Gaia. Don't you recognize Her fingerprint?"
"And if I prefer to stay out a while longer?" Loki asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Thorne's expression didn't change, but suddenly, from the darkness around them, came a rustle and the clatter of steel. Loki's eyes narrowed, his night vision snapping into sharp focus. Figures stood just inside the trees. His lamplight caught a wink of metal here and there, but it was impossible to tell how many men were watching.
"Let's go back," Thorne said gently. "My work is done for the time being. If you're ready, I would like to leave for Neminora tomorrow. Perhaps we can discuss the trip?"
Loki nodded, skin prickling. Accompanied by Thorne and his silent human, they returned to the skip.
If anyone had envisioned an orderly departure from Thorne House, he was doomed to disappointment. The night arrived and the normally quiet palace was overwhelmed in a confusion of packing, unpacking, and re-packing. For several hours, the duke could not be found at all. Finally, however, with the skid fueled up and an astonishing number of trunks and valises piled upon it, Lord Thorne reappeared and declared himself ready to depart.
It lacked but an hour until dawn, which meant they would be forced to stop and camp for the day. Acutely aware Prince Loki was holding onto his temper with an effort, Sid kept quiet and as inconspicuous as possible.
At the prince's insistence, they made their dawn stop at the outpost where the ilthiya had been attacked. Of the shelter, only lumps of flexite and masonry remained. The crawler and ruined skips were still there, their hulks already rusting and entwined by vines and weeds. Prince Loki spent some time poking around the former. Its boot was wide open and contents strewn about, moldering into the earth. What he thought about it, however, Sid didn't learn, for the ilthiya remained glumly silent.
Loki's mood did not improve much the next evening when they emerged from their tents to find it raining, nor when they finally arrived at the ilthiyan border post the next dawn. Waiting for them in the streaming rain was a contingent of soldiers commanded by a large, handsome ilthiya wearing an assortment of medals and gold braid.
"What are you doing here, Adrian?" the prince demanded, alighting from the skid. "Father growing impatient?"
"What do you think?" retorted the officer insolently. "What should have been a mission of several days has drawn out into over a week."
"The duke no longer keeps anything but the most rudimentary tech, which is why you've heard nothing from me. Since you're here," added Loki, "I'll turn him over to you, dear general. I'm wet, tired and need a drink."
He beckoned to Sid and went straight to their former rooms. They were greeted by a soldier on the front step, sheltered by the overhang. The soldier informed them these were the general's quarters.
Prince Loki pithily disabused him of any such notion, demanding the general's belongings be removed at once. The soldier, not daring to object, but clearly uneasy about his superior's reaction, went off with the promise to fetch the general immediately.
"Throw this stuff out," Loki ordered Sid, watching the stiff-backed soldier disappear into the rain. "Bastard," he added under his breath, and stomped inside.
Sid dragged a trunk and several valises out onto the stoop, along with an assortment of clothing, books and maps. He had just brought out the last valise when he saw the general hurrying toward them.
"Stop that!" roared the officer, seeing his things quickly soaked by the rain.
Sid dropped the valise and retreated into the room. He closed the door, looking around for the prince. Loki was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of the shower was evidence he'd not gone far.
The general slammed into the room and stood glaring around. Sid, his heart in his mouth, prudently moved as far from the angry ilthiya as he could.
"Spoiled brat," snarled the general, scowling toward the bathroom. "I've a mind to throw his things out!"
He didn't however, only turned on his heel and strode out again. Peeking through the window, Sid watched as several more soldiers were summoned and carried off the general's belongings.
The bathroom door opened. "Is he gone?"
Sid nodded. The prince smiled mischievously, before vanishing again. Soon thereafter, he reappeared, towel around his narrow hips, hair wet and dripping down his back and chest.
"Your turn," he announced.
When Sid finished bathing, he returned to a deserted bedchamber. With nothing else to do, he lay down on the bed, intending to doze. A soft knock at the door brought him up again.
It was Misha. The dark-haired youth scurried in out of the rain.
"Lord Gabriel is having dinner with the other ilthi. I guess we're not invited."
He moved restlessly around the room. "I suppose I should get used to it," he went on. "Lord Gabriel told me things would be very different once we got to Neminora."
"He's probably right." Sid sat back down on the bed, watching the other Man pace. "But maybe the duke won't have to stay long."
"I hope not!" The normally self-possessed youth looked decidedly unhappy. "I hear the ilthi there kill humans at the merest whim."
Sid remembered the hunt. "Yes," he said, "but you belong to the duke, so no one will touch you without his permission."
For some reason, this didn't seem to put Misha at ease. He scowled more fiercely.
"Will I have to bow down before the others?"
"Yes."
Misha looked angrier still.
"Sit down," advised Sid. "You'll wear yourself out."
Misha glowered at him a moment, then he sighed and flopped down beside Sid. "Tell me more about Neminora," he said finally.
Sid shrugged. "There's a lot of tech," he said. "And it's really old. A lot of it is underground. Most of the vampires have left to live on the mainland, but their king still lives there."
"Do they all think humans are animals?"
"Mostly, yes."
"Lord Gabriel says it's always cloudy and rains a lot."
Sid nodded. Misha looked gloomy.
"I like the sun," he said in a low voice. Abruptly, he rose and, without a backward look, was gone.
Sid didn't know when Loki returned. He fell asleep on the bed, not waking again until sunset. He found the prince sleeping heavily beside him. Loki didn't stir when Sid got up and tiptoed into the bathroom. It wasn't until someone knocked on the door that the ilthiya roused, yawning.
"Answer it," he growled, burrowing further under the blankets. Sid obeyed, finding the general right outside, the same irritated look on his face.
"Your Highness, it's time to go," he called from the doorway. "Your father awaits."
Loki's reply was unintelligible, muffled as it was beneath the blankets, but the general's scowl deepened. "Shall I come in and help you dress, my lord?"
A curse exploded from the bed. Loki sat up straight, black hair falling around his shoulders, naked to the waist. Sid dragged his eyes away from the sight in time to see the general's expression. His heart leapt at what he saw there.
The general muttered something and turned away, slamming the door behind him. Loki stared blankly after him then sighed, falling back onto his pillow. "Fetch my clothes," he said, looking up into the ceiling.
It had stopped raining sometime during the day. The night was cool and smelled of wet greenery as Sid followed Loki to the tarmac, dragging their luggage. Soldiers stood at attention by the transport, saluting smartly as the prince ducked inside. While Sid stowed their bags in the rear, the prince settled into a seat and leaned his head back. He didn't look around when Sid returned.
A few minutes later, the duke arrived, Misha trailing silently, pale, behind him. The Man didn't look in their direction, but took his seat mutely beside Thorne. Last to arrive was the general, who found his seat at the very back of the transport.
Once in the air, Sid forgot about the tension bristling around him. He sat up straight, looking out through the windows at the black bulk of Gaia beneath them. As they approached ilthiyan territory, the scattering of twinkling lights below grew more numerous and closer together. The transport banked and headed down. Sid looked curiously at Loki.
The ilthiya had given every appearance of sleeping since they'd taken off, but he roused himself now as the transport changed altitude and stretched. "Ah," he noted. "We're here already."
They came down fast across a large town crowding the eastern bank of a river. The water reflected lights shining from its windows and street-lamps. On the west bank it was mostly dark with only a handful of lights here and there. Sid looked blankly at the prince.
"You don't recognize it?" asked Loki.
Sid shook his head. The closer they got, the larger the city seemed.
"Armistice," said the prince. "City of the future."
Reifu, Jeneka, Santa Maru
Elizabeth, Washington, General Tzu
Out from the wilderness, into the dark
Seeds of the alter-world making their mark
Jeneka, Reifu, Sanay Maru
Sanderson, Washington, General Tzu
Run with the solar winds, wander afar
Run from the monsters who hide in the stars
Jeneka, Reifu, Sanay Maru
Sanderson, Washington, General Tzu
Ilthiya wandering, always alone
Running on hope all the way home.
....author unknown, date unknown
Armistice. Sin City.
Sid pressed his face to the carriage window, drinking in the sights of this most notorious of towns.
They had crossed the river a few minutes ago, leaving the mostly-empty ilthiyan side behind. No sooner had they rattled off the bridge then their horse-drawn coach plunged into a labyrinth of narrow, cobbled lanes crowded by buildings of all shapes and sizes. Street-lamps lit the night. Windows glowed yellow and taverns were everywhere, spilling their noise and light out into the streets.
Misha slumped in the seat opposite Sid, showing no interest in what lay outside their coach. He'd been dragged from the transport, struggling and protesting, by the intimidating General Dare. Since then, he'd been silent.
"This is amazing," Sid said finally. "Aren't you interested?"
"Do you know where they're taking us?" asked Misha tightly.
Sid didn't.
"A brothel!"
Shocked, Sid sat back. "W-why?"
"Because we're rhorani," replied Misha. "Lord Gabriel said we would be in danger. Your prince says we will be safe there! I don't want to be safe! I want to be with Lord Gabriel!"
"We're going to be whores?" Cold ran through Sid.
"Of course not! Lord Gabriel would never force me to do such a loathsome thing!"
Sid hoped it was true, although he didn't have the same expectation of Prince Loki's regard. He fell silent, returning to the window. After a moment, Misha abandoned his sulking and did the same.
Sid had never visited the big border cities like Armistice. Further east, where he'd spent most of his days, towns close to ilthiyan land were almost indistinguishable from any other Gaian settlement. Ilthiyan tech had infiltrated, but only in small ways, and was kept hidden. Here, many of the windows they passed glowed openly with the steady, white light of ilthiyan lamps. The small, horseless carriages of the ilthi were drawn up along the curb, evidence that they came and went freely here.
The sidewalks, too, were crowded, although it was well past nine o'clock, the mandated hour of Curfew, when good citizens were expected to be within doors and preparing for a healthful night's sleep. Sid couldn't help noticing the occasional ilthiya in the crowd, usually a head taller than the humans around him.
"Humans and ilthi live together here, too," said Misha, surprised.
"Yes, but all these people are Excommunicate. It's a crime to live and work in these towns, to deal peacefully with the ilthi and use their tech."
"But isn't that a Home?" Misha pointed to a steepled building wedged between two large tenements.
"It's not recognized by Gaiastar."
"What difference does it make?"
"In Gaiastar are the Gold Sages, given authority by Jessehana herself."
"So? They still worship the Great Sage here, don't they? Even we do."
"It -- it's just not the same," replied Sid, but his answer sounded weak, even to himself.
Fortunately, Misha chose not to pursue it, but lapsed back into silence as they wound deeper into the town.
After several more minutes, the carriage turned onto a road running alongside the river. The surrounding buildings became less ramshackle and many of them were hidden behind high walls. The carriage slowed and stopped before one of them. Behind a pair of tall, intricately wrought iron gates, Sid glimpsed trees and shrubbery, but little else.
One of the guards approached their coach and had a word with the driver. Almost at once, he turned back to help his partner open the gates. The carriage rolled through.
A short distance along the drive, the trees and bushes gave way to a magnificent mansion. Fronted by velvet lawn, it was backed by the river. The coach went around the house and onto a broad, cobbled courtyard. It pulled up in front of an innocuous door and stopped. A very large man came out and stood while the driver jumped down from his perch and ran to open the carriage door.
Misha was the first out, jumping down onto the drive, his head up, shoulders back, defiance in every line of his body. Sid, with an apprehensive look at the stranger's bulging muscles, followed the other Man from the coach.
The giant grunted at them, jerking his head toward the open door of the house. Sid kept close to Misha, walking past the stranger and into a narrow corridor. The space was taken up by stacks of crates and bulging sacks of flour, sugar and other foodstuffs. There was a mouth-watering fragrance of new-baked bread and, in the distance, the sound of clattering pans and dishes and voices calling to one another.
"This way," the man said, pointing toward a door at the far end of the corridor.
With little choice, Sid and Misha did as they were told. The door opened onto a gloomy, narrow staircase. With the man right behind them, they climbed to the fourth floor. A corridor lay before them, bare of any furnishings with three doors, two on either side and one at the end. The guard stopped before one of the former, producing a key. The door opened into a room of surprising size and luxury.
"In," he said to Misha.
"What about Sid?"
"He comes with me. Orders of His Highness."
Sid's heart beat faster. The guard closed the door firmly in Misha's face and locked it. "Come," he ordered.
They went back down the stairs, past the kitchens and came out into a hallway much different from the one above, richly carpeted with silk-lined walls and paintings in heavy, ornate frames. The subject of the paintings made Sid's eyes widen and face heat.
Doors opened into exquisitely furnished parlors on either side, most occupied by richly dressed men and a scattering of women. The rooms buzzed with laughter, conversation and the clinking of glasses. Scantily clad young men wearing make-up and tiny, form-fitting briefs hurried in and out with trays bearing wine or food. Others, dressed in filmy robes which did little to hide their naked bodies, wandered from room to room, often on the arms of one of the richly dressed gentlemen. Sid himself was the recipient of assessing looks as he hurried along after his escort.
They passed through a vaulted entrance hall dominated by another staircase, this one broad and carpeted, with an elaborately carved balustrade and lit by a crystal chandelier. Sid's escort went straight on toward an archway on the other side. The two men standing guard on either side nodded as they passed into yet another richly-appointed hallway.
Unlike the previous corridor, this one was quiet and deserted. They walked the length of it to a set of magnificent double doors at the very end.
"These are Lord Jared's rooms," the guide informed Sid. He knocked. After a moment, one of the doors opened slightly and a pair of blue eyes, heavily fringed with black lashes, peered out.
"Oh," said the youth, opening the door wider. "It's you, Tom."
"Aye. I've brought Prince Loki's boy."
The door opened all the way. The pale-haired human looked Sid up and down with disbelief. He stepped aside as the guard gave Sid a shove into the room.
"Who is it?" The voice came from an adjacent room.
The youth vanished into it then returned quickly, bowing low to big man.
"My master thanks you and says you may go," he said.
The big human nodded and strode out, shutting the door carefully behind him.
The slave was very pretty, indeed. Perhaps not so much as Misha, but still enough to make Sid feel clumsy and loutish in comparison. His skin was pale and soft-looking; his hair blond and falling in soft waves over his shoulders. He wore a jeweled collar and belt, but nothing else.
His body was completely hairless except for his shining gold mane. His large sex was beautifully shaped.
Wishing the floor would open up and swallow him, Sid followed the boy into the next room.
At once, the youth dropped to his knees, face to the floor, arms outstretched and crossed at the wrists. Some devil of defiance kept Sid on his feet, staring at the man reclining on the sofa before them.
An ilthiya! Hair bound back in a dark, shining tail, a jeweled circlet of gold filagree and gems around his brow, the vampire looked back at him.
"So, you're Loki's new toy," said the man finally. "I see my brother was right. You lack any sort of proper training for the role."
"Who are you?" Sid blurted out.
The ilthiya sighed. Reaching over to a small table beside the sofa, he picked up a bell and rang it. Footsteps approached from behind. Sid looked quickly around and saw another very large Man, his skin oiled until it gleamed, showing off his muscles. He wore wide leather bracelets and a pair of tight-fitting leather breeches. From his studded belt hung a variety of unpleasant-looking objects.
"We shall start right away," said the elegant vampire. "Kane, this is Sid. He doesn't understand the proper behavior of a pleasure slave. The prince has asked that he be trained."
The huge Man nodded and reached out for Sid, who lightly danced aside. Kane frowned and, moving faster than Sid would have imagined for someone of his size, grabbed him by the arm.
"Hey!" Sid tried to pull away, panic rising. "Let me go!"
The response was instant; a hard, back-handed blow across his face. His clothing was ripped away and his arms seized and yanked back. Gasping, he stared with wide eyes at the vampire.
"I am Master of this establishment," said the vampire. "You are a slave and exist only to pleasure your lord -- something I hear you do with no skill at all."
The tight grip on his biceps hurt. Sid glanced down at the pretty slave, still prostrate on the floor.
"I have been charged with seeing you receive at least a modicum of training," continued the ilthiya. "We will start by demonstrating the consequences of disobedience and disrespect."
Sid was thrown to the floor. Before he could get up, a foot was planted firmly on his back. He heard an ominous click. A sharp, stinging blow to his buttocks made him yelp. Another and another followed in rapid succession and the stinging became burning. He cried out, but the blows neither slowed nor ceased. He tried frantically to get away, but the weight on his back held him immobile, helpless to avoid the lashing. Soon he was sobbing for mercy.
The beating seemed to go on forever. He lost track of everything except the pain. When it finally stopped, he held his breath, not daring to move. Voices echoed over him. The weight against his back went away. In the next moment, those hard hands hauled him back to his feet and held him upright while he trembled uncontrollably, whimpering between his clenched teeth at the fire of his backside.
"The wages of disobedience are pain," said the ilthiya calmly. "Now -- do you see William?" He directed a glance toward the mostly-naked slave. "That is the proper position for presenting yourself to your masters."
Abruptly, Kane released Sid, whose knees buckled at once. With one tear-filled eye on the prostrate William, he struggled to mimic the position, pressing his wet face to the shining tiles, reaching out as far as he could and crossing his wrists.
A heavy sigh from overhead suggested he was not doing a good job.
"Terrible. Knees together, whore!"
Sid struggled to obey.
"Again."
The room tilted wildly as Sid was dragged upright once again.
"Now, do it with some grace."
He tried. He really tried, but his buttocks were aflame and every movement seemed to make it worse. Again he was dragged up and again ordered to kneel. He grew sick and dizzy, trying desperately to please the ilthiya.
"Enough!" the vampire said finally, in tones of deepest disgust. "We'll try again tomorrow night. At least I've a good idea of the work ahead of us. I hope his Highness doesn't expect miracles. Take him to the dormitory. The sight of him gives me indigestion!"
The familiar outlines of the Neminoran archipelago appeared on the horizon. Loki watched the islands grow larger as the transport began its descent. Since leaving Armistice, his mood had darkened. He told himself he was tired, but in truth, he already missed Sid.
He was being stupid. Sid was a slave, a Man he kept only for pleasure and amusement. The very notion of the Man as his rhorani grew more fantastical the closer he came to home. He began to regret agreeing to Thorne's suggestion to leave them in Armistice.
"No matter what you think, the boys are rhorani," the duke had said. "If my memory is correct, the idea of human rhora are not well received among our kind."
Unless you're the king.
But Angelus had never claimed rhorani status for Maura. Loki scowled out the window as wisps of cloud swept by and the steel gray of the ocean rose to meet them. How odd that he'd never considered the possibility before. There hadn't even been whispers about it. She was a slave. No one had ever looked past that, not even Katya.
Loki toyed briefly with the idea of confronting the king with his revelation, then quickly abandoned the idea as supremely foolish. His father's temper was uncertain at the best of times, especially where Loki was involved. Best to simply keep silent and watch the interaction between Angelus and Thorne. That was bound to be diverting.
All too soon, they reached Neminora. There were guards at the landing pad in dress uniform, standing stiffly at attention while wind and rain lashed the platform. Thorne regarded them with surprise. The soldiers fell into position around the transport's three passengers and escorted them across the causeway to the island.
The old castle seemed dingier and darker than Loki remembered. He'd been gone fewer than two weeks, but the duke's Thorne House loomed large in his memory. The airiness and open design of the ancient Home contrasted bleakly with Subterra's damp, underground rooms and corridors. Maybe it was time he joined the exodus to the mainland, Loki thought; maybe a nice palace on the coast, with big windows and skylights.
Fema was delighted to see his master and even more delighted to hear Sid was not with him.
"I left him with your brother in Armistice. He needs training."
"Quite right!" Fema nodded happily. "I hope your time in the frontier was not too onerous, Your Highness. It must be quite a relief to be back in civilization."
Loki smiled weakly.
The first of the expected visits from his siblings came immediately. Fema was still unpacking when a knock on the door announced Alric.
"You're back!" exclaimed the elder prince unnecessarily, striding into the room to pound Loki on the back. "So? How was it? Terribly primitive?"
"Terribly."
"What's he like -- the duke? In Decline?"
"Addicted to dreamflower, but otherwise, he seems in better health than Father."
"No! Dreamflower? Egads, Loki!" Alric paused, eyes narrowing. "You didn't join him, did you?"
"Of course not!"
"Good. Vile habit." Alric threw himself into a chair beside the fire. "So tell me all about it."
"There's not much to tell and besides, Father gets the first report."
"You'd tell Katya!"
"No, I wouldn't. By the way, have the repairs on her flyer been completed?"
"How should I know? Ask her. I'm sure she'll be along shortly."
"What's happened while I was out of communication?"
"Nothing much. Father sent Dare to Gaiastar, but I suppose you knew that."
"I knew he was going, but you know Adrian. Not a word. Have you heard what happened?"
Alric shrugged. "Just what you would expect. The Gold Sages' representative met him outside the city walls. Adrian gave them our information about the tech leakage. The humans gave no clue about what they intended to do about it, though. At least, none that I've heard."
"What about our own investigation? Has there been any indication of the tech moving past the border towns?"
"None. And even those towns where we hunted don't seem to be much contaminated. By the way -- why didn't you tell me what you'd found in that village?"
"Because I forgot about it in the excitement," lied Loki glibly.
Alric's expression said he didn't believe Loki, but any comment he might have made was forestalled by the arrival of their sister.
"Oh, I see you wasted no time," she greeted Alric. Then, turning a beaming smile on Loki, she planted a perfumed kiss on his cheek. "I've missed you, darling. Glad to be back?"
"Ecstatic."
Loki repeated everything he had discussed with Alric, adding an additional query about the state of her flyer.
"Actually, dear, it's still in maintenance."
"What?"
"Oh, don't look at me like that. It's fixed, but I'm having modifications made -- the same as your vehicle. You don't mind if I keep it an additional week or two, do you?"
"Damn it, Kat!"
"Just one more week, then. I promise! Or..." Her eyebrows lifted. "...are you in a hurry to go play with the humans?"
Loki had, indeed, hoped to get to Armistice soon, but he forced a bland smile. "Not particularly," he replied. "I've only just arrived, after all."
Fortunately, disliking each other's company, his brother and sister did not linger. Loki, relieved to see the back of them, called, "Fema!"
The servant appeared at once, bowing.
"Where's the duke?"
"I believe he's been settled in the Eastwinds apartment."
"I'm going to see how he's doing."
Fema bowed again. "As you wish, Your Highness."
The halls were thin of company due to the lateness of the hour. Loki was unsurprised to find a guard at Thorne's door. The soldier bowed deeply and knocked to announce him. His face was a study when he opened it at Thorne's call and a cloud of dreamflower smoke rolled out.
"My father hates that stuff," Loki said by way of greeting, walking into the suite's spacious parlor, waving his hand in front of his face.
"Angelus hates a great many things," replied Thorne, unperturbed. He held his pipe loosely in one long hand, smoke dribbling from between his lips. "I see Neminora hasn't changed. It's still the same drab, dank hole I remember."
Loki coughed.
"And the ventilation is not superior," Thorne added, exhaling another cloud. "When will I see your father?"
"When he's damn ready, I suppose." The heady atmosphere was making Loki dizzy. "Open a window, damn it!"
Blearily amused, Thorne watched Loki stride across the room and throw one open. A rush of rain and wind hit the prince, sending him back a step.
"Why haven't you left this place?" asked Thorne, watching him with half-closed eyes. "Most of our people had the good sense to relocate to the mainland once the humans were put down."
"I'm seriously considering it," muttered Loki.
"Is there something you wanted?"
"I came to see if you were comfortably situated."
"How kind of you." Thorne's lazy smile widened. "I do miss Misha, but I suppose you miss Sid, too."
"Don't be absurd." Reminded of Thorne's misapprehension concerning the slave, Loki swallowed a rush of irritation. "I came to warn you, as well, that you're likely to be invaded by my brother and sister. Angelus has not yet announced his decision for the heir, so they can be very annoying as they jostle for position."
"Ah," that would explain the Princess Katya's visit. I had wondered."
"Already?"
Thorne inclined his head with a droll expression. "She's lovely, your sister. Tell me, Loki, who do you favor as the future ruler?"
"Myself."
"I didn't realize you were in the running."
"I'm not," replied Loki. "Hence I may openly desire it."
Thorne chuckled. "You are in a unique position, are you not? A third child. It's been a very long time since someone like you existed. The royal line has traditionally been concerned about too much strife in the succession to breed more than two at a time."
"Father has always made it very clear I was a concession to his second wife, my mother."
For just an instant, a shadow crossed Thorne's face. "Emeraude," he said softly. "Charming woman."
"I never knew her."
"Of course not." Thorne's smile reappeared. "I've always admired ilthiyan women who chose to breed after the Creche went down, although, personally, if I intended to commit suicide, I would choose a method much less painful than childbirth."
"I've never understood it, either," replied Loki, "but I suppose it's fortunate such women feel that way or our numbers would be even smaller than they already are."
"It wasn't always that way." Thorne's expression grew dreamy. "The Creche produced us in great numbers."
"It doesn't work here."
"True. For the moment." He glanced toward the ceiling.
"For the moment?" Loki shook his head. "Have you some master plan to eliminate anamoline from Gaia?"
Thorne leaned over to refill his pipe. "Did I say that? Ah, well... He favored Loki with his usual vague smile. "You never know, do you?"
We who embrace the truth do so in repudiation of the false truths of our ancestors. That which is not of Gaia has no place in our hearts. Mindful always of the fate that brought the corrupt society of our forebears to its knees, we must be ever-vigilant, ever-faithful lest we, too, stray from the path of righteousness and are doomed.
...from Sermons of the Sages, Volume 1
"Higher! Lift it higher! Do you expect your master to reach for it?"
Sid swallowed a groan and straightened, holding the glass higher.
"And keep your head down!"
His knees hurt from being on them for most of the evening. His arms trembled under the strain of holding his arms up, of making sure wine didn't spill from the cup.
"Bend your wrists! Show at least a touch of grace, you pathetic creature! What the prince sees in you I cannot imagine!"
Sid's dearest wish was to throw the wine and goblet into Kane's sneering face, but he knew what that would get him. It was already impossible to sit down, thanks to the frequent strokes of the whip. Being forced to take the man's big cock up his ass didn't help much, either. Eyes burning, he held his position and prayed Kane found it acceptable.
"Prince Loki can afford the finest of pleasure slaves! Be sure you're at least as skilled as them before you serve him again."
The glass was taken from his hand. Sid folded at once into what had become a familiar position, face to the floor, arms outstretched. He was tired, deathly so. The past few nights had been filled with hours of repetitive training: kneel thus, stand so, move like this. Days found him cleaning the brothel's public rooms for the coming night's business.
The name of the house was The Iris Garden. Everything was in purples and gold. Exquisitely carved wood, silk wall-coverings and lush carpets were everywhere. The Garden was even more luxurious than the palace at Neminora and Sid, in spite of deeply resenting his new servitude, was impressed at the sparkle and shine of it all. Still, it didn't stop him from watching carefully for any chance to flee.
From his trainer's occasional comments, Sid came to understand that the Iris Garden was one of the most successful and prestigious establishments in Armistice.
"It is one of only four such pleasure houses run by an ilthiya," the trainer had told him with pride. "Of course no other can compete."
Sid had been afraid he would be expected to serve as a whore in the main rooms, but Kane had soon set his mind at ease.
"You belong to His Highness! No one will have you except me or anyone else specifically approved by the Master."
So far that was only Kane, who was clean and free of disease. But Kane availed himself of Sid's body frequently, not only during the nightly training sessions, but during the day, as well. He might appear suddenly while Sid was scrubbing the floor, for instance, forcing the young slave to stop and submit to whatever pleasure Kane demanded of him. In the training rooms, Kane was exacting and unrelenting. Sid's limbs trembled with fatigue at the end of the sessions and he was often in tears.
"That's enough for now," Kane said, setting the goblet aside. "You may return to your room."
Sid straightened, careful to be as graceful as possible. On his knees, he crossed the floor to Kane and bent once more, putting his lips to the man's bare feet. Fabric rustled above him. His heart sank, but he knew what was expected of him. He straightened again, coming face to face with the trainer's erect penis. Opening his mouth, he gagged as Kane pushed the heavy member in as far as it would go. The man's hand locked in his hair, tightening painfully.
Tears flooded Sid's eyes as he sucked and teased Kane with his tongue, struggling to overcome his impulse to choke as the soft head slammed again and again into the back of his throat. When the sudden gush of hot liquid flooded his mouth, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to Jessahana.
"Get some sleep," Kane told him breathlessly. "You'll need to be in the kitchens in four hours."
The Iris Garden's training rooms were at the back of the mansion, separated from the main house by eight small bedchambers where the slaves carried out their nightly duties. In the attic two stories above were the dormitories where the slaves slept during the day. Sid's pallet was among them, one of two long rows down the length of the low-ceilinged room. There were no windows and the doors were guarded constantly -- as he'd discovered his first night there.
He'd not seen Misha again. His one attempt to ask Kane had ended with him enduring the night with a ball gag in his mouth. The lucky bastard was tucked away in peace and luxury. Thorne, for all his foolishness, genuinely cared about his human. It was painfully obvious what Loki thought of his slave.
Sid went straight to his mat and threw himself down on it. While in the training rooms, he was naked, but for his domestic work he was given a pair of loose trousers. He pulled them on quickly, then lay down. Usually, he was so tired nothing could keep him awake, but tonight, precious sleep eluded him.
He wondered about the prince. Had Loki forgotten him? Sid told himself that he hoped so. By now, the tracing drug in his blood was surely gone; if he got away, Loki might think it too much bother to come after him.
In spite of his dogged determination not to care, Sid found himself missing the handsome ilthiya. Loki's moments of kindness loomed large and bright in his memory. Their nights spent repairing the skip together, the deft way the ilthiya coaxed pleasure from him, even when Sid was most determined not to succumb -- those memories lingered. The ilthiya was witty and charming and well-educated, all qualities Sid found difficult to resist, especially in retrospect.
In vain, he forced himself to remember the nightmare of his capture, the whipping after stealing the flyer. All of those terrible memories had faded. Just as he had with all the worst experiences of his outcast's life, he'd pushed them far to the back of his mind. Like his memories of Kip, moments of pleasure and happiness stood out, obscuring the misery around them.
"You're an incurable optimist," Kip had told him once. "Nothing keeps you down. I don't know if you're a fool or a sage."
A fool, thought Sid. Most assuredly, a fool!
Jess, but he missed Kip!
Sid finally slept, deep and dreamless. All too soon, a guard was standing over him, kicking him awake. "Up, dog! They're waitin' for you downstairs."
He nodded, stumbling to his feet while, all around him, pleasure slaves streamed into the attic, headed for their own mats and a day's precious sleep.
It was Sid's first day in the kitchens. He'd heard from some of the slaves that it was one of the better places to work. Kitchen slaves were well-fed and the cook was kind. Since most of the pleasure slaves were given only small amounts of food to keep them slender, he was looking forward to it.
The cook was a tall, spare man with a somber face that disguised a generous nature. Sid was welcomed with a small smile and a large meat bun. He was then directed to a corner of the room where a mountain of green beans awaited trimming. They were very fine beans, bright green, straight and fresh. Quite a few of them found their way into Sid's mouth as he snapped them.
There were only two other trainees currently in the Iris Garden, a pair of tow-headed twins who'd been kidnapped from a nearby town. They had genuine clan-marks on their wrists and woebegone expressions. They whispered to each other as they sat nearby, peeling vegetables while the cook and his three scullery slaves busily prepared breakfast for highest ranking of the human day crew.
This group came in as the sun slanted through windows fogged with steam: four guards, the stable-master and the four domestic overseers. They took their seats at a long wooden table near the door, yawning and taking cups of hot coffee from the kitchen slaves.
Sid worked methodically on his task, letting his mind wander. A familiar name made him focus abruptly on the breakfast table.
"...Thorne. I thought the king was the only Wanderer still alive."
"He was exiled a hundred years ago, wasn't he?" asked another guard.
"Aye. They say he and Angelus were lovers."
Sid's mouth sagged, hearing that.
There was laughter at the table. Sid realized he'd stopped working and quickly resumed.
"How do you know that?" One of the grooms asked.
"My cousin works security detail for Her Highness, Princess Katya." The guard shrugged and held out his cup to the kitchen slave hovering at his shoulder. "More coffee."
"I heard the duke wanted the ilthi to leave Gaia back in the early days of their invasion. That's why he was exiled."
There was a snort and scattered derisive laughter.
"How?" one asked. "There's a reason they're here in the first place, isn't there?"
"Hiding from their devils, the irthi. That's what I hear." This came from the stable-master, bolder than most about his feelings for their masters.
"Watch your tongue," the guard warned. "Besides, there's no such thing. That's what I've heard. It's a folk tale."
Sid's beans were finished, his basket filled. One of the kitchen slaves noticed him sitting there and ordered him to the big sinks where, as the guards finished their breakfast and filed out, he was given the task of washing and drying their dishes.
After that, there were more dishes, the large, tin bowls used by the ordinary domestics. They ate breakfast out in the hall, standing up; Sid heard their chatter above the clink of plates and pans, watching over his shoulder as the twins ran in and out, bringing the emptied bowls to Sid for washing.
He was just finishing up when he heard Kane's voice, jovially bidding the cook a good morning. Sid's gut tightened. He pulled the plug from the sink drain and began washing down the basin. Kane's hand came down heavily on his shoulder.
"Submit," the man said in a low voice.
Sid swallowed his instinctive reaction. Dropping his trousers, he bent forward, spreading his legs apart, clinging tightly to the edge of the sink.
"Hold yourself open," came the command.
From the corner of his eye, Sid saw the twins staring. They were likely next and their expression showed their dread. Sid bit his lip and reached awkwardly behind to pull his own buttocks apart. A rough finger jabbed deep into him, slick and cold.
Kane's penetration was swift and without gentleness. The force of it pushed Sid hard against the side of the sink. He gasped, fingers slipping. Fortunately, it was over quickly, a few hard thrusts and a grunt. Kane pulled out, sagging against the sink. Sid, acutely aware of being watched, wet a clean towel and cleaned the trainer off, then dropped to his knees to kiss the man's feet.
"Good boy," said Kane. "Now -- get back to work."
Loki dreamed about chasing Sid across a vast, fog-shrouded plain. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn't catch up. Always, the youth was far ahead of him, a slender, indistinct form in the mist. From time to time, Loki heard others around him moaning and wailing, but he never saw them. There was only Sid, dwindling rapidly in his vision.
He woke in a cold sweat, sitting straight up in his bed. The moaning and wailing continued and, after a moment, he realized it was the wind. Another of autumn's gales raged around Neminora.
There was no reason he couldn't go to Armistice. Fema would argue against it, probably, but Loki didn't care. Since delivering Thorne, he'd had little enough to do. At least with Sid around, it was rarely boring.
Loki had no idea what was happening between his father and the duke. Rumor claimed the two met every day for hours at a time, but he certainly wasn't included in their conferences. In fact, Angelus had not so much as acknowledged Loki's part in the duke's return. It was rather annoying.
Since their return, Loki had glimpsed Thorne now and then, but always in the company of either Katya or Alric. His attempts to extract information from either of them met with failure. As it turned out, they weren't invited to the meetings with the king, either. Indeed, they suspected Loki of knowing more than they did and tried frequently to worm his nonexistent secrets from him.
Not only was the situation tiresome, it was outright inconvenient, at least where Katya was concerned. He wanted his flyer back, but his initial attempt to reclaim it had met with failure. Arriving at the tech facility, he'd discovered his flyer in pieces. They were attempting to replicate his modifications in Katya's machine, they claimed. It would be a couple more weeks, if His Highness would be so kind as to wait.
His Highness was in no such mood. His Highness knew damn well why Katya was holding on to his flyer. Finally, tired of it all, he sought her out, finding her holding court in her lavish apartments on the other side of the island.
The suite of rooms was four times the size of his and filled with fine furniture and art. His sister sat before her fireplace, surrounded by her current favorites, while a small group of slaves sat behind a curtain nearby, playing soft music.
"Loki!" she cried, pretending to be overjoyed at the sight of him. Her sycophants beamed and murmured among themselves as he strolled across the shining floor to her.
"How nice to see you, darling."
"You're looking radiant, as always," he replied, bowing gracefully over her hand. "I've come for my flyer."
"Oh, dear!" She made a little moue and tried to appear contrite. "Dearest brother, could you not spare it another day or two? My engineers have not quite finished copying some of the modifications... The silly things are so slow!"
She tittered, looking around at her admirers who chuckled sympathetically. Loki gritted his teeth on a scathing reply. "I'm sorry, Kat, but I need it right away. Perhaps another time."
Katya murmured something to the handsome young ilthiya beside her and waved a hand. The others rose, bowing, and withdrew to the other side of the chamber, leaving him alone with his elder sister.
"I might consider postponing the upgrade if you could tell me the truth about the duke and Father."
"How many times do I have to say it? I'm not in on their little chats, damn it! I haven't seen the old man since I've returned and only spoken to Thorne once."
"Tsk. Loki!" She gave him a small, sad smile. "I should be so disappointed if you have been talking to Alric instead of me. I thought we had an understanding."
"I have no more to report to Alric than I have to you, damn it all, Kat! I want my flyer! Our agreement was you could use it until it was repaired. It's repaired! I don't appreciate your feeble attempt at extortion."
"Extortion?" she managed a credible look of surprise. "My dear brother! How unkind! It's no such thing!"
"It's not? My apologies." They gave each other false smiles. "Anyway, you and Alric are the ones spending time with the duke. Ask Thorne!"
"He won't say anything either," she replied, smile fading. "Most of the time, I'm not even sure he's entirely conscious! I can't imagine what he and father have to say to each other!"
"My flyer?" tried Loki again.
"Oh, very well." She gave a heavy sigh and beckoned to a lady-in-waiting standing out of earshot. Pulling the woman down, she spoke softly to her. The ilthiya bowed and hurried off.
"I did hear from His Grace that you and your party were attacked in Vestrax by humans with advanced weapons. That was an unwelcome surprise."
"You have no idea," said Loki with feeling. "I barely escaped with my life."
"Yes, I'm very curious to know what Father thinks about it. Bad enough that our domestic technologies are creeping into the border cities. If they start adopting our weapons tech, we may be in great danger."
The lady-in-waiting returned with his flyer's code-key.
"I've sent an order to the techs to have your ship ready by the end of the evening," said Katya. "But promise me, Loki. If you learn anything, you'll tell me right away?"
"Of course." He snatched the key, bared his teeth at her, and escaped, leaving her staring discontentedly after him.
Naturally, he found Alric in his rooms, waiting for him when he got back. The elder prince greeted him eagerly. "Ah! At last! I was ready to send Fema in search of you."
"What do you want?"
Alric's eyebrows lifted. "In a bad mood, are we?"
"Yes, we are. Our sister is extraordinarily annoying. I pray you've not come to annoy me further."
"Certainly not. I just need a tiny little favor from you, dear brother."
Loki snarled.
Alric's grin widened. He rose, throwing an arm around Loki's stiff shoulders. "I have something important I must attend to. If you would take charge of Thorne for a while, I would be most grateful."
"I've done my time with him."
"Yes, yes! I know that. And if this meeting of mine weren't incredibly important, I wouldn't impose, believe me!" Alric's voice became wheedling. "It's just for today, Loki! Surely you could manage that? It's not like you have anything important to do, anyway, is it?"
"As it happens, I have plans," replied Loki. "Take His Grace to the meeting. I'm sure he would find it fascinating."
"You don't even know what the meeting is!"
Loki shrugged.
Alric scowled. "Damn it, Loki! Be sensible! Make yourself useful for a change! Father won't live forever, you know."
"Is that a threat? Even Kat isn't so obvious!"
Alric recalled himself. "Of course not. I just think it would behoove you to be more accommodating, that's all."
"Not today, Alric. As I said, I have plans."
His brother swore and stomped off, slamming the door behind him. After a moment, Fema peered out from one of the inner rooms.
"He's gone," said Loki drily. "I want you to pack a valise. I'm going to Armistice for a few days."
Fema frowned, but knew better than to remind Loki Sid had been gone less than a week. "I'm sure Jared will be delighted to see you," he said instead and hurried away to do as he was told.
In short order, valise in hand, Loki set off for the tech facilities and his flyer. If necessary, he intended to park himself beside them until the techs had finished reassembling it. As Loki started down the stairs, however, he ran straight into Alric -- and Thorne! The duke beamed at him in delight. Alric's expression was tight and defiant.
"Here you are, Your Grace. I'll stop by after my meeting to pick you up again. Enjoy your visit!"
"Alric!"
But Alric, the craven bastard, simply bowed and quickly took himself off, leaving Loki staring after him, outraged. Thorne, the son of a bitch, seemed delighted.
"A boring young man," he confided, stepping forward and slipping an arm through Loki's. "I'm sure you'll be much more amusing."
It was common knowledge that Angelus wanted Thorne to remain in Neminora under his watchful eye. Loki, furious, found a smile. "What do you say to a visit to Armistice? I was planning to spend a few nights at the Iris Garden."
Thorne's eyes lit up! "Spectacular idea," he replied. "I miss Misha dreadfully and worse, I'm almost out of dreamweed. Surely I can find more in Armistice?"
"Oh, I'm certain of it," replied Loki with grim satisfaction.
Thorne nodded happily. Then his face fell. "But His Majesty was particular about my remaining in Neminora."
"Father said nothing about it to me," replied Loki. It was true, technically.
"Then by all means, let's be off!"
Loki waited impatiently in the guest suite for Thorne to pack a bag. The duke seemed almost boyishly delighted to be thwarting the king's orders, flitting from wardrobe to dresser in a flurry of indecision. Finally, he presented himself with his bag in hand.
"We have to rescue my flyer from the clutches of my sister," Loki told him. "Be ready to move quickly."
Thorne chuckled.
In the tech facility, there was a brief confrontation as the flyer techs attempted to block Loki from access to his vehicle. Fortunately, they had already replaced the critical parts of his machine. The threat of Katya's displeasure was more potent than of his own, but Loki was used to compensating for his lack of status by simple distracting them -- in this case with the smiling duke -- then slipping past and into the flyer before they could react. Thorne scampered after him, laughing.
"What fun!" he exclaimed. "You are quite the rebel, aren't you? I'm amazed Angelus puts up with you."
Loki smiled mirthlessly.
In front of the ship, techs jumped out of the way, realizing almost too late Loki had no intention of stopping for them. The flyer taxied past and shot out of the cavern's opening and into the rainy morning. There would likely be hell to pay, but he'd worry about that later. In the meantime, he was free, if only for a little while. Reveling in the familiar power under his hands, he turned the flyer and headed for the coast.
"The Executive Committe's tally of votes is strongly in favor of leaving this wretched place and making a new beginning. Most of those who voted against it do so out of fear. Their claims to the contrary, their excuses, ring hollow. We have a right to the earth. Strength and superiority are our claims to sovereignty. Let the beasts beware."
....Minutes, Reifu, 0955ITC/1528UTC
"Tonight, you work in the common rooms."
Sid rocked back on his heels, looking up at Kane. The trainer stood over him, arms folded over his bare chest, a speculative look on his broad features.
"You'll not be for hire, of course, just serve drinks and give the customer a grope or two. Consider this an examination, a test of your training."
"Yes, Master." Sid bowed forward, wrists crossing automatically.
"Do me proud," said Kane, "or you'll regret it."
Sid shivered, accepting the threat as the potent promise it was. He returned to scrubbing the floor of the marble entranceway and tried not to succumb to the anxiety knotting in his gut.
Serve in the common rooms? He remembered his brief glimpse of the slaves the night he and Misha had arrived, their skimpy clothing, their jewelry and cosmetics. Would he be expected to dress like that?
The Iris Garden served both humans and ilthi. The latter's rooms were on the second floor and forbidden to the ordinary Men who came to the brothel each night. A special group of slaves served them exclusively and did not mingle with the others. Their dormitory was separate, as well. Rumors swirled around them. Most didn't live longer than a month or two, or so the whispers claimed.
A pretty boy approached Loki an hour or so later as he swept down the service stairs. "Mimi wants you," he announced, looking Sid up and down with disdain. "And be quick."
The dressing rooms stood adjacent to the training rooms. They were overseen by a large, stout woman who dispensed the evening's costumes and directed the slaves in the application of their cosmetics. Mimi greeted Sid with a narrow-eyed look, watching critically as he knelt before her.
"Not too bad," she allowed grudgingly. "Up, lad, and off with your clothes."
Sid dropped his trousers and watched with hammering heart as she began rummaging through drawers and cupboards. The woman returned to him with an armful of glittering gold chain and wisps of silky fabric.
"Do you know how to put these on?"
He shook his head.
She sighed. "Very well. Come here."
A serving-boy's garments consisted of a jeweled collar and wrist-bands, all connected by lengths of fine, sparkling gold chain. There was a tiny, flimsy pair of briefs, as well. They fitted tightly over his genitals, revealing more than they covered. On his first day in the Garden, his groin had been slathered with a creamy depilatory that burned and left his skin temporarily red and swollen. Since then, no hair grew down there; he was still as smooth as a baby.
"Sit down," she said, pointing to a stool set in front of a mirrored vanity. The seat was cool under his bare buttocks.
For the next few minutes he sat perfectly still while she applied eye liner, mascara and lipstick. His nipples were rouged, encouraging them to stiffen. She pinched them unmercifully until they were puffy and sore, telling him to do the same during the night.
"The customers like to see a boy looking hot and ready," she told him. "Even if you aren't fucking them, they enjoy thinkin' you want to."
Another youth, then another trailed in: the rest of the serving crew. They eyed Sid curiously as they put on identical outfits, piling up at the mirror to put on their make-up, jostling each other and talking. Mimi didn't seem to care, moving among them to adjust a collar here and the strap of a brief there.
Sid noticed his own collar sported a large, red jewel, unique among the others. He wondered about it, but didn't dare speak.
"All right!" Mimi clapped her hands and the now-crowded room fell silent. "Get on out there," she said, "and do your best."
"Thank you, Mistress!"
As one, the half-dozen young men bowed then filed out. Mimi reached out to detain Sid.
"That," she said, pointing to the red gem, "will tell the customers you're not available for hire. They can grope and stroke, but they can't have ye. If you have any trouble with 'em, summon a guard."
He nodded.
"Good," she said with a sudden, wide smile. She reached down and gave his rear end a slap. "Off with you!"
Sid had to run to catch up with the other servers. They gathered in the kitchen, talking while the kitchen slaves loaded trays with drinks and food. Sid was given a large, crystal decanter filled with wine and ordered to refill customers' glasses. "And don't spill any," added one of them with a narrow look. "You're being trained by Kane, yes?"
Sid nodded.
"He's been known to lay a stripe for every drop spilled," the man said with a malicious grin. "So watch yourself."
Gulping, Sid nodded. With the decanter clutched tightly in a sweating hand, he followed the other servers down the corridor, past a bored-looking guard and into the main parlor. Only a few men were there so early, well-dressed and overweight: merchants, most likely. One had a pretty youth on his knee, holding his wine cup to the young man's lips while his other hand moved busily between the boy's legs. None of the customers gave Sid more than a cursory glance, preoccupied with the naked slaves parading before them.
Refilling glasses proved to be a busy job. As the room grew more crowded, Sid hurried from one customer to the next, returning frequently to the kitchen to refill his jug. Aside from a pinch here or a quick feel there, he was left alone to do his job.
The rules decreed that customers take their choices to the bed-closets, but many didn't bother. As the night wore on, Sid saw several slaves bent over tables or ottomans, moaning into their fists as inebriated customers used them.
In the kitchen, a man in a training uniform called to him. Racking his brain for the trainer's name, Sid went to him obediently, dropping to the ground.
"Get up," the man said. "There's too much fucking going on in the common rooms tonight. It's always like this when the place gets crowded. Whenever you see anything like that, call a guard."
"Yes, master," replied Sid meekly, with no intention of doing so. Let them police their own damned whorehouse!
From time to time, his job took him near the mansion's front door. He cast wistful looks at it as he passed, wondering how hard it would be to take advantage of the noise and bustle to slip out and away. A single guard stood beside it, with another outside. It didn't look too promising, but it was the only possibility for escape he'd seen since Prince Loki had left him here. All the windows were locked and the grounds patrolled by guards.
"Slave!"
A slurred voice made him turn around. A handsome man in a velvet frock coat waved at him. Sid took a deep breath and hurried to the man's side, quickly refilling his glass.
"You're a pretty little thing," the man observed, hand trembling and wine sloshing over the rim. He grabbed Sid's face with his free hand, his grip painfully tight. "Not in the usual style, though."
Before Sid knew what was happening, the man pulled him close and kissed him soundly.
Gasping, Sid jerked away. "N-not supposed to," he managed in a strangled voice.
"Nonsense," the man said, grabbing for him again. His glass fell, shattering. "All of you are for sale." He looked around. "Kenneth! Ho! Kenneth!"
One of the evening's Hosts came through the crowd, his distinctive black, floor-length robe an ominous shadow among the glitz and glitter of the Garden's patrons.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jennings, but the boy is a domestic only. If you like his style, let me show you a couple of beauties in the next room. Both of them are exquisitely trained and would love to service you!"
"No! Want him!" Mr. Jennings tightened his grip on Sid's arm.
"I'm sorry..." Kenneth took hold of Sid's other arm and pulled him away. "...he's not for hire."
"How dare you? Don't you know who I am!" Jennings' voice became shrill. He yanked hard on Sid, jerking him roughly back. Sid whimpered in dismay as his decanter slipped from his grasp and fell, rolling across the carpet and splashing wine everywhere.
"Mr. Jennings, I must insist! Release him at once, sir!"
Back and forth, Sid was yanked like a doll between two angry children. His arms hurt, but all he could think of was what Kane would do to him for dropping the wine.
With a desperate wrench, he pulled himself free from both of them and, scooping up the decanter, he ran, pushing his way through the startled guests. He intended to go back to the kitchen, but in his confusion, took a wrong turn. He found himself in a long, empty corridor lined with doors -- lots of doors. He was almost to the end of it before he realized where he was. This was where the slaves brought their customers!
Sid stopped in his tracks. Heart thumping, he fell back against the wall, sliding down until he was crouched on the floor. Rubbing his bruised arms, he tried desperately to think how to avoid a beating. It wasn't his fault he'd dropped the decanter, damn it!
After a moment, he got up. If he put off returning to the kitchen he would likely only make things worse. Throat tight, angry and miserable, he started back. As he approached the door to the rest of the house, he saw the latch lift and heard voices on the other side. Afraid to be found here, he looked wildly around. A large, wing-backed chair with a ruffled skirt stood in a small alcove nearby. He ran and squeezed himself behind it.
The voices grew louder. The door opened and two men came through. One of them sounded familiar, although he couldn't say why.
"...do for your people," the voice said.
There was harsh laughter followed by something low and unintelligible.
"Pretend he's a woman," said the voice, filled with amusement. "I guarantee, he'll be tighter than any whore you've ever had."
Where had Sid heard that voice? It raised the hair on the back of his neck. The two unseen men were very close; he heard their footsteps clearly.
"Some of them are probably here against their will."
"Maybe, but they've all been taken from Armistice or other proscribed towns. None of them are more important than our duty, or are you having second thoughts?"
"Of course not!"
They passed Sid's hiding place and, holding his breath, he poked his head out. The men, their backs to him, walked on down the hall. One of them had blond hair, tied back in a neat braid. The sense of familiarity in Sid grew.
They stopped. The other man consulted the number on the nearest door.
Unexpectedly, the blond man turned his head. His gaze locked with Sid's and Sid's heart lurched with painful violence. It was the man in the forest, the one who had attacked the ilthi! It was the gun-toting human, Maxton!
For one fatal moment, Sid could not move. Then he leapt up, knocking over the chair, and ran. Footsteps pounded after him.
"Wait! Wait! Boy!"
Sid reached the end of the hall and pulled open the door. His way was blocked by the bulky form of a human guard. The man reached out as Sid tried to get around him.
"Hold on!" he rumbled. Maxton slowed to a walk, smiling at the guard.
"Thanks!" he said.
"What's the problem, sir?"
"No problem. I was just interested in him, that's all. He's a pretty thing."
"Yes, sir." The guard's fingers tightened on Sid's biceps. "The man wants to look at you, boy!"
Sid gulped. "I-I'm just a server! Please, I have to go!"
The guard jerked him around to have a closer look. His eyes narrowed on the red jewel in Sid's collar. "Oh. Aye. Sorry, sir. He's off limits."
"Oh, come now." Maxton's smile was ingratiating. "A whore's a whore, right? How much?"
"Sorry, sir. This here whore is special. He's personal property of a vampire."
"Is he, indeed? Is his master here?"
"Not that I know of, sir, but..." The guard broke off at the sight of the coins in Maxton's hand. There were several of them and they were bright gold.
"No one need know, do they?" Maxton asked, his smiling growing confidential and leering. "Just a half-hour with the boy. What do you say?"
The guard licked his lips, clearly torn.
"I'll tell him! I'll tell my master!"
"Shut up!" The guard gave Sid a shake, never taking his eyes off the coins.
Maxton's smile widened and he added another gold coin.
"Why not?" the guard said, shoving Sid at the other man. "If he tells, I'll just deny it."
"Good man." Maxton nodded his approval and handed over what Sid recognized as a considerable sum. "You won't regret it."
"I'd better not," retorted the guard, but he pocketed the money, bowed and stepped back through the door, shutting it tightly in Sid's face.
Sid, dismayed, tried to pull away, but Maxton's grip was too strong. The other man's smile abruptly turned into a sneer.
"Well, well. I never thought I'd see you again and here, of all places!" He shook Sid hard then started down the corridor toward the room where his friend had vanished.
"Wait!" Sid cried, squirming frantically. "It's not my fault! I was forced into this! Please! Let go!"
"Let you go? Not a chance." Maxton stopped before the door and yanked it open. Sid's protests died at the sight that met his eyes.
One of the slaves, a delicate brunette, lay face up across the narrow bed, throat cut from ear to ear. Blood soaked into the mattress. Maxton's companion, in the act of bundling up the sheets, stiffened, then relaxed, eyeing Sid narrowly.
"Keep going," Maxton snapped. "We don't have much time."
"What are you doing with him?"
"We're old friends, the whore and me," Maxton replied. "He's Loki Sviatoslav's toy. Bit of luck, finding him here."
The man nodded and pulled out a wicked, long-bladed knife. Sid's heartbeat stumbled.
"No. Not yet. Finish up here."
"You're taking him with us?"
"Think of everything he knows about Neminora!" Maxton grinned maliciously. "Information we could use."
"Yes, but he's been bitten."
Without thinking, Sid reached up to his neck. The scars were small and pale, but unmistakable.
"We can't trust him."
"Y-yes, you can! Please, I won't say anything!" Sid's eyes moved involuntarily to the corpse on the bed. There was another gold coin on the dead boy's chest, but it was too big to be money. There was a strange symbol etched onto it, too, but he was too far to make it out.
"You're contaminated beyond redemption," replied Maxton. "To say nothing of being a clanless thief!"
Sid's heart plunged. He stared in disbelief at Maxton, whose lip curled.
"After we met in the forest, I went back and asked around about you. The survivors of the Ladyjess massacre had plenty to say. You and the vampire were well met, it seems."
"Clanless?" Maxton's friend smiled contemptuously. "Just goes to show the Sages are right about such scum. I'll bet he enjoyed being fucked by the vampires. Probably begged for it!"
"Damn you! You know nothing about it!" Sid tried again to escape Maxton's grip, but this time, the soldier whirled him around and slammed his fist into Sid's face. The room went dark. His knees buckled and he went down. Their voices came to him in echoes.
"Get up!"
Sid was dragged to his feet. There was a third person in the room now, one of the guards, but not the same man Maxton had bribed. Sid recognized him vaguely as one of those who usually patrolled the grounds.
Maxton's companion crouched beside the bed. He had a flask and, as Sid watched, poured the contents over the wadded sheets and shoved them under the bed. Sid's eyes widened when the man produced a pen-like object and, with a click, conjured a flame from the end of it. Reaching under the bed, he lit the sheets. There was whoosh and flames leapt from the wet fabric. Sid looked around, wild-eyed at Maxton.
Maxton wasn't looking at him, but arguing in a low voice with the newcomer.
"...wasn't part of the deal," the guard was saying. His gaze darted to Sid and back. "He's a bloody ilthiya's slave!"
"Exactly why we need him," replied Maxton smoothly. "What is it? You want more money?"
The man shook his head. "I ain't doin' it for money," he retorted. "But that don't mean I have a death wish."
"Don't worry. If it comes back to you, blame the fool I bribed for a few minutes of so-called pleasure with this garbage."
"Hurry up!" Maxton's companion hissed. "I'm not in the mood to fry."
Maxton nodded shortly and opened the door. Behind them, the fire licked up the drapes greedily.
"Help!" shouted Sid then, giving a mighty tug and pulling free. He stumbled past the guard, who made a grab for him. "HELP! Fire!"
It was a stupid and futile attempt; they were on him at once, wrestling him into submission. The guard swore, furious, and together, he and Maxton got a gag onto Sid and tied his hands. Then, dragging him along with them, they ran to the far end of the corridor. The guard produced a key while Maxton and his friend kept an eye on the hall behind them. Wisps of smoke seeped out from beneath the door. If there were customers in any of the other rooms along the hall, they were too preoccupied to notice what went on outside their doors..
The guard let the small group out into a stairwell. He vanished briefly through the door at the bottom of the steps before reappearing to wave them on. Maxton turned unexpectedly, his fist smashing into Sid's jaw.
When he could think again, Sid sagged between Maxton and the stranger, legs too wobbly to hold him up. His surrounding swam in and out of his tear-filled gaze.
"Any minute now." Maxton's voice was low and filled with malicious glee.
Faintly, Sid heard clanging. There was something frantic about it and it went on and on.
"Fire alarm," said the traitor guard.
The hands around Sid's arms tightened. A moment later, the guard said, "That's the last of 'em. Let's go!"
Sid gritted his teeth on the gag as the men started across the night-shrouded grounds at a run, dragging him along. They huffed and puffed, cursing him as they went. After pressing through some bushes, Sid was abruptly dropped. He lay on his side, head ringing, while the men whispered urgently above him.
They had reached the river. Wet earth pressed against Sid's cheek. He could see the water, lights from the city dancing on its placid surface. They hauled him upright again. A boat drifted beside the bank below them, the hunched figure of a man inside.
Down the muddy decline they went, slipping and sliding. Sid heard shouting behind them. He managed to twist around and look over his shoulder. Above a tall line of hedges, the sky glowed red. Then he slid the last few feet into the water. One of his captor's caught him before he could fall and pushed him roughly over the side into the boat.
"Who the devil is he?"
"An unexpected bonus." The boat rocked wildly as the others climbed in. Sid heard a low humming and the boat surged forward. He tried to sit up, but someone's boot shoved him back into the wet bottom of the boat.
No one spoke as they slid out into the river. The humming, steady, vibrated the boat. Although it seemed like forever to Sid, the sound finally stopped and they slipped under a pier.
By now, Sid was wet and very cold. He shivered ceaselessly, but no one seemed care. When they hauled him up again and threw him overboard, he could do nothing except fight to keep his footing on slime-covered rock. They harried him up a steep embankment and out from under the pier. He had a confused impression of a deserted street lined with ramshackle buildings, of mountains of crates and barrels and the strong smell of dirty water. A coach waited nearby. The men piled into it, Sid with them. The door slammed and it started off at a good clip.
Sid was wedged between Maxton and the boatman. He heard the click again. Light appeared, but it was like the ilthi's, steady, white and unblinking.
"Good work, men," said Maxton. He settled back, grinning at his two companions.
"It's only one whorehouse," said the boatman.
"It's a whorehouse owned by a vampire connected to the Sviatoslavs," retorted Maxton.
"And him?"
"He's a whore owned by their king's son." Maxton sounded supremely satisfied.
The boatman looked Sid up and down. His lip curled.
"This thing? A vampire kept him for pleasure? You're joking, surely!"
Maxton laughed. Reaching over, he pulled off Sid's gag. "He does look like a drowned rat, doesn't he?"
"Is that make-up? Are you sure it's a he?"
"He's a whore, remember?" Maxton reached down and pulled hard on the strap of Sid's brief. It snapped, stinging his hip and exposing him to their mocking eyes. He wanted to sink into the hard leather seat from the humiliation.
"Disgusting," growled the boatman. "Cover him up."
"He's going to tell us all about Neminora, its layout, its defenses, its technology." Maxton reached over and seized Sid's limp penis, squeezing it painfully. "If he wants to live."
"He's better off dead. He already knows too much. Once we get the information, cut his damned throat."
"The mines can always use more workers," replied Maxton coolly, releasing him. "The problem with you, Smith, is you're wasteful."
"Better that then dead."
"In the mines, who will listen to him?" Maxton turned to Sid. He grabbed a handful of Sid's hair, yanking his head back. "You want to live, don't you?"
"Yes," whispered Sid, shame deepening. "Yes."
"See? He'll cooperate."
Maxton let him go and settled back, closing his eyes. Smith, the boatman, touched the side of the lantern and the light vanished. They rode on in darkness.
Let all who hear these words know that Prentiss Branch and Charity Simmson of Holy Oaks have committed a high sin and that any offspring resulting from their forbidden congress is cursed and lies outside the most holy grace of Gaia.
Edicts
Gold Sage Council
Gaiastar, no date
The Iris Garden was burning. As their coach pulled up to the gate, Loki could see the flames leaping high into the night sky, figures running madly around it. Guards stood at the gate, blocking the entry of a crowd of bystanders, but they let Loki and Thorne through.
Thorne, pale, stared at the inferno with raw terror in his face. A wave of fear rushed through Loki, too, leaving him shaky and breathless. Their coach stopped several hundred yards from the burning building. Without a word, Thorne opened the door and jumped out onto the crowded drive. Loki was right behind him.
"Your Highness!"
A frantic Jared appeared from the crowd, face and clothes blackened by soot. Thorne cried out in relief, seeing the slender, frightened figure by his side.
"Misha!"
Misha pushed away from Jared and hurtled himself into the duke's arms.
"I'm sorry," Thorne said over and over. "I'm sorry, my darling."
"Where's Sid?"
Jared shook his head, expression stark. Loki pushed past him, plunging into the crowd, looking around.
Pockets of slaves stood here and there, surrounded by guards. Loki searched their faces, but Sid was not among them. He came to the edge of the onlookers and stared at the blazing mansion, heart in his boots.
Thorne appeared at his shoulder, Jared right behind.
"Did you find him?" the duke asked.
Loki shook his head. He struggled to keep panic at bay.
"I've got men searching the surrounding neighborhood," Jared said. "Just in case. Please, Your Highness, come with me. We've set up a small shelter nearby. You can wait there, if it pleases you."
Loki nodded. The thought of Sid dying in that conflagration refused to let go of him. Over and over he imagined seeing the Man writhing in agony as the flames consumed him, felt Sid's terror as death closed in. By the time they reached the tent at the edge of the grounds, Loki was shaking.
He recognized members of Jared's senior staff. Stepping under the canopy, he was startled when a big man in leather threw himself on the ground at his feet. "My deepest apologies, Your Highness! Please forgive me!"
Loki stared stupidly at the Man, then up at Jared.
"Kane was his trainer," said Jared, scowling. "It was his responsibility to keep an eye on the boy."
"I had just seen him -- he was on his way to the kitchen. But he never returned and, when I went to look for him..." Kane's voice trailed away. "Forgive me!"
Rage hit Loki with such force he couldn't think. Snarling, he reached down and seized the Man by the throat, lifting him high into the air.
"Your Highness!"
Jared and Thorne leapt at Loki, struggling to separate the choking human from his vengeance. They managed finally to pry his fingers from Kane's neck. The trainer collapsed, gasping and twitching.
Everyone was looking at him, stunned. Loki wondered distantly if they thought he was in Frenzy.
"Sit down." Thorne set a gentle hand on his shoulder and steered him to one of several chairs. Loki sat, mind going blank. Thorne left him there, returning to Jared and the others.
After some time, the duke came back. Loki hadn't moved.
"They think it was arson," said the duke in a low voice. "There have been threats against the Garden. Other brothels have been receiving them also."
Loki blinked, interest stirring. "Do they know who?"
"No." Thorne's mouth twisted. "Although, I have to admit, it reminds me of our first days on this world. It wasn't brothels then, of course, but outreach settlements, places we'd set up to negotiate with the humans."
"Who was responsible then?"
Thorne shrugged. "We never caught them, but there were plenty of rumors. In your studies of humans, have you ever heard of the Knights of Jessahana?"
Loki shook his head. "Who are they?"
"No one really knows. A legend, perhaps. A secret society, some say, made up of men descended from Jessahana's personal bodyguards."
"Legends don't set fires."
Thorne's smile held a touch of mockery. "True," he said, rising. "How much longer do you intend to stay. I'd like to get Misha away from this place. Even Neminora would be safer."
Loki stared out into the smoke and confusion. Reminded of Sid, his heart sank again. He got up. "There's no point in it," he replied. "Let's go back home."
The coach drove swiftly through Armistice's streets and into the countryside. Sid huddled between Maxton and his first accomplice, a man called Bart. Sid was scared, almost as scared as when he'd been taken by the ilthi in the hunt. These men might be human, but they meant him no good. In their eyes, he was hopelessly contaminated, less than worthless. Their mention of the Herkemer mines lifted the hair on the back of his neck. The mines were a death-sentence. To be sent there, one had to be a criminal, a heretic, or clanless -- all conditions he met spectacularly.
Through the coach window, Sid saw a faint glow on the horizon gradually bringing the landscape into view. It was almost dawn. Fields stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with woods and cottages. The fields were frost-silvered and from distant chimneys arose pale plumes of smoke.
The boatman, Smith, had thrown a blanket over Sid's lap, more to avoid being offended at Sid's nakedness than from any kindness. Sid longed to pull it up around his shoulders, but his captors made no move to free his hands. Two of them slept, heads bobbing as the coach rattled along. Maxton stayed awake, but he stared out the window and didn't speak.
The coach slowed then turned through a pair of leaning gateposts. It rolled down a rutted wagon track, through overgrown fields and a stand of pines before coming to a stop in front of a ramshackle cottage.
"We're here," Maxton said as his companions woke. He took Sid's arm and pulled him toward the door. The blanket fell off, leaving Sid clad only in his clinking, golden chains.
It was frightfully cold, with a wind blowing unobstructed across the fields. Sid's teeth chattered and the soles of his feet burned on the frosty ground as he stumbled after Maxton. The cottage was dark and there were roof tiles missing. The barn behind it had collapsed and weeds, sere and brittle, grew everywhere.
The men hurried inside. Kicking aside a broken stool, Smith went right to the fireplace and began poking about. The coachman followed a moment later, lugging a valise. "I could use some help," he said grumpily.
"You," said Bart, untying Sid's hands. "Help Williams."
The coachman favored the captive with a sour look then strode from the cottage. Sid followed, shivering.
A quick look at the brightening expanse of fields showed him there was little cover if he chose to run. He went with Williams and stood while the man clambered to the top of the coach and began throwing down more bags. Sid picked up two and would have gone back to the cottage, but Williams, jumping to the ground, loaded him down with two more. Staggering under their weight, Sid returned to the cottage. When he set them down he heard heavy clanking.
Smith had a fire going. Maxton approached Sid and bound his hands again. "Over there," he said, pointing to the corner.
"Please," Sid begged. "Couldn't I have some clothes?"
Maxton curled his lip. "Do as you're told," he retorted and turned his back.
Sid's muscles ached from tensing them against the cold. He crept to the corner and sank down, huddling to conserve as much body heat as he could. The others gathered before the fire, its light dancing over their faces. Through a window, the morning sun brightened.
"I'm done in," announced Smith. "Wake me up when it's time to leave."
So saying, he unrolled one of the bundles brought from the coach, revealing a heavy sleeping-sack. Crawling into it, he turned his back on them.
"Any volunteers to go back into town?" asked Maxton.
There were none. He said something under his breath. "Fine. You go, Bart."
"Why me, damn it?"
"Because I said so," replied Maxton.
Bart growled, but gathered up his things and left the cottage. Williams unrolled his own sack and lay down. A snore rose from Smith's vicinity.
Maxton, ignoring them, opened up one of the bags and took out a something Sid could not quite see. He carried it to the battered table at the other side of the room and, pulling over a stool, sat down.
The object was a small metal box. Fiddling with it, Maxton pulled a long, thin stick up out of it. The cottage filled with a crackling noise. When the noise stopped, Maxton hunched forward and began to quietly speak at the box.
Sid remembered Loki's flyer, the way he'd been able to hear voices from far away. This was obviously forbidden tech, just like the weapons Maxton had carried when Sid had first seen him. Who were these men?
Maxton looked up and caught Sid staring. His eyes narrowed, but he continued speaking for several more minutes. When he'd finished, he returned the box to its bag. Sid closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, but the sound of approaching footsteps told him Maxton wasn't fooled.
A hard kick to his naked hip made Sid straighten with a jerk. Maxton dropped to a crouch beside him, ignoring the way the prisoner shrank away.
"You've seen similar things, have you?"
"It's forbidden," replied Sid. "You're no better than I am."
Maxton lifted his hand and Sid ducked, but not in time to avoid a hard slap across his face.
"It's forbidden," Maxton agreed, "but not for me."
The blow split Sid's lip. He licked away the blood. Maxton grinned.
"Nothing is forbidden to me," he continued. "I could even have you, you little whore, if I were so inclined."
"But the Sages forbid..."
Another blow, this one leaving Sid's head spinning. Maxton seemed to be enjoying himself. "The Sages have no authority over me," he said, leaning closer. "But even if men attracted me, boy, I wouldn't touch a piece of filth used by the vampires. You're fit for nothing but wiping my boots on."
"I never did anything to you," whispered Sid. "I didn't ask to be taken by the vampires! Why do you hate me so much?"
"Hate?" Maxton laughed shortly. "You're not worth hating." He rose and looked down. "You're nothing but a piece of dung, disgusting and worthless. If it weren't for the information you carry, I'd have left you to die with the rest of the garbage in that whorehouse!"
Turning his back, he crawled into his own sleeping sack. Silence fell over the chilly room. The fire began to die and what little warmth it generated died with it. Sid tried to sleep, too, but only managed a fitful doze, waking again and again because of the cold and his own fear.
Late in the afternoon, Bart returned. His arrival woke the others. Grumbling and complaining, they crawled from their warm blankets. Smith untied Sid then accompanied him outside for a few minutes.
Back inside, Sid was ordered to build up the fire. He was pointed to a case containing a leather pouch filled with loose tea and a clay pot. The others gathered around the fireplace while Sid, aware of their watchful eyes on him, filled the pot from a water-skin and set it on the coals. It wasn't long before the water was steaming.
"The whole town is abuzz," Bart said, watching jealously as Sid dropped a handful of tea-leaves into the pot. Maxton produced a large loaf of stuffed bread wrapped in paper. Tearing off handfuls of it, he passed it around. There was none for Sid, whose stomach growled in protest.
"Who are they blaming?"
"Infighting between vampires. As for the vamps?" Bart shrugged. "Who knows?"
"What about the town's so-called sages?"
"Not a word, of course. The heretics prosper from the vampires' presence."
"That will change soon enough." Maxton held out his empty cup and Sid, using a bit of rag to shield his hand from the pot's heat, poured him a cup of the fragrant liquid. "When death becomes the reward for cooperation, Armistice will return to Jessahana."
"And if they don't?" asked Smith. "Unless the Golden Council supports us..."
"They will, never fear." Maxton looked from one man to another, expression grim. "Besides, the vampires themselves want the contamination to cease. Why else did their king send an envoy to Gaiastar?"
There was silence. Then Smith spat on the cottage's dirt floor. "And they will do nothing! The sages themselves accept the monsters' cursed technology."
Maxton smiled darkly. "Jessahana, in her wisdom, knew very well this day would come. 'Tis why we exist, brothers. Never forget it."
"Hail to the Lady!" Bart said fiercely. The others nodded and repeated it. They finished the rest of their meal in silence.
As Loki expected, he and the duke returned to Neminora to find Alric waiting on the landing pad, furious. Adrian was with him, looking customarily grim. No sooner had the travelers disembarked then the general strode swiftly to the ramp.
"Your Grace, welcome back. We were worried." He cast a disparaging look at Misha, who was silent and watchful. "Please. His Majesty would like to speak to you."
Alric descended on Loki as soon as the others were out of sight.
"Damn you! What the hell were you thinking? You know Father didn't want the duke leaving the island!"
"He also told you to nanny Thorne," Loki replied coolly.
Alric changed tack. "Don't play games with me, little brother. I've told Father you took Thorne without my permission or knowledge!"
"Don't think Father doesn't see what's going on, Alric! Just because he stays holed up in his palace doesn't mean he's ignorant of your little tricks. You and Katya aren't the only ones with spies everywhere."
"I know who all his agents are," replied Alric, but he looked uneasy.
Loki was in a bad mood. He kept seeing the blazing brothel and -- in his imagination, at least -- Sid, screaming in agony as the flames took him. Ignoring his fuming brother, he returned to his rooms. Calling for blood wine, he sat down by the fire, determined to drink himself into unconsciousness.
He succeeded admirably. Passing out in his chair, he didn't even remember Fema getting him up and into his bed. It was late the following evening before he woke. Sluggish, he lay tangled in his knotted sheets, staring up at the ceiling.
Maybe he should get another slave, another wild one. After Sid, a domestic slave, no matter how well trained, seem pallid and uninteresting. But taking another wild human would likely strain his father's uncertain temper.
An image of Sid appeared in Loki's mind: the lithe body, the sudden, enchanting smile. He swore, rolling over and pounding his pillow in frustration and regret.
"Your Highness?" Fema stood in the doorway, apprehensive.
Loki sighed. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but you've a summons from His Majesty."
Of course, he did. Damn. Loki sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning.
It would be foolish to keep his father waiting. Loki dressed quickly and hurried up to the palace. To his surprise, it was Maura who greeted him.
"Good evening, Loki," she said, gliding forward to take his hands in hers. "It's good to see you, dear."
He leaned down to kiss her warm cheek. The scent of human made his pulse quicken.
"You look lovely, as always. Am I in trouble?"
"Aren't you always?" Her smile sparkled up at him. She was not a tall woman, probably of average height in human terms. Her hair was still bright gold. For the first time, he wondered how old she was. It seemed she had been his father's mistress forever, but, as a human, it could not have been more than a handful of years.
Was she rhora? The notion seemed less incredible when he was in her presence. He followed her through the spacious rooms to his father's study, deep in the innermost part of the palace.
"Come!" His father's voice greeted her soft knock.
Maura opened the door, but didn't enter, inclining her head and giving Loki an encouraging smile.
Loki was startled to find Thorne already there and looking quite at ease. It was disconcerting to see two such silver heads bent together.
"Father." Loki bowed, bracing himself for a tongue-lashing.
Instead, the king gestured toward another chair. "You look a bit pale," his father observed sardonically. "Off your feed?"
Loki smiled wanly and sat. Angelus' eyes gleamed with mocking amusement. "Gabriel tells me you had an eventful evening in Amistice."
"It was a bit more exciting than I like," Loki replied. "Has there been any word about who caused the fire?"
"No." Angelus scowled. "I sent Adrian to investigate. He should be reporting in at any moment. What do you think?"
Loki shrugged. "Business rival?"
"It's possible." Angelus glanced at Thorne then back. "It seems unlikely, however. Such an act would invite retaliation and that would be bad for business."
"The Sages?"
"That, too, is possible."
"You sent Adrian to Gaiastar, didn't you? What did they have to say?"
"What we expected them to say. They thanked us politely for the information and promised to look into the matter."
A soft beeping interrupted him. Angelus looked down at the surface of his desk where the glass screen displayed the Sviatoslav coat of arms.
"It's Adrian," said the king. "Access."
The image faded, replaced by Adrian Dare's distinctive features.
"Your Majesty, we've finished our investigation of the fire."
"Any clues to its origin?"
"Yes, sire." Dare held something up before the camera. The disk was bright gold, the camera's light reflecting off its etched surface. "We found this at the source of the fire. I've ordered our people to begin an immediate investigation."
The king sat as if struck by lightning. Thorne's mouth twisted into a mocking smile, but his eyes were deadly serious.
Loki stared at it. Something about the design struck a chord. He'd seen it before. But where?
"No need," said Angelus. "Bring it here at once." He looked at Thorne.
Loki leaned across the desk. "Adrian!"
"Highness?"
"Is everyone accounted for? Have you found all the bodies?"
Adrian's expression said he knew exactly what Loki was asking.
"Yes, sir. All the occupants of the brothel have been accounted for." He hesitated. Then, with a sour look, added, "All except one."
Perhaps this is some cruel joke, that we be brought to a world teeming with food, and yet must live in fear of that very abundance.
...unknown date, unknown author
They left the abandoned cottage at dusk, heading farther away from Armistice and ilthiyan land. Bart gave Sid a pair of breeches and a shirt from his own bag. Both were too large, but Sid was happy to have them.
Maxton didn't order Sid bound again, but seated him between Smith and Bart with dire threats of what would happen if he tried to escape. Sid, tired and hungry, had no energy to do any such thing. Instead, he was grateful for the warmth of the clothes and the two bodies on either side of him and slept.
He woke when the coach stopped. It was raining and the wind shook the vehicle as they disembarked. Through the fading light and mist, Sid saw the dreary outlines of a small village.
The group hurried through the rain toward a modest Home, its steeple little more than a bell on a pole atop the peaked roof. They were met at the door by a young man in green, the color of a recently ordained sage.
"Is it true?" he asked eagerly, shutting the door after them. "Did you destroy one of the vampires' houses of sin?"
"Good news travels fast," Bart said, one eyebrow cocked.
"Come in! Come in!" The young sage beckoned for them to follow.
"No one knows we were coming?" Maxton asked, giving Sid a shove forward.
"Of course not!" They hurried down a narrow hall lined with pictures of men and women in the gold or white robes of the highest level sages. Their eyes seemed to follow Sid, filled with contempt.
It was a poor Home, the plastered walls whitewashed with signs of patching here and there. The floor creaked underfoot, the wood planking old and grimy. The village outside had been equally unprepossessing, but the fact that it boasted a Home, even one as small as this, gave it status.
"I'm sorry for the poor accommodations," the sage said earnestly. "If I didn't have a wife and children, I would have gladly turned over the cottage, but I was afraid they might suspect something should I do so."
Maxton shrugged. "Is the cellar dry?"
"Yes, sir! There's a stove and I've seen to cots and blankets. Again, my apologies!"
"Not at all. We appreciate your help." Maxton set a hand briefly on the sage's shoulder then followed him on down the hall.
The sage stopped before a low door, thrusting it open. Stairs descended into dank darkness. Producing a flint, the sage lit a lantern hanging on the wall of the stairwell. Maxton took it and started down the steps.
The cellar was walled with stone. An attempt had been made to give a homey feel with some rag rugs and rickety chairs set before a pot-bellied stove. Lined up against one wall were cots with piles of blankets folded neatly on them. A table and more chairs stood against another wall.
"Get the stove going," Maxton told Sid. He tossed the youth something and Sid caught it automatically. It was a fire-starter just like the one Loki carried.
While Sid piled wood and kindling into the stove, the others moved restlessly around the cellar.
"Jessa, but I can't wait until we get home," muttered Bart and sneezed. "Primitive hole!"
Maxton's lip curled. He sat down in front of the stove, watching Sid struggle to light the fire.
"It's Gaia's way," he said. "I would willingly live in Her embrace. The elder technology we must possess fills my soul with revulsion."
"Maybe so," retorted Bart. "But I prefer the warmth it brings. Hurry up, boy! I'm freezing!"
Maxton's eyes narrowed on his companion, but he said nothing more.
Sid finally got the fire going. The sage had left a several large baskets stacked near the door. These proved to contain food.
"Can you cook?"
"A little."
"Get us a supper going," said Maxton. "The rest of you -- to me."
There was bread, a bit of smoked chicken, and some root vegetables. Sid's cooking skills were rudimentary and consisted of mostly stolen potatoes and onions scorched in a fire. Still, he reckoned he could put together a stew if they weren't too fussy. His own stomach clenched and mouth watered at the very thought.
His captors gathered around the table, pulling out piles of papers. Maxton brought out their link again but it was Williams who talked into it this time. They were engrossed in their business, making it easy for Sid to sneak morsels of food now and again. After awhile, when the stew was bubbling on the stove and the worst of his hunger assuaged, he began to pay attention to his abductors.
"...wands. Did you see how many were in use in..."
"Disruption would affect the vampires, too. Are we really ready to bring them down on us?"
"By now, they know who they're dealing with," said Maxton. "Sviatoslav is one of the old ones; he'll recognize the medallion."
"And come after us with all he's got!" Williams wasn't happy.
"Not a chance," sneered Bart. "They say he's going mad, the way they all do when they're too old. He hasn't acted on any of our provocations in the last few years."
"What do you call the Ladyjess Massacre?"
"Word is it was his son who was responsible for that and the old man was furious."
These men had spies inside the castle? Sid stirred his stew and wondered.
"Hey! Is that food ready yet?"
"J-just a few more minutes, sir. The potatoes aren't done yet."
There was grumbling, but no immediate retaliation. Sid waited until they had gone back to their discussion and fished a couple pieces of vegetable and meat, setting them on the other side of the stove-pipe, out of their sight.
"The old man is for peaceful coexistence, at least that's what I hear," Maxton continued. "If that happens, cities like Armistice will shoot up all over the place. They may even start moving into the mountains. Above all, we can't let that happen."
"They're already in the mountains." Bart scowled.
"The exile?" Maxton's lip curled. "He's no threat. I hear he's addicted to drugs. Besides, he's been called back to Neminora. The heretic clans are a bigger threat. Especially in Harmonia. Once the ilthi problem is solved, it's our duty to free the shrine from them."
"I agree. Harmonia's shrine, out of all of them..." Bart's next comment broke off at a knock on the cellar door. Heads swiveled in that direction. Maxton's hand slipped inside his jacket, then fell away. The door opened and he relaxed.
A stranger, a human, came down the steps. He was tall and rangy, his dark hair pulled back in a careless ponytail from which long, wet strands of hair escaped. He was wrapped in a long, hooded cloak.
Except for Maxton, the others rose and bowed. The stranger, however, bowed to Maxton.
"Greetings, my lord. Congratulations on a successful strike against the enemy!"
"Thank you, my lord. Please, sit down."
The man shed his cloak, throwing it over the back of an empty chair. Sid's eyes widened. Beneath it, the stranger was well-dressed, but it was the color of his coat that made Sid's eyes widen. It was gold, a unique hue he'd seen only a few times in his life. He was so startled, he dropped one of the wooden bowls.
Most Gold Sages resided in the huge, palatial Homes of Gaiastar and other important towns, rarely venturing into the countryside and villages where Sid had spent most of his wandering life. They were scholars and administrators, the final authority in the matter of clans and bloodlines and the interpretation of Jessahana's teachings. Sid had only seen them in portraits like those in the hallway upstairs.
The sage looked around, gaze lighting on Sid. "Who's this?"
"Prince Loki's pleasure slave." There was a smirk in Maxton's voice.
The newcomer lifted an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am." Maxton favored Sid with a cold stare. "Surely that mess you're making is done by now? Hop to it!"
Heart thumping, Sid filled the bowls and brought them to the table. Maxton ordered him to the other side of the room as soon as the last man was served. He went, hunkering down by the wall near the stairs, wondering what business such an important sage had with killers and arsonists.
The men ate, talking together in low voices. At first, the Gold sage cast frequent looks in Sid's direction, but after awhile, their talk must have turned to other things, for Sid was subsequently ignored. Fatigue and boredom crept up on him. He caught himself nodding.
A shout roused him, bringing him back to his feet. He was ordered to clear the dishes. As he took away the last bowl, the sage suddenly reached out and caught his wrist.
"You served Loki Sviatoslav?"
Sid nodded, apprehensive.
The sage smiled tightly. "Sit down," he said, pointing to a chair just vacated by one of the men.
Warily, Sid did so.
"You must be very grateful to these men for rescuing you."
Sid stared at him. "I'm rescued?" he blurted out. "I -- I thought I was a prisoner."
The Gold sage smiled. "You're not grateful for being taken from that brothel?"
Sid looked over at Maxton and the others. "If -- if I'm rescued, can I leave here?"
There was a chuckle from the sage. "My dear young man, you're clanless and a thief. Do you really think to escape Gaia's justice?"
Sid looked down at the table top and said nothing.
"At least your immortal soul is no longer in danger," continued the sage. "And if you serve us well and obey your betters, you may be offered the chance to repent your sinful ways and atone."
"H-how?"
"We'll speak of that later." He nodded to Williams, who rose, crossing the cellar to the stairs. The man ran up them and, in a few moments, Sid heard his footsteps creaking across the ceiling.
"You were in Neminora," continued the sage. "How much of it did you see?"
Sid thought of his dash through the castle, of his trip up into the scary world of the ilthiya's highest tech. "Not much," he muttered.
"Really? You were never around their defenses?"
"I - I don't think so, sir."
Williams returned. He brought a piece of paper and a piece of drawing charcoal. He gave them to the Gold sage, who hesitated a moment, then drew a rough outline of the island. He pushed the paper and charcoal over to Sid. "Draw for me everything you remember," he said. "Starting with Prince Loki's rooms."
Sid stared at the white sheet. After a moment, he drew a square and pushed it back.
"Just one room?"
"He's a second son. He's not that important."
There were raised eyebrows, but Max said only, "Very well. Now, where is the king's residence?"
"What do I get in return for helping you?" Sid asked, swallowing his apprehension.
"Watch your tongue, whore!" snapped Maxton.
"Stop calling me that!" Sid threw down the charcoal and clenched his fists. "You've treated me no better than the ilthi! Why should I help you? At least they fed me!"
"What's the matter? Do you miss your master's cock?" Maxton sneered.
Sid swallowed his angry retort, ignoring Maxton and focusing on the sage. "Please, my lord. I'll tell you whatever you want to know if you promise to let me go free afterwards."
"As you wish," said the sage with a sharp look at Maxton. "I promise. Now - show us what you know."
Picking up the marker once more, Sid drew what he could remember.
"I wondered how you'd learned to speak such flawless ilthiyan," Maxton muttered after Sid had finished. "A mind-wipe machine."
"It didn't wipe my mind," replied Sid. "It only taught me their language which, Jessahana willing, I won't ever have to speak again." He looked over at the sage. "That's everything I remember, my lord. May I go now?"
"Everything? Are you certain?"
Sid looked again. It was all there, the residences, the domestic quarters, the landing pads and the restricted high tech areas. "It's what I remember," he replied. He stood up. "Can I take some food with me?"
The men looked at each other. The sage smiled faintly. Maxton burst out laughing.
Sid, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, nevertheless backed away from the table and faced the stairs. From the corner of his eye, he saw Maxton nod to Williams. The latter stood up.
"I'm sorry," said the sage with apparent sincerity, "but even if you weren't a criminal, my boy, you've seen way too much."
Sid didn't wait to hear more. He snatched up his drawing before they stop him and, ducking under William reaching hands, ran across the cellar. Pulling open the stove door as he passed, he crammed the drawing into it and kept running. He got to the top of the stairs amid their shouts and cursing, but the door didn't budge. Desperately he threw his weight into it, but without success. A moment later, Bart and Williams were on him, slamming him against the wood then throwing him back down the stairs.
He fought them with angry desperation, screaming, kicking, even biting, as they dragged him away from the stairs and pushed him back into the chair. Someone brought ropes and, after much effort, they tied him down. Only then, with the ropes cutting into his arms and wrists, his head ringing from their blows, did he give up.
For a long moment, the only sound was heavy breathing. Then a hand locked in his hair, jerking his head back. He stared through tear-filled eyes at Maxton's white, angry face.
"Did you get the drawing?" he heard from somewhere to his right. Bart.
"No. It's burnt."
"Very well." Maxton tightened his grip, making Sid gasp. "We'll just start over."
The link chimed softly. Loki looked up from his chair. Fema hastily answered it, voice low.
"What is it?" asked Loki when the call ended.
"It was Jared, Your Highness. They've checked again. Your slave's body was definitely not among the dead."
"Then he's bolted, the little bastard."
"Yes, my lord. It certainly looks that way. Shall I ask my brother to launch a search?"
"Yes, right away."
Fema reactivated the link, leaving Loki to rub his eyes and go back to his reading. He preferred to be the one guiding the hunt for Sid, but his father was in a touchy mood.
"You're staying on the island until I say otherwise," he'd told his fractious youngest son. "If the Knights of Jessahana are still around, we are all in grave danger."
"Weren't they destroyed at the end of the war?"
"So we believed. Either we were mistaken or, as I hope, these are only brigands claiming the title. Regardless, I prefer not to lose you."
Loki might even have been touched by such regard -- if he didn't profoundly mistrust it.
With nothing else to do, he decided to see what he could find out about this legendary cult.
There was precious little about them. The Knights had come to the ilthi's attention during the war. High-ranking human prisoners had been in awe of them, but had themselves known very little beyond the fact of their existence. A handful of their weapons had been taken during their few encounters and it had raised the alarm among the ilthi. None were on the same level as ilthiyan weapons at the time, but all were considerably more efficient and powerful than those used by the other humans. As for the Knights themselves, they were never taken prisoner, but always committed suicide, escaping their captors every time.
Not once did the official Gaian government admit to their existence, but after the war, rumors came to the ilthi that the Gold Council itself had moved against the Knights. There were even rumors of the Council leaking information to the ilthi of the location of their base. Try as he might, however, Loki couldn't find any official record of it.
One evening, nearly a week after the fire, Loki was seated at his vanity, Fema brushing his hair, when Adrian Dare's reflection appeared behind them in the glass. Fema, startled, jerked on the brush, triggering a curse from the prince.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness!" cried Fema, distressed.
"Don't you knock?" asked Loki, scowling at Adrian's reflection. He waved Fema away.
"I've always liked your hair. They say your mother had hair like that."
Loki got up. "What do you want, Adrian?"
"His Majesty wants you to go to Tarka. Review all the records you can find about the Knights."
"What? Why me? Doesn't he have aides to do that?"
"I asked him that question myself. He didn't answer, only repeated his order." The general sounded distinctly annoyed.
Loki was acutely aware of how close Adrian stood. Abruptly, he rose and moved away from the mirror, on edge. Even as he did so, he wondered at himself. It wasn't as though they were strangers. There had been a time when they had been very close indeed.
Rhora.
"Perhaps I should go with you," Adrian continued. "To keep your mind on your job."
"If you wish." Loki put as much indifference into his voice as he could. "Although why you would want to go back to the Academy, I can't imagine."
"Nostalgia?"
Loki made a rude noise. "Don't be an ass. You were insufferable. I liked you a lot better after I left."
"Yes." Adrian's voice was dry. "I remember. Now your taste runs to skinny human boys. Why, I wonder? Are you more comfortable with someone weaker than you are?"
"If that was the case," said Loki, holding onto his temper, "we'd still be together."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Still angry after all these years? His Majesty is right. You let your heart rule your head. We're fortunate, indeed, that you are not in line for the throne."
He started to turn toward the door and paused. "One more thing," he said. "Your father expects you back within the week. Don't try his patience by lingering like you did in Vestrax. He'll insist that I come and fetch you again and I have better things to do than play nursemaid to petulant brats."
Mankind is born to the sin of arrogance and pride. The gifts of Gaia are like a sword with two edges, a blessing and a curse. Without humility and obedience, the arrogance rises like a cancerous growth, inciting man to turn their back on Her, to ravage and poison Her. In love with themselves, men fall into self-deceit, forgetting their true purpose. By seeking Gaia's powers for themselves, men became corrupt. By elevating themselves to godhood, men were damned.
Axioms, Jessahana, First Sage
"Is that all? Where are the weapons? What about their power source?"
Sid shook his head, despairing. "I don't know," he said hoarsely. "I don't know!"
A hand on the Iris' slave-collar dragged him off the chair to stand beside the table, looking down at his newly drawn map.
"Think!" Maxton's voice was hard, merciless. He dug his fingers deeper between the collar and Sid's neck, cutting off Sid's breath.
"This will end when you cooperate," came the sage's voice.
Sid could only shake his head. Abruptly, Maxton let go, giving him another hard push forward. Someone snatched the map out of the way as he fell onto the table-top.
"I was only a slave!" he gasped, trying to push himself back up. "I wasn't allowed to leave the prince's rooms! Please! That's all I know!"
He hurt everywhere. Burns covered his chest and belly, his mouth was puffy and bleeding, one eye swollen shut. His left arm was blinding agony and he knew it was broken.
"Please!" he whispered.
But they wouldn't let him get up. Someone kept him bent over the table, face down.
"Maybe," came Bart's voice, "you just need another bit of encouragement."
"No.... No! Please!"
Something poked at his anus and new terror shook him. "No! Oh, Jess! No!"
"What's the matter? I thought you liked this sort of thing?"
Laughter joined his screams. He writhed desperately against the table, trying to escape the terrible, ripping agony as they pushed something much too big into him. Incoherent pleas tumbled from bitten lips. When they began to ram it in and out of him, he lost track of everything. All he could think was that anything was better than this, even death! He prayed for it, begged for it. When, at last, the darkness came, he embraced it eagerly.
After a time, awareness filtered back and with it pain. The dirty floor was under his cheek. He smelled blood and urine. Pain lay like a suffocating blanket over him and each breath he drew was an act of will.
Were they finished with him? Were they done? Would it all start again?
Sid heard their voices, echoing and indistinct. He made no attempt to understand. All he could do was endure, living for each moment between breaths when the pain was less. Agony was his entire world; it was his past, his present and his future and he wanted only for it to end.
He slipped in and out of consciousness. Sometimes, he opened his eyes to see boots moving back and forth in his narrow line of vision. It gradually sank in: they were no longer torturing him. Did they finally believe he had given them everything he knew? Or were they just waiting for him to recover enough to start again?
For some reason then, he thought of Loki. Regret tightened his throat and a dim, half-formed longing.
Abruptly, the world shattered. They were lifting him. He made a pitiful sound, all that his raw throat could manage. Around him, the cellar tilted and spun.
"...not here, damn it!"
"...clanless..."
"Doesn't matter. If he dies here, Gaia will..."
Darkness swamped Sid again, but not for long. He came awake again to wet and cold, to slick wooden steps sliding under his bare feet. Ahead, an indistinct shape loomed. Sid heard creaking, then the world spun again and he landed hard on his face. His tenuous consciousness was lost again.
When he woke, it was to movement and he knew, distantly, that he was in the coach. His head sang and his thoughts went in every direction. He thought the pain might be less, but perhaps it was only his imagination.
The coach stopped. The door opened. They had his arm and leg, lifting him. Suddenly he was flying. In slow motion, he saw the road under him and a ditch, dead cat-tails and weeds. Then he fell, the drop seeming to last forever.
Water. Dirty and edged with ice. He landed in it and after that brief, harrowing moment of consciousness, was lost again.
The coastal clouds receded in the rear screen. Loki felt a lightening of his spirits as they dwindled in his sight. He was beginning to really hate Neminora! Only Adrian's threat of coming after him kept Loki from turning his flyer east and heading straight for Armistice. The Iris Garden wasn't the only house of pleasure!
Except there would be no Sid there. Loki felt the abrupt plunge of his heart with dismay. It wasn't rhora! It couldn't be! He wouldn't let it! Wherever Sid was, best of luck to the boy!
Besides, the continent was vast. There were plenty of places a human thief could disappear.
What a pity the tracking chemical had worn off by now.
Loki frowned. What if it hadn't? He stared at the sensor board. The chemical was old; it had been developed exclusively for use in ilthi, but what if it acted differently on human metabolism? Excitement stirred and he tried to quash it. Even if it was still present in Sid's system, it would surely be too faint to read.
No harm in trying.
Of its own accord, it seemed, his hand moved to the sensor board and flipped it on. He set the range to its highest level and began a slow, deliberate sweep.
Of course, Sid wouldn't show up! This was complete foolishness! Pathetic! He should just get on to Tarka and his research!
The blip took him completely by surprise. It was there one moment, then gone as the sensor swept on. Loki lunged at the board, sending the sweep back. There it was again! Faint, but unmistakable, the pinpoint of light blinked steadily. Loki, still not ready to believe, checked the readings.
They were Sid's, all right!
He turned the flyer, not caring whether Adrian was tracking him from Neminora. The signal came from forty or fifty miles south of Armistice. It was wild human territory. Loki got up and went back to the weapons locker.
The signal grew brighter. Wooded landscape gave way to fields. He passed a village, dark save for a light here and there. It had a Home. He saw the spire rising through a copse of trees.
A road wound through farmland. He followed it, slowing as the blip grew brighter yet. He saw no one. Although he panned the exterior cameras slowly and carefully around, they showed him only empty landscape.
Suddenly, a rapid beeping sounded. He banked the flyer, landing it on a field several hundred feet from the road. Again he searched the surroundings, but the camera picked up nothing.
The air was cold and damp when he stepped out of the aircraft. It had recently rained, the ground spongy under his feet. He consulted the scanner's handset. The signal came from the left.
He followed it, jumping over a ditch to stand on the road. He picked out a set of carriage tracks swerving from the middle to the edge, then back again. Turning, Loki swung the handset slowly back and forth.
Was it possible the signal was just an artifact, a glitch in the sensors? He stared around the empty fields, at the distant outline of the village. It had been more than a month since he'd injected Sid with the tracer. His heart sank. Turning, he started back toward the flyer.
It was chance alone that he saw the pale gleam among the weeds in the ditch. He moved toward it, pushing them aside and his heart lurched.
Sid!
Throwing the handset to the ground, Loki slid down the bank, crashing through a thin layer of ice. The young human lay half in, half out of the water, unmoving. Near panic, Loki lifted him out, pulling his icy body close. Sid didn't move nor make a sound. Fear banished Loki's elation and he ran.
In the flyer, he pushed the back of a seat down flat and laid the unconscious slave on it. He saw the cuts, the burns and the bruises, a map of torment that sent a wave of fury through him. Broken bones poked up through torn skin. It was a wonder Sid was still alive.
Loki pawed through the flyer's medical kit. It was only a standard model, with a diagnostic unit, a tissue knitter, some antibiotics and a defibrillator. He used the knitter at once, swearing nonstop as he passed it over the mess Sid's captors had made of his body.
It took awhile, there was so much damage. The diagnostic suggested the possibility of internal injuries, as well; injuries beyond the scope of the simple knitter.
He would have to get the Man to a proper human medical facility as fast as possible, but in the meantime, Sid's icy skin was warming much too slowly. Loki returned to the cockpit and programmed the flyer for automatic. Once it was in the air, he returned to the cabin.
Ilthiyan body temperature was several degrees lower than a human's, but Loki was still warmer than Sid at the moment. Lifting Sid back into his arms, Loki wrapped him in a blanket and took a seat by the window. With Sid curled safe in his arms, he stared out into the night while the flyer made all possible speed to Tarka.
The city of Tarka sat on the mainland, far to the south, at the very limit of the great coastal cloud bank. It had been etched out of jungle-covered hills, overlooking a warm, tropical sea. Like Neminora's islands, the cliffs of Tarka were basalt, riddled with caves and tunnels. Although it seemed difficult to believe, it rained here more often than it did in the archipelago, huge, thundering downpours which, over the millennia, had enlarged the underground labyrinth far beyond Neminora's narrow ways.
Soaring, cathedral caverns opened one into another; waterfalls plunged from openings in the ground a hundred feet above. All of it was shaded by the ancient jungle, the distant canopy so dense it was almost as effective as the cloud bank at shielding the ilthi from the killing sun.
The majesty and beauty of Tarka was, naturally, restricted to the ilthi. Their humans, cattle and slaves, lived above ground in wretched wooden hovels further inland. It was there Loki took Sid. The Academy had a human research station offering the most advanced medical treatment for the species to be found anywhere in Gaia.
Technicians met him at the airstrip with life-support equipment. Sid was bundled into it immediately and whisked away while Loki rode to the center's administration building, a low, glass-walled structure at the edge of the complex.
To his surprise, he was welcomed by none other than Braxton Fenn, the section director and one of Gaia's foremost authorities on human history. The scholar greeted him with astonishment and, to Loki's secret gratification, delight.
"Your Highness! This is a pleasure! I've read your theory on human breeding practices. Most insightful!"
"Thank you! It's an honor for me, too, professor. I'm currently reading your latest book on pre-Jessahana history."
"Oh, dear." Fenn smiled apologetically. "Not my best work, I'm afraid. Aside from our own studies, there's precious little preserved by the Gaians themselves. They prefer to think of their society as beginning with the Great Sage. But I understand you're here for quite another reason than academics."
"My slave," agreed Loki. "He was been badly injured by others of his kind. I'm hoping your physicians can repair him."
"If anyone can, it's our people. What happened?"
"Tell me, Professor, what do you know about the Guardians of Jessahana?"
"The Knights? A secret society, disbanded since the war. I've done a little research on them, but most of what I've found couldn't be confirmed. "
"We must talk more," said Loki. "But right now, I'd like to see my slave."
"Of course." Fenn seemed a little taken aback by Loki's concern, but he summoned a human. "Please take his highness to the medical ward."
Loki followed his awestricken guide to drab, wooden building some distance from Administration. Inside, however, it was clean and bright. Slate tile and waterproofed, whitewashed walls and ceiling kept the inevitable damp at bay. They were met by two humans wheeling a gurney between them. Loki laid Sid down on it, heart twisting at the Man's utter stillness.
"Personal slave?" asked an older human in physician's clothing, his voice neutral.
Loki nodded.
"We'll see what we can do."
They wouldn't let him go into the examination room with them, but left him in an observation chamber just outside. He found himself sharing the room with several more young humans, students who stared at him in shock and backed away from the window, giving him the best view.
"The subject is a young human male in late adolescence." The physician stood at the examination table, his voice echoing over a loudspeaker. He pulled over a diagnostic -- a proper one, not the little portable device carried in flyer first-aid units. "The boy has been tortured; there is evidence of widespread tissue damage recently repaired with a standard knitter. There is internal injury and bleeding. Some head trauma..."
Loki stood, listening to the litany of pain recited methodically by the physician. He was aware of the humans regarding him with horror, probably certain he had done those things to Sid. He ignored them. Still talking, the doctor and his assistants set to work on their comatose patient, pulling forward an array of specialized medical equipment. Sid was soon wrapped in cocoon of wires, tubes and silver coverings. Lights winked and flashed.
Finally, the doctor stepped back. He waved a hand and his assistants began detaching Sid from the equipment.
"Please note the readings on the monitor overhead," said the doctor. "We humans are very resilient. Even after appalling damage, we are easily repaired. Are there any questions?"
"Sir?" One of the humans standing near Loki piped up. "Is there a time limit before damage like that becomes irreversible?"
Loki didn't wait for the answer. They were wheeling Sid from the operating room. He left, not interested in anything except seeing his slave's condition for himself. Out in the corridor, he stopped the doctor's two assistants.
"He's still unconscious," one of them said diffidently. "The doctor has administered a sedative. He will be out for another hour."
Loki nodded, disappointed but willing to wait. He followed the two Men down the hall and into a small room where Sid was lifted carefully from the gurney onto a bed. The Men tucked him beneath the blankets, centered a diagnostic screen above him, and discreetly withdrew.
In the silence that followed, Loki took a seat near the bed, slumping back in the chair and closing his eyes. The sound of the rain and thunder came to him from a distance, like enough to Neminora that he began to doze.
He woke some time later, startled by the whispers of two humans hovering over Sid's bed. They jumped when he got to his feet, but Loki's moment of alarm quickly faded. With round eyes, they bowed and, after checking the machines, hurried from the room.
"Sid?"
The figure on the bed stirred. Sid didn't look as ghastly pale as before, thought Loki. Reaching over, he brushed his fingertips along the slave's cheek. Dark eyelashes fluttered and opened. Drowsy eyes stared straight up at Loki. That soft mouth formed his name. Relief rushed through Loki in a warm wave.
"Good evening," he said quietly. "No. Don't sit up. You've been badly injured."
Awareness flooded into Sid's face, horror shadowing his eyes.
"It's all right," Loki soothed. "You're safe now."
Sid closed his eyes briefly. Then he spoke, voice hoarse and barely audible. "I told them. They asked about Neminora. I told them everything they wanted to know."
"Good."
"G-good?"
"If you hadn't, they would have hurt you even worse than they did. Maybe even killed you."
"I betrayed you." Loki could barely hear him. "You don't care?"
"What can they do about it?" Loki shrugged. "Besides, you don't know anything critical. I'll bet they wanted to know about our flyers and weapons."
"Yes." Sid actually smiled, wobbly and dark with bitterness. "Bastards."
"Who did this to you?"
"You did." Sid's eyelashes fluttered. He seemed in danger of falling asleep again. "Fucker."
Loki straightened. "I saved your life, you ungrateful rat! How was I to know you were in such danger from your own kind?"
But there was no answer. Sid was asleep. Loki went off to find the physician.
"Move him? Where?"
"The Academy."
"It would be better to leave him here. Our facilities are designed for his kind..."
"I don't like the security," replied Loki. "Arrange something."
As expected, the professor did so, however reluctantly. A skid was brought around, jerry-rigged with a canvas tent. It smelled of dirty humans and, Loki was informed, usually served to transport sick cattle to the clinic. He kept his mouth shut and pretended not to care, depriving the physician of even a small bit of satisfaction. Teeth clenched against the bumpy ride, Loki sat with his unconscious slave as the vehicle rode through the rain into the main city and down through a great opening in the cliff-tops to the Labyrinth.
The provost of the Academy was there to meet him.
"It's good to see you again, Your Highness," gushed Shelke. "We received your communique and have opened the archives for you. I have several of our most promising fellows available to assist you in your research."
"Delighted to hear it," said Loki. "Be careful with him!"
"I've taken the liberty of preparing your old suite," continued the provost.
Loki wondered indifferently who had been ejected to make room for him. He followed the provost from the great open-skied atrium, through a soaring archway and into a well-lit tunnel. Fans and heaters banished the damp at once. Rainwater falling into the tunnels vanished into pipes beneath the flagged-stone floors. Sid's silent attendants wheeled the transport gurney into the elevator, staring around in wonder.
The dormitories were on the ninth level. They surrounded another atrium, this one smaller, the open space above covered by glass. A waterfall tumbled down one wall into a pool upon which brightly colored water-lilies floated. Ferns and vines festooned the wet rock on either side of the cascade. Benches were set around the edges of the pool. A handful of students were gathered there, some reading, others talking in low voices. They stared as Loki's procession crossed the space and went into one of the residential suites.
Four spacious rooms, two with windows onto the ocean, showed signs of being hastily vacated and cleaned.
"Put him on the daybed in the sitting room," Loki ordered. "Leave the luggage. I'll unpack later."
They withdrew, bowing, and Loki was finally alone with Sid. He stood a moment in the small entranceway, absorbing its familiarity. The framed pictures were different, as was the incidental table by the door, but everything else was the same. Four years he'd spent in these rooms, the last of Angelus Sviatoslav's children to be educated here and one of an ever-dwindling number of ilthiyan students. With fewer children born each cycle, there might even come a day when the Academy ceased to exist.
Loki unpacked his bags. Checking the domestic link panel, he saw a number of invitations already in the queue. Only one, from the provost, required any action on his part. He responded, postponing the suggested dinner on the excuse that his business required immediate attention.
He sent a notice to the archivist, warning her to expect him within the hour and to prepare to give him access to the oldest stacks. The response came back at once, a tribute to the speed at which information still traveled through the Academy's insular community.
He showered and changed into something comfortable and informal. Sid continued to sleep, but his color was good, his breathing deep and even. Setting the lock against anyone else going in or out of the apartment, Loki went off to the archives.
The library was in the deepest part of the Labyrinth, far from the many caves and underground streams permeating the cliffs. Temperature-controlled, dehumidified, its natural caves had been blasted into uniform size, forming a grid, each filled with row upon row of steel data towers. In the center of the grid was a large reading room filled with individual, sound-proofed cubicles and overseen by the master archivist whose office sat atop a large platform, giving her an unimpeded view of the area.
"Your Highness!" She greeted him at the door, a small, dark-haired woman with blue eyes turning pink at the edges of the irises. Old, although not a Wanderer. "I'm Dr. Frensce, Director of Library Sciences."
He bowed over her hand, murmuring something appropriate. The place was very quiet, only the distance whir of the ventilation fans audible.
"We don't ordinarily open the primary archives," she told him, ushering him into the room, "but naturally, we'll waive the usual security procedures in your case."
"I suppose Neminora sent the proper credentials?"
She nodded. "I've prepared your former cube for you, Your Highness."
"Who's been using it lately?" Loki asked, curious.
"The young marquess, Lord Vail."
Son of an earl. Not one of the Neminoran court. Loki wondered if Lord Vail resented being evicted from his prime apartment and cubicle.
The cube was outfitted with two large screens, several state-of-the-art private readers, a desk, two aides' stools, and very comfortable reading chair.
"We have a couple of promising students who could serve as assistants, if you wish."
Loki shook his head. "I think not, Dr. Frensce, but I'll certainly let you know if I change my mind. If you could direct me toward the appropriate stacks?"
"Keep in mind that the very oldest data is no longer kept on-world," she said, starting toward the north end of the reading room. "Still, I think our collection is more than adequate, containing the summaries of all surveys and research projects conducted after landfall."
"Not kept on-world?"
"No. The earliest data was removed to the archives on the Reifu, Your Highness. Nothing of real importance, of course. Mostly raw data that are summarized in articles and books here on Gaia."
She produced a code-key, opening the door. They walked through long rows of dat-towers to the back and another door. This one required both her code-key and a retina-scan.
"I'll see that your information is entered into the security clearance file," she said. "After today, you won't need me to get in here."
"Thank you, Dr. Frensce."
She smiled and left him alone, facing a room shadowed and gloomy. He started in and, at once, lights flared to life. His task lay before him, five rows of silver cabinets taller than he was. With a deep sigh, Loki went to the first one and called up its directory.
Levels 14-27 are restricted to personnel having Grade 5 clearance. Levels 1-13 are under lockdown. Please refer to Amendment 109B.3 for access to all remod facilities. Directives are in place until further notice.
J. Longovar,
Acting Director, Engineering, 0910ITC/1456UTC
Ask nothing of Gaia, sinner, and be not disappointed.
At the Lady Jess Foundling Home, those words had been painted over the door to the dining hall. Reading was a skill not to be wasted on the unwanted. Even so, the house-mistress and her small staff made certain the young inmates had those words burned into their impressionable little minds.
The clanless had no right to ask anything of life. Even life itself was more than they deserved, taken as it was from Gaia without Her permission or blessing. Sid knew that, but he'd never been able to accept it. Always he'd fought his fate, first by running away from the home, then by embarking on a life distinguished only by its remarkable succession of failure and disasters. Over and over, Gaia had shown him the truth of Jessahana's way and yet, fool that he was, he'd refused to see it. Always he'd railed against Her judgment. And, like the veriest idiot, each blow dealt him, worse than the one before, failed to convince him of the truth.
Well -- he was finally convinced.
He'd always thought it unfair that the sins of the parents be visited upon the children, but now he was no longer so sure. In the cellar of the nameless Home, his mind fragmented by pain and terror, he'd seen death as a refuge, had welcomed it, had eagerly reached out for it.
And, as the old saying warned, he'd been disappointed.
Sid lay in the strange bed, looking across the strange room out a window down which rain streamed endlessly. Death, he realized now, was the one mercy Gaia held out for him and it was not to be his yet. Not until he had atoned for the sins of his unknown, faceless parents, sinners whose lust had begat him.
Rolling over, he burrowed deep into the smooth, cool sheets of this, his newest bed. All of this luxury surely meant he was back in Loki's hands.
Accept it. It's Gaia's will.
Sid's throat tightened. He buried his face in the pillow, breathing in the smell of lavender and laundry soap, trying not to let the bitter tears come to the surface. Why should he fight against being a vampire's slave? At least he had some value to Loki, if only as an instrument of pleasure. He was treated with careless kindness so long as he pleased his master. His own people had shown him time and again what to expect from them!
"You're awake?"
Sid lifted his head. The prince stood in the doorway, dark and handsome, one eyebrow lifted quizzically.
It's Gaia's will.
Sid slid from the bed and, on his knees, bent forward. The floor was cool against his forehead. He felt the muscles of his back stretch as he reached forward, crossing his wrists.
There was a long silence, then, "Get up." Loki's voice was odd, subdued.
Apprehension touched Sid, but he obeyed at once, looking up at his master. Loki's jaw was tight and something like anger lurked in his grey eyes. Sid's apprehension deepened.
"I suppose you've got no clothes?"
Sid shook his head. His heart beat with painful force. The note of displeasure brought an expectation of violence and he began to shiver.
But Loki turned away, disappearing into the next room, leaving Sid sweating on his knees. The ilthiya's low voice reached him, indistinct, speaking to someone else. When he returned, Sid had recovered most of his composure.
"Get up," said Loki. "It irritates me to see you groveling down there."
Sid scrambled to his feet and stood awkwardly, not sure what to do next. All the while, the fear nibbled at his thoughts, the certainty that, at any moment, Loki would strike out at him. This time, however, Sid recognized the fear for what it was and with that recognition came a flood of memories. He gasped, stumbling back several steps. The back of his knees hit the edge of his bed and he sat down hard.
"What is it?" asked Loki, frowning.
Blows coming from everywhere. Voices shouting at him. No hope of escape.
Suddenly, there was a strong arm around him. A quiet voice above him murmured words he didn't catch and on which he couldn't focus. The tone came through, however, banishing the overwhelming panic. Sid drew in breath after shaking breath as it receded.
"Damn them." Loki said. "It's all right, Sid. You're with me. They'll not get their hands on you again, I swear."
And who will protect me from you?
But anything Loki wanted from him, Sid could easily give. Not like Maxton, who'd demanded the impossible. Sid's breathing steadied.
A chime broke the silence. Loki rose and went into the next room. Sid heard a door open and the murmur of voices. When the ilthiya returned, he had an armful of clothing.
"Get dressed," he said. "I've ordered some food. When you've eaten, we'll start work."
Work? Sid took the clothes, holding them tight to his chest. Loki turned and went back into the other room, leaving him alone.
The clothing was ordinary, neither a uniform, like his garments in Neminora, nor the flimsy, suggestive things he'd worn in the brothel. There was hose of fine, dark red wool, a white tunic and soft slippers made of brushed leather. Once dressed, he felt less vulnerable. The knot in his stomach loosened a bit. His hair was getting long, brushing his shoulders. He ran his fingers through the tousled locks.
In the other room, the sound of someone at the door drew him away from the mirror. A human boy stood there, handing Loki a tray. Delicious smells filled the room. Sid's mouth watered and, when Loki set the tray down on a table, he needed no urging to come and sit down. Even the sight of the prince sipping at his own glass of red liquid couldn't put Sid off his appetite.
"When you went through the language conversion process, I added the capability to read ilthiyan," said Loki. "With luck, it took as well as the spoken language did."
Sid, wiping gravy from his plate with the last bit of bread, looked up, surprised. "Read?" he asked. "Like -- books?"
"Yes. You can read, can't you? Your own language?"
"No." Sid covered his embarrassment by pulling over the pot of pudding.
"I thought all Gaian children learned to read."
Not the clanless. He shrugged, not looking at Loki.
"How -- how did you find me?"
"The tracer chemical. It was still in your blood, luckily."
The prince had looked for him? Sid lifted his eyes to Loki's face, astonished.
Loki, however, did not linger on the subject. "It doesn't matter. I found you and now you can be of help to me. I'm looking for any information I can find on the Knights of Jessahana. What do you know of them?"
"Aren't they just a legend?"
"Maybe." Loki reached into his jacket, pulling out a folded bit of paper. Opening it, he set down on the table in front of Sid. The design drawn on it was familiar.
"That," said the prince, "is the insignia of the Knights of Jessahana. It was left behind on the body of the slave they killed in the Iris Garden. I knew I'd seen it before, but just recently remembered where. It was the clan mark of the Men who attacked us at the anamoline monitoring station."
Sid stared at it, open-mouthed. Was Loki talking about Maxton? He shook his head. "I've always heard the Knights were disbanded after the war," he said. "The Sage Council declared them heretical and outlawed them."
"Yes, that's what we heard, as well. It seems a strange end for Jessahana's elite guards."
"They strayed from the teachings," said Sid automatically. "Besides, Jessahana had been dead for years. None of the Knights alive then had ever actually known her."
Loki nodded, taking back the drawing and restoring it to his inside jacket pocket. "So Maxton and his friends may just be ordinary thugs."
Sid didn't want to think about Maxton. He didn't want to think about the nightmare of pain and humiliation. "He had friends among the sages," he said finally. His throat was tight. "After we left Armistice, we hid in a Home and a Gold sage came to talk to him."
Loki was silent a moment. "Are you ready to talk about that?" he asked.
Startled, Sid tilted his head, regarding the ilthiya with bewilderment. He'd simply assumed they'd taken his story from him already, while he'd been unconscious, using some incomprehensible ilthiyan technology. He swallowed hard.
"My father deemed it too sensitive to mount an open search in human territory for the men who attacked the Garden. If however, these so-called Knights are more than just some fringe outlaw group -- if they have allies on the Gold Council -- he will look at the matter differently."
Sid nodded and took a deep breath. The rest of his supper forgotten, he told Loki everything that had happened to him since encountering Maxton in the brothel. Loki listened without interruption. When Sid had finished, he said nothing, looking thoughtful.
"You're sure it was a Gold sage?"
"No one else is allowed to wear that color," replied Sid.
"Interesting, indeed," murmured the ilthiya. "That should liven things up back in Neminora."
"Where are the books?" asked Sid, looking down the long room at the dat-towers. "Are they in those cabinets?"
"Yes." Loki went to the closest. "So to speak. Come here. I'll show you how it works."
Sid came, brow furrowed. Loki resisted the urge to kiss away the confusion and activated the directory screen.
It had been hard to keep his hands off the youth since Sid had, with such devastating grace, prostrated himself before Loki in the bedroom. In fact, Loki couldn't understand what was holding him back. Sid was still his slave; he could do whatever he wanted to the boy. Whether or not Sid liked it was completely irrelevant. And yet...
"Can you read that?" he asked, distantly marveling at the steadiness of his voice.
The Man's frown deepened, then vanished. Sid's eyes widened and a look of awe came over his face. "Directory A: Human, Biological."
"Excellent. Do you know what it means?"
"I -- I think so. It's a study of people, but from the point of view of their -- their bodies?"
"Good enough. And we don't want this one. We want 'Human, Historical'. You take that row, I'll take this one."
Sid was off, all hesitation gone. Loki saw the faint flashes of light move up the row of towers as he activated each directory. Grinning, the prince strolled along his own set more slowly. Six units up, he found it -- or, rather, them. There were two towers devoted to the subject.
"That one is yours," he said, showing Sid how to activate the subdirectories. "Look for any reference to the Knights, even in passing. If a title looks like its article may contain that information, note that, as well. When you find something, touch this part of the screen. It will ask you which cubicle to send the information. This is the number. Don't worry too much about whether you're right or wrong. We'll sort it out later."
"I don't understand. This directory has hundreds of titles. Are all those books in here?"
Loki stared at him a moment, then grinned. "Yes, in a manner of speaking. They've all been reduced to just their words. I'll explain someday, if you like, but for now, just search the titles and do as I say."
Sid nodded, still frowning. Once again, Loki resisted the urge to grab him, to push him up against one of the cabinets and kiss him breathless. With super-ilthiyan strength, he turned his attention to his task.
In spite of his distraction, Loki soon became engrossed in his task. As a student at the Academy not so many years ago, he'd thought his education in human culture to be more complete than most. Here, however, in the restricted stacks, he discovered a wealth of information not available in the main library.
By the time he reached the end of the subdirectories in his tower, he had sent nearly three hundred separate articles and surveys to his cubicle. Sid was only halfway through his and looking a bit stretched.
"That's enough for today," Loki said, taking pity on him. "Go back to our rooms and get some rest. I'll look in on you later."
Sid nodded and, with a wistful look over his shoulder at his unfinished work, traipsed out of the stacks.
Loki walked him back to the suite, leaving him at the door. He allowed himself a brief caress of the youth's dark red hair and was unable to miss the flinch. Letting his hand fall back, he managed a smile. "I'll see you later," he said. "Get some sleep."
Back in his reading cubicle, Loki was tempted to forego his historical material for some human psychology. He remembered vaguely that their psyches could be damaged by severe trauma. Over the years, for instance, it had required a careful breeding program to eventually decrease both intelligence and emotional reactivity in the ilthiyan food herds. Now herd members could witness the slaughter of their fellows without panicking into a stampede.
Sid, however, was not cattle. It was possible his ordeal with Maxton had somehow thrown him into a state of constant fear. Loki didn't like the idea. He didn't want the boy becoming hysterical each time Loki wanted to make love. On the other hand, Sid was no stranger to the hard life. Perhaps it was something that would pass given some time and a little space.
Loki decided to treat Sid gently for the next few days and make no sexual demands upon him. With plenty of food, rest and intellectual stimulation, the Man would surely calm down. His mind made up, Loki forced himself to focus on his task and turned on his reader.
Midway through his tenth article, and little the wiser, he was distracted by a blinking red light in the corner of his screen. It was the message alert. He switched over and found it was from Braxton Fenn. Surprised, he called it onto the screen. It was an invitation from the historian to meet for drinks at his club.
He could spare an hour or two. Loki closed out of the files and sent for a hired skip.
The Scholar's Retreat was in an old stone building perched on the edge of the cliffs, commanding a magnificent view of the sea. Fenn met him in the foyer, shaking his hand enthusiastically, and escorting him through a lounge full of staring ilthi academics to a smaller, more private study. The walls were covered with maps, some of them old and obviously human.
"This is quite a collection," Loki marveled, strolling around the room, examining them. "Where did you get them?"
"Some of them we traded for. That one we found in an abandoned Home." Fenn joined Loki by the framed map, handing him a glass of wine. "There's an old city near the eastern great plains. It's in ruins, one of the few abandoned settlements we've been able to find. That was among some debris in the cellars."
"How do you account for that?" asked Loki, sipping his drink. "The lack of ruins on this planet?"
"It's a puzzle," admitted Fenn. "The humans claim their goddess destroyed all the pre-Jessahana settlements, but we've found absolutely no evidence, not so much as a shard of pottery or a foundation stone more than three hundred years old."
"These ruins were the oldest you've found then?"
"Interestingly, no." Fenn pointed to the map and a small tower drawn at the edge of what were clearly the Reifu Mountains. "Actually, from what we've been able to ascertain, the oldest settlement on Gaia is the city of Penitence."
"Not Gaiastar?"
"No, although the capitol is old by human standards. Penitence is not large and doesn't seem to be very important, but it does have a decent sized agricultural market and a Home of some repute."
"It's proximity to the seismic zone may have limited its value."
"A good guess." Fenn turned away, retreating to a comfortable-looking sofa. "I'm very interested in your own thesis, Your Highness. The notion that the human's breeding laws might have a more sophisticated goal is an intriguing one."
Loki shrugged, taking an armchair across from the historian.
"Most researchers believe the system is political or arbitrary, that permissions to marry are based solely on the petitioners social status or connections."
"I can see why one would arrive at that conclusion. Yet doesn't it seem strange to you that a society can remain essentially static for three hundred years? Where are the visionaries? The inventors? The poets and artists who push the boundaries?"
"I can agree that some of the purpose behind it is maintaining low population numbers, given the human reverence for nature, but breeding out curiosity and creativity? That would suggest the Sages have knowledge of genetics. There's no evidence for that."
"A weakness in my thesis, as was pointed out by my degree committee," agreed Loki. "But then, there is an entire section of their priesthood devoted to "marriage precepts." As yet, we've been unable to get our hands on more than a few of these materials. All of them, I might add, are directly attributed to the First Sage"
Fenn frowned. "I admit, I'm not familiar with them."
"You might find them interesting," said Loki. "Only the words of Jessahana herself have never been subjected to revision. Yet, for all that, only a handful of her works remain generally available to the humans. Odd, isn't it?"
The two ilthi regarded each other thoughtfully.
"About those ruins near the plains," said Loki. "Is it true we attacked them during the war?"
"It is. Although the military put the operation under proscription status, it was generally assumed the place was the headquarters for the Knights. All information about them in ilthi reports ceases after that time."
"Then it would seem the military was correct."
"Not so fast." Fenn smiled. "In human writings, we continue to see references to Knight activity."
"Maybe it's just wishful thinking -- humans attributing Knight actions to other guerrilla operations."
"It could, but these reports are very specific, describing the advanced weaponry used by these men -- weaponry they almost certain did not get from us."
Loki remembered the beam rifle in Maxton's hands.
"I'm wallowing in the restricted, primary archive this next week," he said finally. "I'll send you my notes.
"I'd like that," said Fenn with a delighted smile.
Go with the seasons, with Gaia's moods. In spring, when She wakes, nurture Her newborn. In summer, guide their path. In autumn, prepare for their ending and in winter sleep.
from, The Faithful Farmer
Sid lay still, listening to the ilthiya's even breathing and tried to make sense of his feelings. Loki hadn't touched him. When the prince had come to bed, Sid had lain stiffly, expecting Loki to demand his services. Yet Loki had simply rolled over and gone to sleep.
He was relieved -- wasn't he?
What if Loki no longer wanted him? What is he was tiring of Sid? Once, the notion would have filled Sid with hope; now it terrified him. The nightmare of Maxton and his friends hovered always at the edge of Sid's awareness. So, too, did the lesser miseries of living alone and friendless among the clans. Maybe life with Loki wasn't perfect, but it wasn't any worse than it had been before and, in some respects, it was better. Rather like being a pampered pet was better than being a stray dog.
He levied himself up on one elbow, looking down on the sleeping vampire. Black hair lay scattered over the pillow, shining like spilled ink. The straight line of Loki's jaw, the elegant curve of his neck -- Sid's heart beat a little faster. He leaned forward and put his lips against it, tasting the smoky sweetness of the ilthiya's flesh.
Loki stirred, murmuring in his sleep, the corners of his mouth curving upwards. Encouraged, Sid kissed a line down the long throat to tongue the hollow at its base. Loki groaned softly, turning his head. Cascades of midnight silk slid down the pillow.
The ilthiya's nipple stiffened under Sid's tongue. Sid began to suck on it, pulling hard, nipping it gently with his teeth. His memories of how Loki had treated his own body guided him.
"Ah!"
A hand descended on Sid's head and held him still. Loki sat up, pulling Sid with him. Those enigmatic, inhuman eyes searched his.
"This is a surprise."
Sid pulled away, fastening his lips on Loki's, opening his mouth as he pressed his body against the prince. He felt Loki's response, quick and hard. Loki's tongue pushed against his lips and Sid opened his mouth, submitting to the invasion. When the ilthiya released him, he was breathless and no longer in control. His head fell back, eyes fluttering closed. He held tightly to Loki's broad shoulders as the ilthiya kissed his throat and the curve of his shoulder.
"Pleasure me," whispered Loki, gently prying him away.
Sid folded over, mouth opening again, accepting the thick, long cock thrusting up at him. Loki's groan spurred him on, licking and sucking, his fingers caressing the ilthiya's testicles.
It happened so quickly, he barely had time to register it; Loki pulled him away, lifting him and pulling him close again. Sid gasped, eyes flying open. Pain, sharp and vivid, cut into his neck. Terror blanked his vision, but only for a heartbeat. It faded almost immediately, replaced by warmth and a wonderful sense of well-being.
Sid groaned, reaching up to let his fingers tangle in Loki's warm, dark hair. He leaned his head against Loki's while the vampire fed. Each pull tightened the feeling in Sid's loins. He opened his knees, sliding up onto Loki's leg, pushing himself hard against that muscular thigh. This time, it was Loki who groaned, sinking his teeth deeper into Sid's flesh and drawing harder at his life.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, Loki pulled away with a whispered curse.
"Sid!"
Dizzy, body singing, Sid could only smile dreamily. "Please," he whispered. "More!"
Loki's face was a study, then he smiled. "Nothing would please me more."
Did I actually say that? Sid wondered. To the prince? Am I mad? A part of his mind was appalled, but it was just a tiny voice against the waves of pleasure rolling through him.
Loki picked him up and laid him down on the bed. He kissed Sid -- long, lingering kisses that left Sid gasping. The ilthiya's lips and tongue moved over his body, going everywhere, it seemed; flicking against his nipples, teasing the hollow of his throat.
All the while, Sid caressed Loki's hair, loving the silky feel of it as it slipped through his fingers. When Loki suddenly bit into a nipple, he cried out, back arching, fingers tightening. Loki sucked fiercely, the pulling going straight to Sid's groin. He cried out and heard himself plead for Loki not to stop.
Loki did stop, however, trailing kisses down his belly. Eagerly, Sid opened his legs, shivering as Loki caressed his thighs. When the ilthiyath tongued his cock, Sid sobbed aloud, thrusting his hips upwards. "Please!" he babbled. "Please, please, please! Oh, Jess, Loki! Take me! Please!"
Who was this wanton begging to be used? What demon had entered him, turning him into this slut?
"Loki," he whispered.
Loki rolled him over. Strong and gentle, he stroke Sid's buttocks while Sid rubbed himself against the sheets, desperately wanting Loki to come into him, to fill him up, to find that spot deep inside that would shatter the dreadful wanting building up inside him.
The hands stopped. A finger, slick and cool, touched the opening to his body.
And suddenly, it all fell apart. The warmth, the lust, the need shattered under a black wave of terror. It burgeoned up through the beautiful haze, scattering the light and the joy, plunging Sid into a gaping abyss that dragged him down into its bowels and wouldn't let go.
"Sid! Sid!"
The voice reached him after an eternity of chaos. Sid knelt on the floor beside the bed, retching violently. Cold sweat drenched his naked skin and he couldn't breathe.
Voices echoed around him.
Scum! Slut! Offal! Whore! Worthless dog!
He tried desperately to fix on something, reaching for the one familiar voice among the others. The only one that wasn't cursing at him.
"SID!"
Something cold stung his hip. For a moment, his chest felt tight and hot. Then the terror ebbed. His helpless heaving eased. An arm came around him, lifting him off the floor. The voices echoed back and forth.
"Loki?" he whispered, his lips struggling to form the name.
"I'm here."
The beautiful face filled his vision. Like a starry night. Sid wondered how something so dark could be so bright.
"They won't hurt you. They aren't here. It's only me. Only me."
Sid nodded. The panic was gone. He felt light and empty. Loki was there. He was safe. His eyelids, heavy, fluttered and closed. The last thing he remembered was Loki stroking his hair and murmuring words he no longer understood.
Once again, Loki had a bottle of blood wine in front of him and the earnest desire for oblivion. His apartment was finally quiet. The physician from Fenn's department had been summoned. After administering a powerful sedative to Sid, he had presumed to lecture to Loki
"Obviously, judging from his injuries, your slave endured the most brutal torture. The psyches of wild humans are much more fragile than their bodies. You should not have forced him to serve you so soon."
Loki tossed off the first glass of wine and poured another. He hadn't forced himself on the brat. Sid had practically raped him! What the hell? Besides, he'd bitten Sid, flooded the Man's system with kharizmine. Not on purpose, of course. Loki grimaced in embarrassment, remembering. Still, it should have overwhelmed any fear or pain.
Shelke had been simultaneously anxious, obsequious, and appalled. Medics had come and gone, and each time the door opened, Loki had seen students piled up outside, straining for a look at all the fuss.
He hadn't been here more than twenty-four hours before he'd attained notoriety, thought Loki, sloshing wine into his glass. It was amazing how that happened.
Loki thought of Maxton. The anger boiling inside him grew hotter. It was all that bastard's fault! What he really wanted to do was hunt the animal down and put him through the same misery he'd inflicted on poor Sid. Angelus would never sit still for that, however. Loki smiled bitterly, imagining his father's response to the idea of avenging a slave.
And why am I even thinking about it? I have work to do. On orders of the king.
Loki set down his glass and rose, but instead of heading for the door and the library, he went to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway, he looked across the room at the sleeping Sid. The young man's face was relaxed; the tranquilizer had him firmly in its grip. He would be out for the next twelve hours or so. Loki turned around and left.
Students crowded the library. The soft buzz of their conversation died at his entrance. Dozens of pairs of eyes followed covertly as he strode through the reading room to his cubicle. Once behind its sheltering walls, he forced himself to focus on his task, sifting through hundreds of articles, essays and data files for mention of the mysterious Knights of Jessahana.
After awhile, he again found himself drawn into his research, increasingly struck by the paucity of information. He found references to the Knights, of course, but most was just speculation on their post-war fate. There was a bit of earlier history, but only as much as was necessary to provide context to the later information.
Loki did find vague references to a Home. It was identified as being on the edge of the great, grassy plain. Fenn's ruined city.
After several hours, Loki's eyes began to cross from all the fine print on the screen. He switched over to audio, but the reader's voice annoyed him. Abandoning it altogether, Loki braved the stares of the curious, leaving his cubicle and returning to his room.
Sid was still asleep, curled on his side, cheek resting on one hand. Loki collapsed into a chair and closed his eyes. It would be daylight in a few hours. He should return to the library and continue his research, but he didn't move. The room was quiet; the gentle sound of Sid's breathing restful and comforting. Loki's head fell back against the chair. A moment later, he, too, was asleep.
Sid woke slowly, like swimming up from the bottom of a deep, warm, crystal-clear pool. Lamplight glowed against his eyelids and he was cocooned in warmth. Memories returned in bits and pieces.
Loki!
A rush of panic and shame propelled Sid upright in the bed, heart pounding. Looking wildly around, he saw the room was empty. Pale light gleamed through the cracks in the shutters. It was day.
After a few minutes, when the silence persisted, he risked getting out of the bed. Dizzy, he had to cling to the bedpost until the room stopped spinning. Then he crept across the room and peeked out through the half-opened door. The sitting room was empty, too. Uncertain, he retreated to the bed.
Was he in trouble? The longer he sat, the more vivid became his memories. Dear Jess! He'd gone mad! The prince must be furious! Trembling, he pulled the covers up to this chin.
But as he sat, worrying, he noticed a covered tray on the bedside table. Inside was a sandwich and a bottle of water. Beside the tray was a piece of paper, bold handwriting scrawled on it:
Sid,
When you wake, eat, then join me in the library.
L.
Sid regarded it in consternation. It didn't sound angry. Making up his mind, he tossed the covers aside and jumped out of bed again. There was no point in making the bad worse. Taking huge bites of the sandwich, he found clothing in the big wardrobe and hastily dressed. When he opened the door, however, it was to find another human sitting on the floor outside. The boy scrambled to his feet, regarding Sid with open curiosity.
"You're Sid?"
Sid nodded, mouth full.
"I'm supposed to bring you to His Highness. Follow me."
The boy was talkative. "How long have you belonged to the prince? Is he kind? Have you been to Neminora?"
Sid answered in monosyllables, getting more nervous the closer they got to the library. He could not help noticing the way the few ilthiyan students they passed stared at him.
Fortunately, being morning, the library was nearly deserted. The boy left him at the door, watching with eager curiosity as Sid headed toward the reading room.
Sid found the prince hunched over the reading screen, chin propped on one lean hand. He hovered at the entrance to the cubicle for a moment before Loki looked up. For a moment, Sid's heart stopped beating, but Loki just smiled in a friendly way.
"Go finish your search of the stacks," said the ilthiya. "I doubt if you'll find anything else, but we might as well be thorough."
Stunned, Sid did as he was told. Inside the restricted archive, he leaned against his dat-tower, shivering in reaction. He was covered in cold sweat.
What's wrong with me? Loki isn't Maxton. He's not angry!
But what if the vampire was only biding his time? What if he was only waiting for Sid to finish his work before venting his anger?
"Sid?"
With a gasp, Sid looked up. Somehow, he had ended up on the floor, back to the tower. He stared mutely at Loki.
The vampire sighed and, to Sid's astonishment, sat down in front of him. The sight of a prince of the ilthi sitting cross-legged on the floor jerked Sid out of his frozen state.
"I -- I'm sorry," whispered Sid. "Please...don't hurt me."
"I have no intention of hurting you," replied Loki, calm as could be.
"But...I ... we ..."
Loki sighed. "You're human," he said. "And I can't say I understand everything about you, but I understand you were badly treated by Maxton and his comrades. Even ilthi can be traumatized by torture, Sid. We have records of such things from the war when our people fell into the hands of yours. It's true we were not so easily broken, but that doesn't mean it never happened."
Broken? Was that what had happened? Sid stared down at his hands. They shook.
"You aren't going to get rid of me? Or punish me?"
"No." Loki's voice was very soft.
Slowly, the panicked racing of Sid's heart began to slow. "Why not?"
Loki sighed again. He smiled, a crooked, self-deprecating grin. "Who knows? I like you? Maybe Thorne is right. Maybe we are bound in rhora."
"I'm a slave. Only human. Why should you put up with me?" Sid's throat was tight.
"Good question." A teasing note crept into the ilthiyath's deep voice. "When you haven't even finished your search."
Sid hung his head. "Sorry," he whispered again.
Loki's hand settled briefly on his shoulder, then lifted his chin. "You're safe with me," he said, looking deadly serious. "You are not going back to the brothels. From now on, you stay by my side. If the pain inside you is too much, tell me. We have medicines that will ease it for awhile, until you can bear it yourself."
Sid could think of nothing else to say. He tried to be comforted by Loki's words, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind still shrieked and gibbered in fear. Nevertheless, he managed a smile and, with Loki's help, got back to his feet. The ilthiya left him alone again and, this time, he was able to resume his search through the tower's subdirectories.
Gradually, the niggling sense of dread faded and Sid began to take interest in his work again. Dutifully, he sent Loki anything promising. It wasn't long before he completed his search.
"Are you tired?" Loki asked when he returned to the cubicle.
Sid shook his head. It was Loki who looked tired. Surely they were well into the day.
"Would you like to go back to our rooms?"
"Not really. Is it all right if I stay here and read?"
"Yes, but you'll have to restrict yourself to the general archives."
Sid nodded. He sat down on his stool. Loki leaned over and touched a control. A smaller screen on the counter in front of Sid came on.
"This will call up the general directory. Touch the entry you're interested in and the subdirectory will appear."
Loki returned to his reading. Sid, curious, peered at his screen and was startled to see it covered with print that made no sense. Was it some other ilthiyan language? He stared hard, but could make neither head nor tail of the text. Finally, he gave up and returned his attention to his own list, scrolling through it slowly. He was astonished at how much there was. Screen after screen passed under his wondering gaze. Then his eye was caught by a word and he stopped. A quick glance sideways showed Loki engrossed in his own screen. Surreptitiously, Sid touched the entry: Irthi, An Overview.
The journey must end. Our survival depends upon it. Our home, if it ever existed, surely does so no longer. We have wandered for hundreds of years, losing our past as our vessel rots and our vitality as hope fades. We have a chance now to stop, to walk once more on solid earth and breathe the wind. This "misfortune" against which we struggle so furiously is nothing of the sort. It is Fate's message to us. Stop. Stay. A new home awaits.
Council Minutes, 0951ITC/1521UTC
Rebuttal
Addendum submitted by: Ellis, Sviatoslav, Dannish and Dare
"Prince Loki?"
Loki started, head jerking up. He blinked at Sid, who watched him with a twinkle in his dark eyes.
"You fell asleep."
"Oh." Loki looked around, muzzy and bewildered. What time was it?
"I think you should get some real sleep," said the Man, rising. "Come on."
"Need to finish this."
"You will, but not if you keep falling asleep on the screen. Come!"
"Impertinent brat," muttered the prince, but he was amused by the Man's stern manner and obediently got up, allowing Sid to take his arm and steer him through the empty reading room and out into the Academy's deserted corridors.
It was late. Only humans were about, watching the two of them pass with astonishment. Loki's limbs were heavy, his mind sluggish. Sid was right. It was foolish to pull an all-dayer. He couldn't remember anything he'd read in the past few hours.
He fell into the bed, mumbling as Sid hauled off his boots. When he felt the Man's hands on his belt, he sat up. "I can do it myself," he growled.
Sid promptly retreated, hunkering down near the bed and looking away as Loki stripped and lay back down.
"Come here," Loki said, pulling up the blankets. He saw Sid's face and imagined it was pale with fear. "Don't worry. I only want to feel your warmth beside me. Humans are so...warm..."
After a moment, Sid rose and shed his own clothing. He climbed into the bed beside Loki and lay very still. Loki yawned and pulled him close. Sid stiffened. "Relax," Loki mumbled into his hair. "I'm too tired to want anything but sleep."
True to his word, Loki was asleep a moment later. When he woke again, the room was dark and Sid slept nestled beside him, relaxed, breathing deeply and evenly. Loki was tempted to wake him with pleasure, but the danger of Sid becoming hysterical kept him from any such foolishness. Instead, he slipped carefully from the bed and rang for breakfast.
By the time it arrived, Sid was awake and rustling around the bedroom. He emerged, tousled and still yawning, falling into the chair to which Loki pointed. Mumbling a good evening, he set to his food with single-minded concentration. Loki finished his drink, reading through his morning correspondence in a leisurely fashion.
Unlike Neminora, where domestic communiques were sparse, the Academy link disgorged dozens of notices, invitations and announcements. Most were aimed at the general population, but a few specifically invited High Highness to attend this or that lecture or reception. Loki sent polite refusals to each one, mindful of time slipping away.
"If you don't know what the irthi look like, how do you know they even exist?"
Startled, he looked up. Sid, elbows on the table, watched him with a thoughtful expression. "I read a lot of stuff yesterday, but there was never any description. Only texts about how terrible they were and how they hunted you ilthi all across the heavens."
"There are a lot of us who don't believe in them," replied Loki. "And if they did exist, our people left them behind long ago in our Wandering."
"Where do the ilthi come from?"
Loki lifted an eyebrow. "Curious this morning?"
Sid shrugged. "Some of the things I read talked about a home world. Does that mean the stars?"
"Yes. In a manner of speaking." Loki set down his empty glass. "According to our legends, there was a time when we lived on a world, probably a lot like this one."
"Why did you leave it?"
"Some say the irthi came and forced us to flee."
"They must have been very powerful."
"If they exist, and if those legends are true, yes."
"Well, what other reason would you have for leaving your world?"
"There are some who say our Home became overpopulated, forcing us to leave in search of another. Other scholars speculate that some kind of natural disaster made the world unliveable. Who knows? We Wandered for so long, many things became lost in time."
"Originally, you see, there were six great starships, but over the centuries, all but ours failed or were destroyed. A lot of our data was stored on those other ships, so when they were gone, so was much of our history."
Sid was quiet for a long moment. "What is it like?" he asked finally. "Your star ship?"
"I don't know," replied Loki. "I've never seen it."
"But..."
"When it was decided that Gaia would be our new home, the Wanderers stripped the ship of everything useful and brought it all down here. What's left is up there, an empty shell circling the planet. Someday, its orbit will decay and we'll see what looks like a shooting star." Loki paused, touched by an inexplicable sense of melancholy. "Then we will truly be of this world."
"Aren't you curious?"
"Sometimes," replied Loki candidly. He and his slave stared at each other and, for Loki, there was an unexpected sense of shared understanding. He gave himself an inner shake. "But in the meantime, I have to find your damned Knights of Jessahana or my father will be most displeased. Back to work."
The night passed quickly. Loki and Sid carefully read through all the assembled articles, essays, charts and graphs. It might have gone even faster had not Sid interrupted Loki frequently for an explanation of this or that. The assimilator may have taught him to read, but it had not been as successful at imparting some of the higher level concepts. Even so, Loki noticed he had only to explain something once.
The day was not so easy. It was torture to lie beside Sid and not make love to him. Only the memory of the young Man's panic kept Loki's hands to himself. Patience, he told himself, would be rewarded.
The next evening, while Sid was off in the stacks running down an elusive reference, a shadow fell over Loki in his cubicle. He looked up, expecting Sid. It was Adrian Dare.
"What are you doing here?" Loki asked, not at all happy to see him. "It hasn't been a week."
"That's not why I'm here, as you very well know." Adrian's eyes were cold with fury. "Where's your human?"
"Ah. Got my message, did you?"
"I suppose it didn't occur to you that finding him might be of the utmost interest to us?"
"But you made no effort to search for him," Loki replied with his sweetest smile. "I simply assumed..."
"Stop it! I've had it with your fool facade! You know damned well searching for one human among the wild herds is usually pointless! If you'd bothered to inform us he had the tracer compound in him..." Adrian broke off and took a deep breath. "Where is he?"
"In the stacks, helping me with my research." Loki met Adrian's fulminating glare without flinching. "You have my full report of what he knows."
"I would prefer to question him myself."
"I'm sure you would. He belongs to me, however, and I am in no hurry to add to his trauma by giving him over to your clumsy hands." Loki's smile hardened.
"Your father may have something to say about that."
"I'm sure he will," Loki sighed. "And I have no objection to your questioning him again, Adrian, but not unless I'm present."
"What do you care? He's only a slave and not a particularly skilled one, at that."
"I'll be the judge of his value," replied Loki. "Now, if you don't mind, unless Father has changed his mind and wishes me to abandon my research, you're wasting my time."
"I'm here to bring the boy back to Neminora."
"Fine." Loki rose. "We'll be ready shortly."
Adrian's jaw was so tight, it looked like it might crack. Nor did it help that Sid chose that moment to return from the stacks, eyes alight.
"Loki! I found..."
Adrian whirled around, fixing the startled youth with his deadly glare. Sid shut his mouth with a snap, turning white.
"Ah, Sid." Loki beckoned. "You remember General Dare?"
"M-my lord," gulped Sid, edging around the stone-faced ilthiya to stand beside Loki.
Adrian, looking as if he'd eaten something foul, said only, "I'll be waiting for you at the Tarka airport."
Loki watched the general retreat, stiff-backed and radiating offense. Then he turned to Sid. "We're returning to Neminora," he said. "They will want to question you about your time with Maxton and his friends."
Sid's expression lurched from apprehension to panic. Loki reached out and took his hand. It was ice-cold. "I will be with you when they question you," he promised quietly. "And I will not let them hurt you."
"Promise?" whispered Sid, not looking reassured in the slightest.
"Yes," Loki replied rashly. "I promise."
"Will they torture me?"
Prince Loki's hand paused above the navigation board of his flyer. Sid saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.
"No," the ilthiya said shortly.
"What -- what if your father orders it?"
"He won't. There are better, more humane ways of teasing out information," replied Loki. "We aren't savages." He hesitated, then grinned ruefully. "Most of the time."
They were deep in the coastal cloud bank. Rain ran in sheets down the flyer windows and it was impossible to see the ocean below in the seething, boiling storm.
Sid tried not to worry, but he kept remembering the nightmare in the cellar of the Sanctuary.
"Would you like a tranquilizer?" Loki asked, looking sideways at him.
Sid shook his head, afraid of not having all his wits about him. Not that it would do any good. Once inside Neminora, he was caught like a rabbit in a snare.
"You won't leave me alone with them?" he asked in a small voice.
"I said I wouldn't."
But if the king so ordered, would the prince have the power to refuse? Sid doubted it, but he appreciated Loki's attempts to put him at ease.
Maybe, thought Sid, watching lightning turn the sky white, the flyer would crash into the ocean.
Unfortunately, it kept going, steady as a rock in spite of the visible turbulence. They came finally and abruptly upon the archipelago, misty lights scattered here and there beneath them. Too soon, Sid felt the flyer bank. An ilthiya's face appeared on the small view-screen.
"Welcome back, Your Highness. You're cleared to land."
Loki landed the craft on the rain-slick pad. Sid kept close to him, following him down the ramp and out into the storm, wind whipping at them, rain driving into their faces. Guards waited, a half-dozen of them or more, but when they moved toward Sid, Loki blocked their path. Taking Sid's arm, he gave the Man an encouraging smile and guided him across the causeway, up the slippery steps and into the sudden calm and dry of the old castle.
More guards awaited them. One of them, an officer, stepped forward, announcing his attention to take possession of Sid. Again, Loki refused.
"I must insist," the guard said, looking uncomfortable.
"Tell Kat she's not the king yet," snapped Loki. "Now, get out of my way."
Sid had to hurry to keep up with Loki's long strides. They passed through the bewildering maze of passages until suddenly, their surroundings began to look familiar. They had reached Prince Loki's quarters.
The prince opened his door and stopped short, cursing. Seated in a chair by the fire was his brother, the other prince. The latter rose, beaming.
"Loki! You're back! And this, I take it, is the wayward slave!"
"What are you doing in my room?" Loki strode on in. "FEMA!"
The steward appeared, bowing and looked apprehensive, as usual.
"I heard you found your slave. How fortunate!"
"I was," agreed Loki. "The tracer I injected last month was still present. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to clean up and change clothes."
"I thought we could talk," said Prince Alric, not moving. "I'm very curious about the lad's adventures. Is it true they were Knights? Actual Knights?"
"My report is for Father," said Loki shortly. "Leave!"
"Loki!" Alric adopted a wounded look. "Surely you could tell me! We brothers need to stick together." Then he frowned. "Did you already talk to Kat?"
"No!" Loki turned to Sid. "Go out onto the balcony and stay there until I tell you to come in."
Sid nodded fervently and went. Loki followed far enough to close the door after him. Sitting down under the overhang, just out of reach of the pouring rain, Sid's heart pounded as he listened to the muffled voices from inside the room. They sounded heated, but shortly it was quiet again.
The silence stretched on. Sid suspected he'd been forgotten. Suddenly the balcony door flew open again. He jumped up to face an agitated Fema.
"Come in! Hurry, you useless animal! Hurry!"
Sid was pulled, willy-nilly, back into the room. The force of Fema's tug sent him stumbling wildly across the floor.
"Idiot! His Majesty has sent for you! Take off those clothes! Put this on! Why can't anyone give me decent warning?"
Disoriented, blinking, Sid managed to hold on to the clothes the steward shoved at him. When the impatient ilthiya showed signs of stripping Sid himself, Sid yelped and pulled away, hastily taking off his crumpled garments.
The new clothes were very fine, indeed. Soft woolen hose, silk shirt and breeches, an embroidered vest and an exquisitely-tailored velvet coat. He was forced to stand still, gritting his teeth while Fema, alternately cursing him and the prince, dragged a comb through his hair until it approximated order. Almost before Sid could draw a proper breath, he was shoved out into the corridor where a guard awaited him.
They went outside. The rain had finally stopped, but the night was filled with a fine, cool mist. Lights hanging over the path illuminated the wet pavement as it wound around the curves of the hillside, up flights of steps and through the many small, walled gardens adorning the island. Higher they climbed until they reached a low gate half-hidden by the trailing branches of trees and shrubs. More guards stood there, hurrying to open it. On the other side, a different guard waited, wearing a different uniform. A Ghost Rider: the king's personal guard. He didn't speak to Sid, but walked swiftly into the dense tangle of garden.
Abruptly, they came upon a house, long and low. It sprawled over what Sid realized must be the very summit of the island, although, in the mist, he couldn't see the surrounding ocean. Lights gleamed in the windows. As he followed the Rider into this place, he heard a dog barking.
The Rider came upon a door and more Riders. They took over, marching Sid into a well-appointed room occupied by a handful of ilthi. With a rush of relief, Sid saw Loki. The general, Adrian, was there, as well as Loki's brother and sister. They sat on either side of a tall, white-haired figure Sid thought at first was Lord Thorne. It was only as he was escorted up to the small group and pushed to his knees that he realized who it was.
The king of the ilthi!
Awe and fear made him drop into the Iris Garden's obeisance. Heart hammering, he heard murmuring above him.
"Rise," came a deep, melodious voice. It reminded him of Loki's.
Apprehensively, he straightened, gaze darting to the prince. Loki smiled encouragingly.
"You are Sid," said the king. It wasn't a question.
Sid risked a direct look. He'd heard King Angelus was very old, but like the duke, the king's face was unlined. Only his silver hair and crimson eyes marked him as one of the original invaders of Gaia.
"You were captured by the murderers who destroyed the Armistice brothel?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Why did they let you live?"
Ice flooded Sid's veins, freezing his tongue.
"Answer His Majesty!" snapped the princess.
Sid cast another desperate look at Loki, but the prince seemed unconcerned, his smile as easy as before.
"T-they thought I could give them information about this place," Sid whispered. He dropped his gaze, no longer able to meet the sharp eyes of the king.
"And did you?"
"Yes." Softer still.
Prince Alaric swore and started to speak, but broke off abruptly. After a moment's silence, the king continued.
"I understand," he said. "Why should you be silent? That's not why I've brought you here. I want to know everything you saw and overheard."
Staring blindly at the floor, Sid nodded. He heard the rustle of footsteps behind him.
"Because it's unlikely that even you are aware of all you know, we will be giving you a drug to help with your recollection. Maura, my dear?"
The hem of a gown came into Sid's terrified view. Startled, he lifted his eyes and found himself looking into the smiling face of a human woman. She held a jeweled goblet.
"How do you know this will work on a human?" The princess asked. "It's an ilthiyan compound!"
"Haven't you ever noticed?" Loki drawled. "The Wanderer drugs and machines seem to work extraordinarily well on humans. Another sign of our similarity, don't you think?"
"No, I don't!"
The female human sank gracefully to a crouch in front of Sid. Her eyes were kind and filled with sympathy. "Don't be afraid," she said softly in Gaian. "This will not hurt you. I tried it myself, last night, at the king's suggestion. You will feel sleepy, but otherwise, it's very pleasant."
Sid seized on her words, desperate to believe. He took the goblet and drank the slightly bitter liquid. She smiled again when he finished, taking back the goblet and pausing to lay her hand on his cheek before rising. Bowing to the ilthi, she withdrew. Sid heard the door close behind her.
At first, nothing happened. Sid remained on his knees, staring at the floor, while the ilthi spoke quietly among themselves. His eyelids began to droop. Their voices faded into a low, soothing buzz. All around him, the light began to glow with colors.
Sid was to remember very little of the night from that point onward. He had vague memories of being spoken to and of replying, but could not hold on to the words. They went spinning away in trails of glowing letters. Sometimes, it seemed what they said was hysterically funny. Other times, he was distracted by the movements of their hands or the way their voices echoed.
Eventually, he was unaware even of that.
Jessahana warned against the profligate practice of metal-working. Smoke and fumes from the process are harmful to Gaia. It is recognized, however, that the use of metal for tools or cooking is desirable. Therefore, in her wisdom, the First Sage established the Metals Guild. Under the direct authority of the Sages, the Guild oversees the licensing and practice of mining and smelting, restricting both practices to those men who have demonstrated a proper appreciation and care for Gaia's purity.
from The Guilds of Gaiastar
"The question is, how far up through the Gaian hierarchy does this go?" Adrian rose, pacing across the room to stare out the window into the fog. "Was the sage a renegade? Or are these so-called Knights the real thing?"
"What does it matter?" demanded Kat. "It's clear the humans are moving against us. We should strike at once, before they gain too much strength."
"And what would you suggest?"
"Attack Gaiastar. Reduce it to ashes. Demoralize them." Her eyes flashed. "If we plan it right, we'll remove their leaders, as well."
"Needlessly provocative," retorted Alric. "They haven't attacked on our land, only their own. Our people must accept the risks that come from living among them."
"And if the creatures become emboldened and strike directly at us?"
"Then we retaliate without mercy."
Loki rose from his chair and leaned over, scooping up his unconscious slave. Sid's head fell heavily against his shoulder. As he started for the door, however, his father said sharply, "I haven't dismissed you, boy!"
"I'll be back," replied Loki.
"Isn't that precious," sneered Alric. "So considerate of his pet."
"Perhaps you have no qualms about discussing our strategies in the presence of a human," Loki retorted, "but I would prefer not to take such a risk. As we've already seen, they don't react to our substances the same way we do."
"You don't trust him?" Kat lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise.
"Would you?" Loki returned a smile as insincere as her own and left the room. Once beyond their sight and hearing, the tension slid from him. He sighed. There was a small, but comfortable sitting room nearby. Cradling Sid gently, he went to it.
Maura appeared as he lay the Man down on a sofa.
"He's lovely," she said, coming to his side. "How old is he?"
"I don't know. It's likely he doesn't either, but I think around twenty."
"You care for him."
Loki found himself nodding and quickly stopped. He grinned ruefully. "Watch over him, Maura. I have to go back."
She smiled and touched him briefly on the shoulder. "Of course, my dear."
He returned to his father's study, stopping conversation at his arrival.
"Is he all tucked up?" sneered Alric.
Loki ignored his brother, settling back down in his seat.
"We should have a word with Thorne," said Adrian, resuming a discussion. "It sounds like they knew about and tolerated his presence in the mountains. I wonder how much he knew about them?"
"Yes," agreed Kat. "It sounds very suspicious."
Angelus said nothing, stroking his chin with long fingers, eyes distant.
"What if he's allied with them?"
"Ridiculous," said Loki. "The Knights hate all ilthi, without exception."
"And how do you know that?" demanded Kat.
"I've just spent the past five nights researching them." Loki leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "They must have known that, as an exile, he posed little threat. It sounds like they were more offended by their fellow humans in Harmonia than of our dreamflower-addicted duke!"
Alric snorted. "Tell me, little brother, what you would do in this situation."
"Me?" Loki opened his eyes very wide. "I hadn't given it any thought."
"Then do so," Angelus said.
There was a surprised silence as Loki's siblings stared first at their father, then at him. Kat's eyes narrowed.
"It's interesting that you should bring up the duke," said Loki. "He's survived all these years without cattle and without hunting."
"By binding himself to a human!" Alric sounded disgusted.
"From what I've observed, it seems to suit them both very well. Thorne has become respected by the humans of the area, even revered."
"I've heard he's entered into rhora with that boy of his. Are you suggesting we do the same? With humans?" Kat tittered. "Setting aside the utterly abhorrent idea of making our most sacred bond with mere animals, it would place us at their mercy! What idiocy!"
Loki could not help a quick glance at his father, but the king's pale face gave nothing away.
"I agree," said Adrian, scowling. "Far better that we insist on them honoring the original armistice. Bring this most current information to Gaiastar immediately. Confront them with the complicity of this high-ranking sage."
"And have them simply deny it?" countered Kat. "What a foolish waste of time! Better that we respond quickly and with decisive force."
"Enough!" Angelus cut off Alric's response with a motion of his hand. "We're boring Loki." He turned his crimson stare on his youngest son. "Tell me about your research and you may go."
"I didn't find much in the archives," said Loki. "It seems we knew very little about the Knights of Jessahana before the war and not much more during or afterwards."
"We knew enough to destroy their headquarters," Kat said. "And they were disbanded by their sages."
"We destroyed something on the edge of the grasslands," agreed Loki. "Whether it was their base, I'm not so sure."
"Why do you say that?" asked the king.
"It seems the city was already abandoned when we struck, or very nearly so. Professor Fenn has an impressive collection of human writings which, for some reason, are not included in our archives."
"Of course not! Their writings are heavily redacted by their Sage Council. They cannot be trusted for accuracy." Kat shook her head and gave him a pitying look.
"I realize that," replied Loki patiently. "But some of his material was clearly not overseen by the Sages, being in the form of personal journals and diaries. It was in those I found a number of references to the Knights and other holy sites."
"Really?" Alaric all but rolled his eyes. "And where did this folklore put these so so-called holy sites?"
"In the Reifu Mountains."
Sid woke with a dry mouth and aching head. He lay still, looking across the white expanse of sheets to the wall and line of windows showing the inevitable dark. His eyes drifted shut. He was very comfortable, wrapped around with warmth. Gradually, it sank in that the warmth had a pulse.
He turned his head to find a mane of black hair inches from his nose. His heart leapt, then eased.
Sid thought he should get out of bed, but he was unaccountably content where he was. The feel of the ilthiya's smooth skin against his own was very pleasant. In his imagination, Sid pictured the prince rolling over and smiling at him. He imagined Loki kissing him and stroking his body. The very thought was enough to tighten Sid's groin and raise his temperature. But as he imagined it, he thought of being rolled over and of his buttocks being pulled apart and, out of nowhere again came the cold rush of fear.
Carefully, Sid slid to the edge of the bed and sat up. He sighed, dropping his head into his hands.
"You are in pain?"
Loki's voice, thick with sleep, startled Sid. He turned around to find the ilthiya watching him.
"N-no."
"Come here." Loki stretched out a hand. With only a slight hesitation, Sid came back to him. The prince's strong arm drew him close. Sid stiffened helplessly, even while he tried to tell himself it was all right.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I know," whispered Sid, ashamed. "But I can't help it. As soon as I even think about being touched down... down there, I get so scared..."
"Then let's not touch down there."
"But..."
"Is having sex with me unpleasant?"
"No," whispered Sid, embarrassed now for an entirely different reason. "N-not usually."
Loki might have spoken, but Sid rushed on. Sitting up, he said earnestly, "I -- I want to serve you, my lord. I don't understand what happened the other night. I truly don't, but it won't happen again. I swear!"
The ilthiya sighed. He seemed to be thinking. Then he said, "I've no interest in becoming a sideshow again. Yet I confess that I've missed your touch. Shall we try again? I promise to stop at once if you ask it of me."
Sid nodded, eager to do anything to feel more secure in Loki's affections. In spite of the prince's declarations earlier, he couldn't imagine being kept unless he was useful. Prince Loki had his choice of any human slave he desired and, having seen what was available in the Iris Garden alone, Sid was under no illusions of how he compared.
The prince smiled at him. "Lie down," he instructed.
Trembling, Sid did as he was told.
"Close your eyes."
His heart began to pound. He squeezed his eyes shut. The ilthiya's hand settled on his chest and rested there. When it didn't move, Sid gradually calmed down.
"What I do, I do for the pleasure of it, both mine and yours." Loki's soft voice flowed over Sid. "Much of what arouses me is seeing you respond to my touch, to seeing the pleasure it brings you."
Fingertips beat gently in a ripple of rhythm on Sid's breastbone, then swept across his chest, light as a breeze.
"I confess it was not always that way." A rich, rueful chuckle tickled Sid. "Perhaps Thorne is right. Perhaps I've become captured by rhora, but now it delights me to see you caught in the throes of passion."
A finger brushed gently, tantalizingly, across a nipple. It sent a shiver of sensation straight to Sid's groin.
"So sensitive." The ilthiya's voice became softer still. "The merest touch brings out the wanton; again and again I've seen it. It's a gift. So many of your kind have denied that connection."
"I -- I..." Sid almost said it aloud, catching himself at the last moment. "Ah!"
The chuckle came again and he thought he heard affection in the amusement. Loki's hands moved ceaselessly, stroking and rubbing, finding all the places that made Sid twitch. He began to move in response to it, pushing himself against the ilthiya's touch, anticipating.
The bed moved. Silky hair brushed his face and shoulder. The cool touch of Loki's lips met his. Sid moaned, opening his mouth, submitting to the thrust of the ilthiya's tongue. Without thinking, he reached up, tangling his fingers in Loki's luxuriant mane. When the prince released him, he didn't need to be told. Breathless, he threw back his head, exposing his throat to more kisses and, finally, to the exquisite pleasure-pain of fangs sinking into his flesh.
Heat rolled through Sid, flooding his veins. His hands fell away to grip the sheets as Loki drank. He was dimly aware when Loki lifted his head briefly, then bent down again, lapping at his shoulder, along his armpit, eventually finding nipples already pebble-hard and aching.
"Yes!" gasped Sid, back arching. "Loki, please!"
Again, the sharp, crystal-bright pain of the bite, the fierce sucking at the swollen flesh. Lips parted, breath coming in rapid gasps, Sid lost the remnants of his fear. He sobbed in ecstasy when Loki wrapped a hand around his sex and thought he would die of joy.
And when the ilthiyath rose, leaving Sid's nipples wet and throbbing, Sid almost wailed in disappointment. His dismay did not last long, however, for Loki bent once more, this time engulfing Sid's captive sex, swallowing it to the hilt.
Sid knew, in a dim, unfocused way, when Loki's teeth found the vein pulsing along the underside his cock. He was vaguely aware of being held down while he bucked and writhed, tossing his head from side to side in helpless ecstasy. All control lost, all thoughts scattered to eternity, he was an instrument played by the ilthiya's skillful tongue and hands. Again and again, Loki brought him to the brink, let him see the release awaiting him, then dragged him back. Again and again, Sid sobbed and begged and urged him on.
When, at last, Loki allowed him to climax, he lost track of everything. Caught on a wave of sensation so intense it was nearly agony, he was flung far from himself and left floating in a place without a name or description. Forever, it seemed, he drifted there. bathed in light, wrapped in warmth, safe from any sorrow.
"Sid?"
He sighed, opening his eyes. Loki's face hovered over him, haloed by silvery light. He smiled dreamily, lifting a hand to languidly wrap the dark, shining strands through his fingers.
"Beautiful," he whispered drowsily. "So beautiful."
He heard laughter, touched with a note of incredulity. Then all that inky softness flowed over him and he was lifted from the damp sheets and cradled against Loki's broad, smooth chest. "Oh, damn," he heard. "I'm in such trouble."
Sid slept like one drugged -- which, if one thought about it, is exactly what he was -- by kharizmine and pleasure. Loki sighed, bracing himself against the window frame, and stared blindly out into the cloudy dark.
He'd made a human his rhorani. Like the duke and, unless he was very much mistaken, like his own father, he'd crossed a line thought to be impossible. Even now, he could taste Sid. His entire body glowed with a sense of well-being. If Thorne was telling the truth, Loki would never need herd blood again. Indeed, the thought of the slightly flat taste made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. Even the adrenalin-rich blood from the hunt no longer seemed so delicious.
Loki imagined Gaia with human and ilthi in such partnership. Would there be any advantages for the humans? The ilthi stood to gain much, but what of the humans? Loki couldn't imagine the promise of sexual ecstasy being much of a lure to the repressed Gaians.
He needed to know more. There was only one person he dared ask about it. Leaving the bedroom, he went straight to the link and buzzed Thorne. Misha answered and, after a moment, Lord Thorne.
"Meet? Of course!"
"Perhaps a walk," said Loki, thinking of listening devices.
"If you like."
He met the duke in Subterra's great entrance hall. Thorne, however, didn't move toward the door leading outside, but through one that led deeper into Subterra, toward the central rotunda.
"You've abandoned your denial? I'm delighted to hear it," said Thorne.
"It human and ilthi can enter into such relationships, why doesn't it happen more often?"
"I daresay it does -- more than we know or care to admit."
"You're referring to Father?"
"I should think that would be obvious."
"It seems a one-sided relationship. It would free us from the trouble and expense of keeping human herds, but what advantage would it give them?"
Thorne seemed surprised. "Longevity," he said.
Loki stopped in his tracks. "What?"
"Oh! You didn't realize... Ah, that would explain it. How old do you think Misha is?"
"I -- well, I suppose Sid's age."
"Try twice that. The same with Maura. Think. How long has your father kept her?"
Stunned, Loki could think of nothing to say.
"Of course, they still age faster than we do, but their rate of deterioration slows dramatically." Thorne started walking again, hands clasped behind him. "It would be too sad, otherwise, don't you think?"
He could have Sid with him for decades! Loki felt his heart lighten.
"They are much less susceptible to disease and heal from injury faster. I daresay it was what kept your young friend alive in spite of abuse that would have killed any other human."
"If Maura is rhorani, why not say so?"
"Obviously, it's political suicide."
They reached the bank of elevators. Before Loki realized what he was about, Thorne walked up to them and pressed the call button.
"Your Grace, this leads to a restricted area..."
"I know." Thorne gave him a broad smile and stepped through the elevator door that opened.
They rode up in silence. At the top, the guard greeted them with surprise.
"I received no word, Your Highness, that you and His Grace were coming."
"You're welcome to check with Angelus," said Thorne.
"I'll have to do that, my lord."
"By all means." The duke waved an indifferent hand and started down the corridor, leaving the guard staring after them, disconcerted.
"Where are you going?"
"You'll see," said Thorne.
Curious, Loki let the duke lead the way down a musty, unfamiliar hall where they came upon another set of elevators. Never having seen these before, Loki directed a puzzled look at Thorne.
Instead of call buttons, there was a single keypad. Thorne set his index finger firmly on it. The pad lit up, blinking rapidly red, then yellow, then green.
"Well, well," he murmured, "I'm still in the system."
The elevator door swished open, sending a cloud of dust eddying out into the corridor. Loki sneezed violently. Ignoring it, the duke stepped in, Loki hurrying after him. The doors closed and they continued up. It finally stopped and the doors opened again.
The lab levels containing the assimilation chamber below were rarely visited, but they were maintained. Here, dust lay thick over everything. Thorne said something in a low, annoyed voice and started forward.
All the doors lining this corridor had the unusual keypads. Out of curiosity, Loki tried his own finger on one, and got nothing but red lights. Thorne choose a door at the end of the hall. It slid aside with a rasping hum. Inside, lights flared on.
This room contained only a long computer control bank.
"What is this place?"
Thorne didn't answer at once. He walked to the console. His fingers moved over the controls and at once, it came to life, lights rippling across its surface. In the console's center was a wide screen -- blank, for the moment.
"What the hell is this place?" Loki asked again, voice taking on an edge. A chill ran down his spine.
On the screen, an image suddenly flickered and came into focus. His heart gave a curious lurch.
"You recognize it, I assume?" Thorne asked lightly.
Loki nodded, speechless. It was the official logo of the legendary Reifu, the home ship of the ilthi.
Planetary scans and field expeditions reveal human settlements dating back an estimated three hundred years. A few ruins may possibly be older and require further investigation. Fossils of flora and fauna have been found, most predating the evidence of human habitation. Research into the evolution of the native sentients is ongoing.
Preliminary Report to the Council
I.C.S. Reifu 1105ITC/1768UTC
Sid found a book on Loki's reader about the ilthi invasion of Gaia. Left alone in the prince's chambers, there was little else to do, so he settled himself by the fireplace and began to read it.
Although he hadn't admitted it to Loki, Sid was thrilled to have the ability to do so. Reading was a sign of scholarship. In Gaian society, the common folk learned only enough to read the most basic of Jessahana's teachings. In actuality, most people merely memorized the short sayings. He wondered if the ilthi's machine could teach him to read Gaian, too.
He put the question to Loki when the prince returned. Loki, an abstracted look on his face, seemed startled at the question.
"I have no idea," he said. "It would depend on whether the machine was programmed for such a function." One eyebrow lifted. "But considering how ill you were afterwards, would you really want to go through with it?"
"Yes," said Sid without hesitation.
"Why?"
"It's the language of my people."
Loki nodded and walked past him and out onto the balcony, leaving Sid with the impression the prince hadn't really been listening.
He went back to the book, fascinated in spite of himself by the account of an event he'd always heard described in the bitterest, most regretful of terms. For Gaia, it had been a dark time. Thousands had died; villages and towns had been razed by the vampires' terrible weapons. As a people, humans had nearly vanished from Gaia.
Being clanless, Sid had received his history education second-and third-hand, but he'd always had the impression of the ilthi as a single-minded horde of blood-thirsty killers. The book presented a much different view.
It seemed there had been differing opinions among the ilthi about the invasion. Not all of them had approved of the war unleashed upon Gaia's "primitive sentients." As he read on, Sid was startled to come across Lord Thorne's name. The duke, referred to in the book as Commander Thorne, had led a group of ilthi advocating peaceful coexistence, claiming the eventual loss of something called "eskerion" would eventually tilt the balance of power between the two races. The man who stood in opposition to him was Angelus Mordecai Sviatoslav, Captain Angelus Mordecai Sviatoslav.
Sid set aside the book. The balcony door was still open. Loki stood outside, hands clasped behind him, staring out into the fog. The ilthiya turned around when Sid approached.
"What's eskerion?"
Loki lifted an eyebrow, but he answered readily enough. "It's a type of energy. It powered our starship and a great deal more besides. Why?"
"I was reading that book. The duke is in it -- and the king. The duke wanted to be friends with Gaians, but your father refused."
"That's right -- although I don't know if Thorne wanted to be friends, exactly."
"Isn't that what coexistence means?"
"It means to tolerate the existence of others in a peaceful manner."
"I see," Sid said, "but did eskerion have something to do with their fight?"
"It had everything to do with it. On this planet, there's a substance called anamoline. It acts directly on esker."
"How so?"
"It prevents the energy from renewing itself. Esker powered everything we had then, or so I understand -- it was before my time." Loki smiled faintly. "It powered the ship, our weapons, the replicator, the Creche, everything."
"So it's gone?"
"Yes. Eventually, after the generators shut down, our stores of it ran out. Since then, of course, we've developed other energy sources, but none of them are self-renewing, producing the endless amounts the eskerion generators did.
"Both Thorne and my father knew the esker would be gone soon. Their argument was over how to use what remained. The Reifu couldn't escape Gaia's gravity without using all we had saved, and even then, there was no guarantee the ship would be able to break away. Negotiations with your Sages were going nowhere and in the end, my father didn't want to risk being stranded here without any means of defense."
"According to your book," said Sid," the king and Thorne became bitter enemies. It says the duke led a revolt against him."
"That's right. And Thorne was exiled to Vestrax."
"Why was he even allowed to live?"
"Thorne was the Reifu's chief scientist. He was too valuable to kill."
"And now?" Sid asked.
Loki gave him a long, thoughtful look. "I don't know."
The news flew through Neminora. The king was throwing a banquet. Loki received the information with the same astonishment as most of the island's inhabitants. Fema, aflutter at the prospect of dressing his master in formal wear, was in transports.
"The ruby velvet, don't you think, Your Highness? Or, perhaps, the green?"
"Do I have to go?" Sid asked.
Loki caught himself thinking it would be pleasant to have him there. "Don't be silly," he said. "Slaves aren't invited."
Sid's response was a wide smile. "Then can I have another book?" he asked.
"You finished Tashmar's History already?"
A nod.
Loki shook his head. "Very well. If it will keep you out of trouble."
Leaving Sid at the domestic link to scroll through Neminora's library catalogue, Loki braced himself for the banquet. It had been decades since the king had held a major entertainment. What was the old man up to this time?
Not only was Angelus throwing a banquet, he was opening Subterra's Great Hall to do so. It occurred to Loki this might be something even more extraordinary than he'd first thought. The most obvious reason made him nervous.
"Did you find a book?" he asked Sid, rather than think about it.
"This looks interesting," said Sid, pointing to a history of the native Gaians. It was listed as being only available in hard copy.
"Good. Let's go get it."
"Your Highness!" Fema passed nearby in time to hear him. "I'm sure one of the librarians would be delighted to bring it over..."
"I need some fresh air. Don't look at me like that, Fema. I'll be back in plenty of time to get dressed."
They took the long way. With Sid beside him, Loki strolled past his sister's and brother's quarters. He was not surprised to see the corridors outside them completely deserted. The tension in the air was almost palpable.
So, father intends to make an announcement does he?
"Is something wrong?"
Loki looked over at Sid, whose forehead was creased in an apprehensive frown. The human's sensitivity to his environment was acute.
"Not really," replied Loki cheerfully. "This way. The library is up there. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed after the Academy. The selection is pretty sparse."
The librarian was astonished to see him. She rushed off at once with Loki's request, returning with the desired book. It was covered with dust.
"We've been meaning to get it scanned into the collection," she said apologetically, "but we've been having trouble with the equipment."
Loki smiled and assured her it was all right, but her words depressed him. Slowly, but surely, it seemed all their equipment deteriorated along with the numbers of the ilthi. He thought again about the dwindling number of students at the Academy.
"All our books are like this," replied Sid, hefting its slight weight from one hand to another. "Is that where the ilthi got the idea?"
"Not necessarily. There were books like these aboard the Reifu, although I admit they were curiosities, collector's items. They're in a special section of the Academy library now. Also, I think my father may have some."
Sid gave him a doubting look, but said nothing more.
With Sid comfortably settled and occupied, Loki submitted to Fema's eager attentions. He stood patiently while the steward dressed him in the finery of state occasions. Not being a royal heir, Loki was spared the necessity of wearing a cumbersome royal circlet. Even so, tradition required slim trousers of black and a shirt of finest white silk over which Fema buttoned a vest of black velvet. After easing a form-fitting black coat over the ensemble, the steward stepped back and regarded his charge.
"You look magnificent!" His eyes were moist as he regarded his master. "Absolutely stunning!"
Loki managed a smile.
"Now, for some jewelry ..."
"Not necessary."
"Your Highness!"
Fema looked like he might burst into tears, so poor Loki sat down at his vanity and suffered through modeling an assortment of necklaces and rings for his exacting steward. At long last, however, Fema straightened and stepped back.
"Excellent," he pronounced. "I think a little paint and..."
"Absolutely not!" roared the long-suffering prince, and Fema was forced to be satisfied with what he had.
The Great Hall was located in the old royal quarters in the eastern caverns of Subterra, a complex of caves and tunnels among the first to have been inhabited. When Angelus had abandoned them fifty years ago, they had been sealed away. Most of the rooms were still empty, but tonight, carpets had been laid down in the corridors leading to the Hall and bright lights illuminated them.
Loki wasn't expected to go through the receiving line, either as a greeter or a guest. He was shown instead to the family's waiting room, a small antechamber just off the main dining room. A handful of his father's most important advisors were there, as well, men with eyes turning purple who could remember the war.
Through a pair of low arches, Loki watched the bustling, final preparations for dinner while making desultory conversation with the elders. Servants buzzed around a half dozen long, magnificently decorated dining tables. At the far end of the room, a long, raised platform held the family table, with the king's throne in the center and smaller, although no less ornate, seats on either side.
Four great chandeliers hung from the distant roof, casting dancing light over the Hall. Small fountains were set at intervals along the tables, chilled blood of the finest quality bubbling down their tiers, Slaves stood by, ready to ladle glassfuls at the guest's request. Arrangements of fruit and flowers gave the tables a festive look and, from a small loft high on the far wall, a string quartet played quietly.
Conversation filled the hall as the first guests were escorted to their places at the tables. The aristocracy of Neminora and beyond, abuzz with excitement and speculation, eagerly took their seats.
Adrian Dare appeared, resplendent in his dress uniform. One of Angelus' younger advisors came with him, and they mounted the royal platform, apparently impervious to the sudden drop in conversation and quick glances in their direction.
The king's head steward appeared at the entrance to the antechamber. Loki steeled himself.
"May I seat you, Your Highness?"
The question was rhetorical. Loki smiled and murmured agreement. As he walked into the dining room, he smiled easily at the gathering ilthi, nodding here and there to faces he recognized. Once on the platform, he was relieved to find himself seated on the other end of the table from Adrian.
"Minister Shay," he greeted the elderly ilthiya seated beside him. "You continue to enjoy good health, I trust?"
"Is it true?" Shay was of the first generation after the Wanderers and Creche-born. His eyes were purple with red just beginning at the outer edge of the iris. "Is Angelus going to announce his heir tonight?"
"I had hoped you knew." Loki sighed. "I haven't the slightest idea."
"It's been a long time since His Majesty has thrown an affair of this size. Even some of the lesser houses have been invited. I do hope he is not ill?"
"Not perceptibly."
Alric was the first of the two heirs to arrive. Accompanied by whispers and curious stares, he walked up the aisle to the dais. His gaze slid to the chair immediately to the right of the king's, the Honor Chair, a piece of furniture nearly almost as impressive as the throne itself. He wasn't so foolish as to take it, but a smile hovered at his lips. Instead, he walked to his usual place on his father's left.
Kat appeared several minutes later. As the eldest, protocol put her on her father's right hand, but her usual chair was identical to Alaric's. Everyone, including Loki, held their breath, waiting to see where she would choose to sit.
"The little bitch had better get into her own chair," hissed Alaric, even while he smiled steadily around.
She did. Loki relaxed a little, glad he wouldn't have to listen to Alaric's whispered complaints.
"His Majesty, King Angelus Sviatoslav!"
The Chancellor's voice rang out over the hall and conversation died at once. The room filled with a rustling and scraping of chairs as everyone, including his children, rose and bowed.
Every head was lowered, but every gaze lifted as the king passed, bright with curiosity and awe.
Like all the Wanderers, the King was tall and slender, a body built for the stars. He wore black, as was his custom, and his long, white hair seemed to glow against it. Beside him, in the palest of grays was none other than the Duke of Vestrax. It was a striking contrast and more: it was a glimpse into an age already becoming legend. Loki, bowing with the others, experienced an odd little flutter in his gut.
"I don't believe it!" Alaric whispered.
The flutter became a tickle of laughter. As the king stepped into his place, Thorne calmly took the Honor Chair.
"My beloved subjects," the king said into the shocked silence. "We are delighted you could be here with Us tonight to celebrate the return of an old friend. Lord Gabriel Thorne, long exiled, has served his sentence with honor and We welcome him back into Our kingdom and Our friendship."
Setting one hand on Thorne's shoulder, he surveyed the assembly. "As of today, Lord Gabriel's title as Duke of Vestrax is official. We grant him not only those lands of his former exile, but properties in the border cities of Armistice and Verity, and forty-thousand square miles of land along the southern Amdien coast. In return, His Grace has sworn fealty and obedience to Us and to Our heirs."
Loki couldn't help stealing glances at his brother and sister, both of whom stood before their chairs, faces wooden as they struggled to hide their chagrin. He was tempted to laugh out loud, but restrained himself, coughing behind his fist as applause broke out in the hall. Tentative at first, it quickly became enthusiastic.
Thorne returned a nod and his usual dreamy smile and, after the king was seated, sat down.
"I don't believe it!" hissed Alaric. "He's going to all this expense and effort for that drug-addled fool? It's Decline! It must be!"
"You might speak louder," suggested Loki. "I don't think he heard."
Alaric reddened but neither Angelus nor Thorne gave any sign of having done so. Both sat with their heads together, talking animatedly.
"You may think it's funny, little brother, but it's not. Do you think Kat will allow you your human playthings, your trips to Armistice, if she's queen? Or your life of expensive indolence?"
"You would support my life of expensive indolence?" asked Loki hopefully.
Alaric might even have answered, but caught himself in time, scowling at his younger brother in disgust. "I don't know why I even bother," he said, holding out his goblet to a passing slave. "It's not like you have any influence or money of your own, any value as an ally whatsoever."
"That's true," Loki admitted. "I'm completely inconsequential. I prefer it, actually."
"Do you?" Alaric took a sip of his drink. "Inconsequential relatives can easily become political liabilities. They do such odd, unsettling things sometimes. Entering into rhora with a human, for instance. Obviously, Father tolerates such embarrassing behavior; another monarch may not be so open-minded."
"Point taken," murmured Loki.
To be a sage is to be most honored of men or women. To be a sage is to walk in the hallowed footsteps of Jessahana herself, to hold the ear of Gaia, to draw upon Her Wisdom and Her power. To be a sage is to have pure blood flowing in one's veins, to revere the teachings of Gaia as revealed through those sages who have gone before. Green, Red. Gold and White, like Her seasons, the Sages of Gaia are priceless tokens of Her love.
from The Great Sages of Gaia
The author of the book on Gaian history made much of the humans' inability to progress beyond what he referred to as a "primitive" agricultural society.
"From every indication, the humans have maintained both their numbers and their current level of technology for hundreds of years. Few signs of innovation have been reported in any of our previous studies and those we did find were ruthlessly quashed by the society's ruling hierarchy of religious sages. Indeed, an aversion to even slight advances in technology seems built into the culture."
There were pictures in this book; it was the primary reason Sid had chosen it. Images of Gaians working in the fields, at the market-place and around Homes appeared in sections throughout. Most of them were taken surreptitiously, according to the captions, by ilthiyan historians in disguise.
Some of the pictures showed ruined villages. All were carefully dated according to the ilthi system. Sid saw broken walls and bits of stone foundation poking up through thick weeds, some claimed to be as old as two hundred and fifty years.
Sid had looked forward to having some time alone, but now, in the quiet of Loki's apartment, he was restless. His concentration wandered and he soon put the book down.
What was the banquet like? His last sight of the prince returned to tease him: Loki had been a vision in a formal suit, his dark ilthiyan beauty leaving Sid speechless.
The sound of the door opening shook Sid from his preoccupation. He jumped to his feet to face Fema.
"His Grace wishes his human to have company," the steward announced "and Prince Loki is agreeable."
"Yes, sir." Sid was in no mood to antagonize Fema.
The ilthiya gave him a narrow look. "Very well. Come with me."
Sid put down his book and followed Fema from the apartment. They made their way along elegantly furnished corridors Sid remembered only vaguely from his first days in Subterra. At last they came to a set of double doors. A bored guard stood beside it. He nodded to Fema and opened the doors.
"In," ordered Fema. "And don't think of getting into any trouble, because I'll be watching."
"Yes, sir."
Loki's room was large and luxurious, but Sid saw at a glance this was not just a room, but an elegant, sprawling suite. He found Misha in a parlor opening onto a balcony that overlooked the rest of the island. The other human, seeing him, jumped up.
"Sid!"
"This is pretty fancy," said Sid, looking around. "Loki only has one room."
Misha gave his surroundings a disparaging glance. "I hate it," he said. "I want to go home."
"I don't blame you." Sid thought about Harmonia, its peaceful, beautiful halls, the natural beauty outside its many windows. "Are they treating you all right?"
"They're polite, but condescending." Misha fell back into the chair he'd occupied when Sid had come into the room. "I don't care about them, anyway. It's Gabriel. I hardly ever see him. He's always with that iliyath, their king."
"Well, it makes sense. The king did send for him."
"So? Does that mean he has to spend every damned minute with him? He hasn't touched me since we came!"
Sid, startled, suddenly remembered the conversation he'd overheard at the Iris Garden.
Misha looked down at his hands. They were tightly clenched in his lap. "D-Did you know Gabriel was once rhorani to the king?" His voice was low and strained. "It was a long time ago, on their space ship. What -- what if..."
"I thought you said the ilthi couldn't just turn rhora on or off."
"They can't. At least, that's what Gabriel told me. But he hasn't even fed from me!"
"Are you jealous?"
Misha's eyes flashed. "Of course not! I trust him! It's the king, I don't trust! What if he king lifts his banishment? What if..." Misha's gaze grew stark. "What if he wants Gabriel back?"
"The king has his own human rhorani," replied Sid. "I've met her."
"You have?" Arrested, Misha straightened. "What is she like?"
"Very beautiful and very kind. I don't think you should worry. You've been with Gabriel a long time, haven't you?"
Misha shrugged. "To me, it seems forever, but to an ilthiya?" He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. "You're right, though. I'm jealous. I'm not used to sharing him."
"It's this place." Sid shuddered, looking out into the rain. "The sun never shines. Even in the day, it's grey and dark."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Misha smiled crookedly.
"I'm being a fool," he said. "I should have more trust in Gabriel."
"How did you two meet?" asked Sid, wishing he could say the same about Loki.
Misha brightened, perhaps grateful for the chance to dwell on happier things.
"It was after the last big earthquake. Our village used to stand under the road to Harmonia. We had lived there for generations, caring for the Shrine and for the palace. But this time, the ground shook for a long time and the road broke off from the cliffs and came down on top of us. Dozens were killed. Dozens more gravely injured."
Misha sighed, gaze turning inward.
"No one noticed him at first. Men and women from our other villages came to help, but they, too, had suffered great losses. He arrived in the confusion of their coming and going. At first, we didn't even realize he was ilthi. He hid his hair and wore spectacles to conceal his eyes, but his healing skills were undeniable."
"What happened when you realized he was a vampire?"
"Nothing. Oh, there were some who called for him to be driven out, but my father bade them be quiet. He pointed out that Gabriel was alone and had not harmed us. As the days passed, Gabriel continued to tend to the sick. He used his great strength to help us clear away the rocks from the village and find those who were missing. It was almost a week when he came to my father and told him of his need. He offered to leave and seek nourishment elsewhere, but by then, we knew how much we needed him."
"We're not like the sage-bound, fearful of the ilthi's knowledge. Our elders have the wisdom to know what of their technology is good and what should be forbidden. Father asked him if he had to kill to live. Of course, Gabriel told him the truth, but even so, most of us didn't believe him. The stories of ilthi hunger had reached even us. So they called for volunteers. I had been assisting him in the healing tents. Even then, I found him beautiful and fascinating. Much to Father's dismay, I volunteered."
"Weren't you afraid?"
"Yes," Misha replied frankly. "Terrified. But Gabriel was gentle. He spoke to me first to calm me and used an herbal ointment on my skin to deaden the pain of his fangs. It was -- a feeling unlike any I'd ever had. I liked it. From then on, I always volunteered when he needed to feed. And, after awhile, we grew close."
"When did you become his rhorani?"
Misha's bad mood was gone. His eyes shone as he talked. It was clear the ilthiya was his world and Sid couldn't help a twinge of envy.
"One night, after the Elders had agreed to give him the use of the palace, he brought me up there and told me about rhora. He sang me a song, one of their ancient poems from the time before they went Wandering. It was beautiful and sad. He said I had turned his sorrow to joy. That was when he made me his."
It was Sid's turn to feel the twist of envy.
"But what about you and Loki?" asked Misha. "Is it better between you two?"
"I -- I'm not sure."
"He came for you, didn't he? He protects you. Why would he do that if he didn't care? After all, the ilthi have all the humans they could want. If you were of such little value, why go to all the trouble?"
"It annoys his family," replied Sid.
Misha laughed. "It's more than that, I think." He sobered. "No, seriously, Sid, you should have seen him the night the Iris Garden burned. He was distraught! Gabriel said he went into frenzy."
"Frenzy?"
"A state of extreme fury. I've never seen Gabriel succumb, but he's told me about it. He says you become insane and want only to destroy everything around you. It's very dangerous."
Sid stared at Misha, astonished. "I -- he was probably just angry about the attack on the brothel."
Misha gave him a long, disbelieving look, then shook his head in exasperation. "Gabriel is right," he said. "It's hard to tell which one of you is more determined to deny the obvious."
Although the banquet ended shortly after midnight, the normally indolent Neminoran aristocracy roused themselves for a brief flurry of parties and receptions in honor of the occasion. No sooner had their father left the dining hall, Katya moved in, sliding her arm through Loki's and holding on tight. She flashed a smile to someone down among the other tables, and leaned close.
"I'm off to Archmont's soiree. Come with me, Loki, and keep me entertained. You know what a stick old Archie is!"
Short of physically flinging her off, Loki had little choice. He let her drag him from the platform and off through a side entrance. They made their slow way through the crowded halls, emerging at last into the open night. A palanquin awaited near the door, supported by a quartet of muscular blond Men.
"Why didn't you tell me Gabriel and Father were on such good terms?" she demanded as soon as they had were comfortably inside. "Did you give me the wrong impression of their relationship deliberately?"
"I didn't give you any impression!" Loki pushed aside the heavy curtain holding back the night's chill. The palanquin moved smoothly out onto the surface of the island and away from Subterra to the outer hills and cliffs. He could easily have walked the distance, Neminora was so small, but Kat would have her comforts.
"Of course you did! Father sent you to fetch him! Surely, if the duke was back in favor, Father would have sent Alric or me to escort him!"
"It hurts my head to think like that." Loki gave her a droll grin. "And if I could have traded places with you in Vestrax, sister dear, I would gladly have done so. There was no tech! None at all!"
Kat made a face, but some of the angry look was gone. "I know." She laughed. Her touch was brief now and amiable. "It's this place, always having to think two steps ahead of Alric! Sometimes I think Father uses you just to confuse the situation between us! What? Why are you laughing?"
"Nothing of the sort! I stand in awe of your acuity."
She gave him a mock slap and laughed again. Her good humor continued through the soiree and a musical afterwards. Loki was content to be carried along for awhile, listening to the gossip, watching the subtle political moves among the revelers, as intricate as the steps of a dance.
The cool night was filled with restless anticipation. Loki felt it in the salons and on the misty terraces overlooking the sea. It unnerved him.
Shortly after dawn, someone slipped a data wand into his pocket. He noticed it at a sea-side breakfast with friends, including his brother. In a rare moment by himself, he listened to it. The message had him making hasty farewells.
Naturally, Alric followed him out, accosting him as he ran down the steps of the terrace toward the main path.
"Where are you going? To meet Katya?"
"Nothing of the sort. Father has a new task for me, it seems." Loki produced the wand, gold, with the familiar imprint in the metal.
"A task? What?"
"I'll find out when I get back to my rooms." Once again, Loki tried to get away and was thwarted.
"I'll come with you! What is the old man thinking, burdening you with these administrative responsibilities? It's not only inconvenient, it's inappropriate. Both Kat and I stand ready to address any of Gaia's diplomatic requirements."
"Suit yourself, Alric, but you know Father. If he didn't ask for you..."
Alric shrugged, pretending not to care. but when Loki continued down the path, he didn't follow. Loki felt his brother's gaze fixed on his back until the path bent, taking him around a high wall and out of sight.
The cool, damp air felt good, clearing his head, helping him assess this latest move of his father's. The message offered little in the way of explanation while suggesting much.
"His Grace wishes to return home. Please see to his safe arrival. There is no need to make a fuss about leaving. A quiet departure would be best. Feel free to stay awhile and enjoy the peace and quiet."
Loki arrived at his rooms to find Fema already immersed in a frenzy of packing. Sid was there, too, darting from one room to the other, carrying articles destined for some precisely-reasoned place among Loki's luggage.
"I understand you will be gone for some time," Fema greeted him, face long with hurt and disapproval. "Surely, Your Highness, I should come with you under those circumstances!"
"I'm sorry, Fema. I need you here to keep your finger on Neminora's pulse! It's only thanks to you I avoid unpleasant surprises on my visits home."
Fema remained unconvinced, directing a dark look at Sid. "If you should change your mind, my lord, I would be delighted to accompany you to Vestrax, no matter how primitive it might be."
"We're really going back to Thorne House?" Sid asked Loki later, after Fema had gone off for something. His shining eyes and eager smile made Loki feel better about everything.
"Alas, yes. Don't tell me you're looking forward to that primitive pile?"
"You like it, too -- no matter what you say."
"Are you calling me a liar, slave?"
Dark eyes gleamed. "Of course not, Your Highness."
Loki did indeed look forward to it. He wanted to explore the forests surrounding the ancient Home. His curiosity about the humans he'd scarcely seen there was sharp. As for any ulterior motive of the king's in sending him, Loki was inclined to dismiss the idea. More likely was Angelus' fatigue with his youngest son. The rumors about Sid and rhora could be embarrassing to a king who kept his own affairs strictly private.
Loki expected Katya to show up before he left, but his next visitor was Adrian Dare.
"Contact me when you arrive at Thorne House," instructed the general, looking around at the assembled baggage with an expression of discontent. "Your father has more confidence in your safety out there than do I. He's not even sending troops, is he?"
"I don't know if it's possible, Adrian, honestly. Getting around is so very tedious..."
"Somehow," Adrian interrupted dryly, "I suspect you could get information to me if you wished."
"I'll see what I can do. Take care of father."
"I'm trying, Loki. Don't make my job harder."
While Fema removed the baggage to the transport, Kat slipped past unnoticed to pounce. Loki had Sid backed up to a wall and was teasing him with kisses when her outraged sniff brought him around.
"Honestly, Loki. You have such low taste!"
"Katya! You came to say good-bye! I'm deeply moved!"
She dragged her gaze from Sid. "Oh, stop it. Why are you doing this? Why only you?"
"You could speak to Father," said Loki hopefully, "and suggest you go instead."
"I did." A flush touched her pale cheeks. "He said it wasn't worth my time."
"How disappointing."
"At least tell me where you'll be! 'Somewhere' in the Reifu mountain range is hardly a real address!"
"To be honest, Kat, I don't know myself, but I promise I'll pay attention this time."
She stared at him in disbelief. Loki took Sid by the wrist and started past her, neatly dodging her attempt to stop him. His room was finally empty of baggage. It was time to go.
Kat followed him all the way down to the landing pads, braving the cold wind. His flyer waited under the floodlights, techs scurrying around with last-minute checks.
"Contact me when you get there," she said with a sour look around. "Get the duke to invite me for a visit! I mean it, Loki!"
When Kat had retreated to the shelter of Subterra, Loki called over the tech supervisor. The ilthiya's gaze wobbled when Loki tried to look him in the eye.
"That's enough. I'll take it from here," said the prince.
The tech started to protest, but Loki cut him off with an impatient gesture. When the techs had withdrawn, he went over the flyer's hull himself. Sure enough, he found several locating devices and threw them across the tarmac into the surf-battered rocks. Not that they would be of much use, since the flyer couldn't go into the anamoline zone. Rather, it was a matter of principle.
Sid and Misha were in the cabin. Misha sat near the cockpit door, hanging over the arm of his seat and looking in. Sid sat near a window. When he met Loki's gaze, his eyes were shining.
"Don't get into any trouble," Loki ordered with mock severity.
Sid lifted an eyebrow, but the twinkle never left his eyes.
Loki was less amused to find the duke busily entering data into the navigation computer. Thorne lifted his head at Loki's entrance, beaming. "There you are! We're almost ready!"
"And where are we going?" Loki slid into the pilot's chair. "How did you get past my security lock?"
"You used the Dekker protocol, right?" Thorne sat back with an expression of satisfaction.
Everyone used Dekker code. So what? Loki eyed the duke warily.
"I helped develop it," Thorne continued. "So I have a key."
"Y-you?" Loki's jaw dropped.
"I was Commander of Reifu's Sci-Tech Unit. Third in command of the ship." Thorne peered closely at him, then sighed. "You don't know, do you? I thought Angelus was lying when he said he wanted the ship forgotten. I guess not."
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did know. I've read the Minutes of the colonization committee."
"Do you know who his Second was?"
"Raimond Dare."
"Very good."
Adrian's father had been among the oldest of the Wanderers. Right up until his Decline, he'd served as head of the king's security.
"What are your destination coordinates?"
"Our staging area. We're going by horse. I hope you don't object?"
"Horse?" Loki enjoyed equestrian pursuits as much as the next man, but being bounced and jostled slowly through the mountains had much less appeal.
"Skips and skids are so noisy." Thorne rose and started toward the cabin door. "You see much more of the country from horseback."
"Right," muttered Loki to his retreating figure.
The prince sat down and checked the coordinates Thorne had entered. They were headed to a place south of the ilthiyan border post. Loki set the flyer on auto. Once the craft was in the air and speeding east, he returned to the cabin. Still, it wasn't until he and his companions had located and destroyed six or seven more spy devices that he allowed himself to fully relax and enjoy the trip.
Anamoline appears to be unique to Gaia. Unlike most of the native minerals catalogued to date, this alone has no reference in the general mineralogical records. It gives off a subtle radiation with deleterious effects on systems powered by eskerion energy. It is extremely rare, found only within a specific area of the planet, i.e., the southern end of the Reifu Mountain range.
from: Geological Field Report, Garmin Leolitka 1168ITC/1520UTC
Shortly before dawn, the flyer landed behind a magnificent mansion set against a backdrop of wooded hills. Slaves ran to meet them, a tall, distinguished-looking ilthiya in their midst. He greeted Lord Thorne with a bow, followed by an embrace.
"Interesting," murmured the prince.
Standing next to Loki, Sid was stiff and restless from the flight. He watched the slaves removing baggage from the flyer, carrying it away and out of sight. Lights gleamed in the many windows of the mansion. Further away, he saw barns and stables. The early morning air held the faint, earthy scent of horses.
Thorne looked around and beckoned to the prince.
"Stay here," murmured Loki, and left Sid to join the two other ilthi.
After he was gone, Misha joined Sid.
"Does His Grace know the lord?" asked Sid watching the three ilthi talking.
Misha shrugged. "Lord Gabriel is very old. He's done many things and known many people in his lifetime."
"He never mentioned him?"
"No. He didn't like to speak of the other ilthi." Misha hesitated, then, "I wish I had asked him more questions about them."
"What did you talk about?"
"His work. The people of my village. Ordinary things."
Sid remembered the humans of Thorne House, the silent, respectful domestics who had come to the palace by day and left just as silently by nightfall. Men who lived in trees.
"What is his work?"
Misha didn't have time to answer, however. A smiling woman approached them. "If you please, young sirs, follow me?"
They went with her across the dew-soaked lawn into the great house. From her, they learned the name of their host, Lord Cathrun.
"We breed the finest horses on Gaia," she told them proudly. "Lord Cathrun's horses are sought by even the sages of Gaiastar!"
As the woman led them through the mansion, Sid looked around for signs of other ilthi, but saw only humans. Later, when Loki joined him in their guest room, he asked about it.
"Cathrun is second generation and had two sons before the Creche was lost. They've moved on to their own estates, most likely. From what I've heard, he and his wife separated long ago and she lives far away."
"He's the only ilthiya here?"
"Yes." Loki's voice was thoughtful.
Sid mulled the implications of that until he fell asleep.
Loki roused him at dusk with kisses. "I must eat," whispered Loki, lips brushing the corner of Sid's mouth. "May I?"
A tingle ran through Sid from head to toe. The feel of Loki's bite brought a rush of heat. The rhythmic sucking at his throat was relaxing. He stroked the prince's dark hair, eyes half-closed, while gentle pleasure washed through him. He was almost asleep again when he heard Loki's chuckle.
"Wake up, Sid. I'm afraid there's no lingering in bed tonight, however pleasant the thought."
Still languid and sleepy, Sid got out of bed and dressed, yawning.
"Did I take too much?" asked Loki before they left the room. He tilted Sid's face up, silvery eyes filled with concern.
"No," replied Sid. "But I'm hungry, too."
"I'm sure Lord Cathrun's staff will have something for you."
The prince was right. A large breakfast was set out in a small dining room. Misha was already there, busily shoveling in mouthfuls of scrambled eggs and thick, sweet ham. He waved a fork in greeting. As Sid took a seat, Misha's eyes narrowed.
"It looks like the prince was hungry. You'd best eat as much as you can."
Sid needed no urging, wolfing down everything set before him.
Outside, the two young Men found their ilthi standing beside a group of large, sleek ilthiyan horses. Nearby was a wagon with two smaller Gaian horses hooked up to it. Servants rushed back and forth, loading the wagon with supplies.
As Misha and Sid approached, Lord Cathrun nodded to his fellow ilthi then turned and strode back toward the house.
"Let's go!" Loki called, seeing the two humans. "Sid, you take the wagon."
Sid looked enviously at the ilthiyan horses, but got obediently into the wagon, picking up the reins. The others mounted up.
Sid was not unfamiliar with driving carts and wagons, having done some during his occasional stints of gainful employment. He guided the vehicle out onto a rutted road behind the others as they made their way east, toward the hills.
The sleeping countryside rolled slowly by. Sid' spirit rose as they passed fields of ripe wheat and narrow country lanes. To the south, he caught a glimpse of tiled roofs; human cottages, according to Loki.
They soon left the valley lowland behind, climbing into the rolling foothills. The Reifu Mountains were still little more than black silhouettes in the distance. Signs of human habitation dwindled and soon they were riding through overgrown meadow stretching in all directions. Ahead, not too far away, the forest began.
Sid looked back, trying to see where they'd been. Tiny lights were sprinkled along the lowland; he imagined he could pick out Lord Cathrun's estate.
"Prince Loki?"
The prince looked over his shoulder.
"Those lights -- they're moving."
Loki frowned and turned back. He said something in a sharp voice and the duke looked around, as well.
"Go!" shouted Thorne then. "Get into the woods! Hurry!"
Sid's heart leapt and he chucked the reins, urging the team into a shambling trot. The riders pulled ahead easily.
Heart pounding, Sid urged his horses to a gallop. The wagon bounced and swayed dangerously. The woods seemed impossibly far away. Looking over his shoulder, he tried to make out the moving lights, but the wind whipped his hair into his eyes and the wagon's bouncing made it hard to fix on anything.
Far ahead, Thorne, Loki and Misha vanished into the deeper shadows of the night-bound forest. Feeling alone and vulnerable, Sid coaxed greater speed from his struggling horses. Another glance over his shoulder sent his heart to racing painfully. Behind him, fine beams of white light raked back and forth across the night, making their inexorable way in his direction.
He was coming up fast on the woods. Sid blinked streaming eyes, trying to discern an opening in the wall of trees large enough to accommodate the wagon. It was too dark. He would have to guess. A low rumble filled the night, audible above the rush of wind in his ears and the noise of the horses and wagon.
Suddenly, a rider burst out of the trees, heading back toward him. It was Loki! Throwing another desperate look behind, Sid was horrified to see the lattice of light beams cutting through the dark -- too close!
The ilthiya was upon him. Sid had time only to gasp as Loki launched himself from the saddle, landing on the wagon beside him.
"Give me the reins!" shouted the prince.
Wasting no time, Sid handed them over. Loki hunched forward, eyes narrowing and pulled hard to the right. Sid was left with no choice but hang on for dear life.
His heart nearly stopped seeing the trees rear up before him. The wagon bounced wildly, nearly throwing him from his seat.
"Get down!" cried Loki as branches seemed to leap out of the dark, hitting Sid in the face.
Sid dropped onto the floor, shielding his head with his arms as the wagon lurched forward. Branches snapped; pine needles, twigs and leaves rained down around them. At any moment, Sid expected the wagon to crash, but somehow, thanks to the ilthiya's night vision, they avoided direct collision, bouncing and rocking as Loki slowly drew back on the reins.
They stopped. Sid warily lifted his head. In the sudden quiet, the rumbling noise seemed twice as noticeable. Ahead, white light suddenly pierced the thick forest canopy, briefly illuminating the ground before disappearing again.
The shadowy forms of Misha and Thorne were a short distance away, still mounted. Everyone kept still, watching the light appear and disappear as the flyers raked the forest's edge with their searchlights.
"They have heat sensors," said Loki. "Why haven't they found us?"
It was impossible to make out details in the dark, but Sid suspected Thorne was smiling. "I took precautions," he replied. "They'll give up soon."
Sure enough, after a few minutes of tense waiting, the lights vanished and the rumbling faded. Another light appeared, this from a lantern swinging from Misha's hand.
"I included a field generator in our supplies," said Thorne, guiding his horse over to the wagon. "Nice driving, Sviatsoslav. It looks like we didn't lose anything." He paused, looking over his shoulder. "Misha, see if you can find His Highness' horse."
Misha nodded and rode back toward the meadow.
"There's a road not far from here," said Thorne. "It's in pretty bad shape, but it's sheltered by trees and we should remain undetected. Stay close, though. It's a small FG."
Misha returned shortly, leading Loki's horse. The prince stayed in the wagon, however, driving it carefully through the trees until, as promised, they came upon a narrow lane winding through the woods. Then he dismounted and, to Sid's relief, lit two lanterns and hung them on short poles on either side of the seat, giving Sid enough light to see the road.
They went on in silence, the road like a tunnel in the dark, winding back and forth, going ever upward. Not until the forest began to turn a misty grey did Thorne call a halt.
"We'll stop for a few hours to rest the horses," he said, "but we dare not linger. They'll send their human hunters after us."
Uneasily, Sid remembered the men who had helped the ilthi ravage the villages in Ladijess Valley. He would have preferred to keep going, but the horses pulling the wagon were exhausted.
He and Misha rubbed them down and brought out feed-bags from the back of the wagon. While they worked, the ilthi sat beneath a thick fir tree, talking quietly.
"Who's following us?" asked Sid in a low voice.
Misha shook his head. "The prince's brother or sister? Gabriel said they were very eager to know where we were going."
"What about the king?"
"I don't know," said Misha. "I just want to go home. If I never lay eyes on Neminora again, it will be too soon!"
The four of them had breakfast; bacon and rolls for the Men, fruit for the ilthi. With the humans taking watch, the ilthi slept in the shelter of the fir and the horses grazed on the tall grass at the side of the road.
As the sun neared zenith, Misha woke the vampires and they hooked the horses up to the wagon again. Loki and Thorne left the road for the deep shadow of the wood. Sid glimpsed them now and again, or heard snatches of laughter from among the trees. He, on the other hand, reveled in the sunlight filtering down through the leaves, enjoying its brief warmth on his skin. Misha rode alongside him, the two of them talking of this or that. Sid could almost forget they were hunted.
"How often to do you see your family?" asked Sid.
"A few times a year, although I see my elder brother more often, of course."
"The village in the trees? I'd like to see that."
"I'll ask my brother. I don't think Eric will object. He's very kind, even if he is something of a stick."
"Why do you say that?"
"Eric thinks I should get married to a woman and have children, like all our father's sons. But, as long as Father approves, he can't say much." Misha grinned mischievously. "What about your family? What would they say if they knew you were rhorani to a ilthiya?"
"I don't even want to think about it."
"You don't talk about them," said Misha. "Why is that?"
"I haven't seen my family for... for years."
"Why not?"
Sid just shrugged, uneasy as always when the subject was raised.
"Is it true you can be imprisoned or killed if you have no family?" asked Misha.
"Yes. The sages are very strict. Jessahana said in her Admonishments that Gaia had a purpose for us and only by obeying Her will could we flourish. Just as She determines the mating of the beasts, She determines ours, as well."
Misha's lip curled. "That's silly. The animals choose their own mates, they don't have some council do it for them."
"We aren't the same as the animals, we're Her stewards of the land. Because our ancestors ignored Gaia's will in our past, we've become corrupted as a race. We can't trust ourselves to know what's best."
"Do you really believe that?" Misha was incredulous.
Sid was silent. "Not so much as I once did," he said finally.
"I think it's ridiculous." The other Man snorted in derision. "The sages just want to control everyone."
"Even the ilthi have a king," Sid retorted. "What's the difference?"
"He doesn't tell his subjects who to wed or where to live."
"You sound like you admire them!"
"I admire Gabriel and any ilthiya like him."
"They're all killers!" Sid lowered his voice. "You weren't there the night they slaughtered those people in their damned hunt! Even children! You weren't there the night Loki abducted me and made me his damned slave!"
"Do you hate it so much?"
Sid shut his mouth and turned his head, jaw clenched. He wanted to answer the affirmative, but honesty stayed his tongue, a circumstance that only added to his anger. They rode on silence.
They rode for five days, pausing only long enough to rest the horses before pushing on again. From time to time, there were signs of pursuit: frequent fly-overs at first then, as they got deeper into the mountains, the distant rumble of noisy skip engines.
On the evening of the sixth day, Thorne called a halt beside a waterfall. He waited until Sid maneuvered the wagon close, then announced they were splitting up.
"Misha and Sid will go on to Thorne House," he said. "You and I will be going north a bit first."
"Why?" Loki was in no mood to separate from Sid. There had been little opportunity to make love to his delightful slave for the entire trip and he was feeling the lack.
"Because there is something I need," replied Thorne, his tone equally testy.
"Dreamflower?"
It hadn't escaped Loki's notice that the duke had not indulged in his addiction since they'd embarked on their dash through the mountains.
"Not this time."
Loki had no idea where they were. Furthermore, the determination of their pursuers disconcerted him. Someone was going to a great deal of effort and expense to track them down. He'd begun to think his siblings had nothing to do with it. Regardless, he was in no hurry to find out.
"All right," he said. "But it better be quick, whatever it is."
Sid looked no happier to part with Loki, a small bit of consolation.
"I'll see you soon," Loki promised. "Try not to get into trouble."
Sid grinned -- unconvincingly in Loki's opinion, which only endeared him more to the prince, who promptly seized him, kissing him passionately and leaving him breathless.
"What's so important that they can't be with us?" he demanded after the Men were out of their sight.
"You'll see," promised the duke and no probing from Loki elicited any further information.
Thorne didn't stop at daybreak. As had become their custom, they continued on, keeping to the deepest parts of the woods, blankets over their heads and shoulders to hold the worst of the light at bay. It was shady enough not to require use of their nictating membranes, but still bright enough to be uncomfortable. Only at noon did they stop, taking shelter and waiting out the glare.
Shortly after dusk that night, they emerged from the forest. Their horses' hooves rang on pavement beneath a carpet of dead leaves and moss. Before Loki could comment, however, his mount's ears went back and it tossed it's head.
"Dismount!" ordered Thorne, sliding from the saddle at once. His own animal danced nervously, whinnying its distress.
Loki hastily did as Thorne said. A moment later, the ground jerked hard, as if as a giant had struck it a mighty blow.
"Earthquake?" exclaimed Loki, diverted. He'd never experienced such a thing.
"The first part," said Thorne. "Hang on."
No sooner had the warning left his lips than the ground moved again, this time a violent swaying that sent Loki staggering back and forth in a struggle to keep his balance. The movement seemed to go on forever, although it was likely only a few seconds. When it ended, the mountainside was left in a deep, expectant hush.
"There will be aftershocks," promised Thorne grimly. "We'll walk the horses for awhile."
"Where are we?" Loki asked, starting after the duke. "Is this one of our roads?"
"Yes. It leads to the old research station."
"Is that where we're going?"
Ahead, a crack had opened up in the road, neatly bisecting it. They stepped over and went on.
"Yes."
"I thought it was destroyed."
"It was, mostly." The duke didn't seem in the mood for talk. He was pale, his mouth set tightly.
"Are you all right?" asked Loki.
"I'm in no immediate danger," replied the duke. "As you pointed out, I've not had any dreamflower in awhile and my body objects."
"You could use the opportunity to quit it completely."
Thorne's lip curled and he didn't deign answer. They went on in silence.
They experienced several more small tremblers over the night. Near dawn, their road disappeared altogether, buried beneath rock slides. Some were quite old, grown over with vegetation, small trees taking root in the tumble of stones and dirt. Others were more recent, leaving raw scars in the surrounding hills. As the sky pearled in the east, Loki saw evidence of the research center in the valley below, a scattering of grey, rectangular shapes among the green.
From the hills above, the complex did not look greatly damaged. It was only when they approached it on the valley floor that Loki saw the extent of the destruction. Walls were riven, large portions fallen onto the ground, roofs collapsed. Scrub brush grew up through broken flooring. The roads and pavement between buildings had been reduced to rubble. Birds nested in the sagging rafters and small creatures skittered away to safety among the piles of crumbled masonry.
There were no signs of tech. As Thorne had said, he'd gotten rid of it all before abandoning the place.
The sun peeped over the distant peaks; long rays of light slanted into the valley, illuminating the ruin. Thorne quickened his pace, winding through them until he came to small shed, one of the only structures still standing. Made of concrete with a heavy iminium door, it was overgrown with vines. The door bore evidence of attempts to breech it, deep dings and scratches.
"Humans," said Thorne without interest when Loki pointed them out. "Once we abandoned this place, they were all over it. They couldn't get in, though, and I doubt if they've been back."
The ground around the shed didn't show any signs of recent visits, true enough. Still, Loki looked over his shoulder uneasily.
Thorne hit one of the concrete blocks beside the door with his fist. It slid open, revealing a keypad, still alive with blinking red lights. By now, Loki was accustomed to seeing the duke enter his code and the door open obediently. A wash of stale air flowed past them. Somewhere below, Loki heard the muffled clank of fans starting.
"Come," said Thorne. "This won't take long -- I hope."
Loki, interest firmly caught, followed the eccentric duke into the shed. Lights flickered and came on. Underfoot was a steel platform from which descended a zigzagging stairway, also metal. It swayed alarmingly as they started down.
"This is not good," muttered Thorne, glancing at the moisture-stained, concrete walls. Visible cracks ran through it. In places, the supports bolted in the wall jiggled, sending bits of dust and gravel into the dark well beneath them. "I don't know how much longer the bunker will withstand the quakes."
The lights flickered now and then, another disquieting sign. Ilthi were at home beneath ground, but not if there was no way into the open. Loki looked up at the swaying steel contraption and hoped for the best.
They reached the bottom at last. The room was not large, but it was crammed with equipment. A fair amount had fallen over, or leaned against its neighbor, but none of it looked broken.
"So you destroyed all the tech," Loki said with a curl of his lip.
Thorne only grunted, winding his way through the crowded room toward the center. There, around a conduit column, a circular console stood, shrouded by heavy-duty plaz. Without pausing, Thorne whisked the cover off. A quick dance of his fingers and the computers came to life. Lights flowed across the surface of the board and screens winked on, one after the other. A hum filled the cramped space.
"What is all this stuff?" asked Loki. He recognized some of it, the computers, a few printers; most of it looked specialized and beyond his ken.
"Geological survey equipment." Thorne continued with his rapid entry of code on the lighted key-screen.
"Oh," said Loki, mystified.
Another sound imposed itself over the hum, a scraping and clanking sound. It came from above. Loki edged closer to Thorne, looking over his shoulder. On the screens, lines of code rolled past rapidly, defying his understanding.
Suddenly, all the screens blanked simultaneously. Thorne muttered something triumphant. For an instant they were dark, then identical logos flashed on all of them. Loki recognized them from that night in Neminora's lab.
"Is that the Reifu? Did you just tap into the ship?"
Thorne nodded, his attention clearly on what he was doing. Pulling a wand from his pocket, he slid it into the port beside the key-screen. The Reifu's logo winked out and, once again, the rapid scrolling of code commenced.
"What the hell are you doing?" demanded Loki, beginning to wonder about Thorne's intentions. "Does my father know what you're doing?"
"Yes."
"What are you doing?"
"Reprogramming the Reifu's sensors."
"What? You can do that from here?"
Thorne didn't answer. He watched the data flying past with fierce concentration, now and then, touching the key-screen.
Should he be allowing this? Somehow, Loki doubted his father had any idea what the duke was up to. He thought again of their pursuers. Maybe it wasn't Alaric or Kat who had been following him. Rarely beset by ambivalence, Loki didn't much like it.
"Thorne..."
"Done!" Triumph rang in the duke's voice. He pulled out the wand and returned it to his pocket. With a sweep of his hand, he shut down the console. The sudden silence was almost as disconcerting as what had gone before.
"Now," said the duke. "We wait."
The First Sage, Jessahana, arose from the cesspool of a humanity that had willfully rejected Gaia. She led the faithful few from the inevitable destruction into a world of peace and light where the chaos of undisciplined human desires were given over to the divine order of Gaia. Although we stand upon the ruins of our evil past, we keep close the knowledge of that time that we may never again tread the path to destruction.
from Reflections on the Life of A Sage
"Here," Misha said suddenly. "We stop here."
Sid drew back on the reins. Thunder rumbled across the mountains and the wind rattled the branches overhead. Misha jumped down from the wagon and ran into the trees, leaving Sid staring after him.
"Misha? Misha?"
"I'll be right there!" came Misha's voice, floating back to him. "Just a minute!"
Sid sat anxiously, looking around at the darkening forest. Another roll of thunder sounded.
"Hurry up!" he called. "Or we'll be caught in the storm!"
His response was another rumble, but this wasn't of thunder. A moment later, accompanied by snapping twigs and falling leaves, a skid burst out of the undergrowth, Misha at the controls. While Sid was forced to deal with the startled horses, Misha landed the vehicle nearby.
"Help me get the supplies on," he said.
"What about the horse and wagon?"
"We'll unhook the horses. The villagers will come get them later."
They were near Thorne House? That prospect was enough to send Sid scrambling to help Misha unload the wagon, piling the boxes and crates onto the wide, flat bed of the skid. Then, while Misha tied them down, Sid ran to free the horses from their traces. Lightning flashed, illuminating the forest in brilliance. He scrambled onto the skid.
"Hold on!" shouted Misha, and they were off.
The storm burst over them as they sped out of the forest and across the cliff tops. Sid hunkered down, heart in his mouth as the winds buffeted the heavily laden vehicle. There was a dangerous moment as they descended the cliffs where the updraft nearly overset them, but Misha was a skilled pilot and they landed on the south tower amid a welter of rain.
"Leave it!" shouted Misha when Sid started to untie the supplies. "They're all in waterproof cases!"
Sid needed no persuading. He ran after Misha, following him into the tower and down the winding stairs.
Once inside the main building, Misha lit a lamp. Wet and breathless, Sid looked around.
"Yuck," said Misha, making a face. "It's obvious no one has been here for awhile. It's too late to get anyone up here tonight, but first thing in the morning, I'm going to bring as many of Eric's people up here as I can to set this place to rights."
The neglect was obvious. Usually pristine floors were dull with dust and littered with dead leaves and bits of twig from the vines and plants growing everywhere. Green scum edged the pools and where the roof was open to the sky, rainwater gathered in puddles edged with moss. The smell of mold was rank.
"You can spend the night downstairs," said Misha, making a face.
In spite of a dry, comfortable bed for the first time in a week, Sid didn't sleep well. He missed the feeling of Loki beside him. In the morning, he was up early and decided to start unloading the skid. As he carried the first box down, however, he met Misha coming up.
"Don't bother," said Misha. "Just help me move the stuff off the skid. We'll go down to the village and see who's available to work."
They moved everything off the skid onto the tower roof beside it. Then, with Misha at the controls again, they left Thorne House, heading toward the forest below.
From the palace above, the forest appeared unbroken, but as they approached, Sid noticed breaks in the canopy here and there. They descended through one such break, landing in a grassy, open circle. All around were massive, towering trees. The lowest branches were easily forty or fifty feet above the ground.
As they stepped down from the Skid, several humans appeared at the edge of the clearing. One, the leader, was a tall, handsome man, dark-haired and broad-shouldered. His resemblance to Misha was striking. Although the older man didn't have the same delicacy of features, there was no mistaking their relationship.
"Eric!" cried Misha, hurrying forward to embrace his brother.
The two men hugged, then Eric set Misha back, looking him over intently.
"You look well, little brother," he said. "Who is this?"
"This is Sid. He's rhorani to Loki Sviatsoslav. How are you? And Margaret?"
"We thrive." Eric smiled. "I take it you've returned from your trip?"
"Yes, and Thorne House is sadly in need of attention. Is anyone free to work?"
"Of course." Eric looked up toward the cliffs where Thorne House was a pale line against the black rock. "I suppose Gabriel is waiting for you?"
"He's not back yet. 'Tis why I'd like to get the place cleaned up as soon as possible."
"Not back? Then why not stop in for a moment to share some tea with me and Margie. She's been asking after you."
Misha and his brother started toward the trees, leaving Sid to hurry after them. He heard voices: the laughter of children, the light voices of women calling to each other. The trees, tall and straight as columns, marched off into the distance. He caught a glimpse of a small boy dashing between two large tree trunks; a moment later, another came after him. Their giggling drifted through the forest.
Eric stopped and, looking up, called to someone unseen among the thick branches. A moment later, a rope ladder unfurled from above. It swayed back and forth in front of them.
"You can go first," said Misha.
Sid eyed it dubiously, but took hold and set his foot on the first rung. It promptly swung away, leaving him holding on for dear life. He heard Misha laugh, then the ladder steadied. Feeling his face heat, he muttered his thanks for their help and, with them holding it still, managed to climb all the way up to a wooden platform built across several branches.
There, he froze, mouth open, staring around and up in complete surprise. Misha's village surrounded him, an intricate weaving of wooden, railed walkways and ramps spanning branches and trees. Round, wooden dwellings surrounded the trunks, some of them built one atop the other, making them several stories high. And there were dozens of such houses, at least dozens he could see from the platform. Misha appeared beside him and grinned at his expression.
"It's -- there's more than I expected."
"Harmonia is more of a town than a village, I suppose," admitted Misha.
"I've never seen anything like it!" Sid turned shining eyes on Misha and his brother. "It's wonderful!"
Eric grinned. "Thanks. Although we have Lord Thorne to thank. Come -- let's see if Margie can find us some honey-buns to go with the tea."
Sid followed his host over several walkways and up a ramp to a house larger than the others. It was not only built around the central trunk, but had smaller rooms on some of the massive branches spreading out across the forest roof. Pushing aside a heavy drape covering the door, Eric ducked inside, holding it open for the other two.
Inside was a single, round room of respectable size. A narrow stair wound around the trunk, leading up to the next level. The plank floor was covered with brightly colored rugs and the furniture was sparse, mostly cushions for seating, a low table, and rows of open-backed shelving stocked neatly with household goods.
A pretty young woman sat in the midst of the room on some cushions, a baby in her arms. She rose when they entered, exclaiming in delight at the sight of Misha.
"Ellie!" she called, looking toward the stairs. A teenaged girl came running down to bob a curtsey to Eric and take the baby. There was a flurry of hugs and exclamations before Eric got them over to the cushions and seated.
Sid, fascinated, sat silently while the small family exchanged personal news. Eric's wife, Margie, bustled around, putting small tables beside each person and setting them with cups and saucers. The hoped-for honey buns appeared, along with a light, sweet beverage Sid found very refreshing.
"So you were in the vampires' stronghold," Eric said. "What was it like?"
"Very luxurious," said Misha, "but not a place for free humans."
"Is their technology as formidable as legends claim?"
"Yes." Misha took a bite of bun. "But rumors that they're seeking to impose it on free humans aren't true. I was present during some discussions between Lord Thorne and others. It was clear the ilthi are very uneasy about humans outside the borders using their machines."
"That's reassuring."
"You don't think we should have such things?" asked Sid. He had been looking around and seen several items that looked to him to be, if not ilthi tech, close to it.
"Not necessarily. We're not like the fanatics in Gaiastar. Some of the technology would be very useful indeed, but our people have been so long without it, we of Harmonia believe it would be unwise to adopt anything too quickly and without adequate study beforehand. Knowledge and technology can confer power on those who have it, so it must be distributed judiciously."
"Who would decide?" asked Sid.
"The leaders of the people, of course. True leaders," Eric added. "Men chosen by those they lead." He gave Sid a narrow look. "You are the other ilthiya's rhorani?"
"I -- I guess so."
"This Prince Loki." Eric turned his attention to his brother. "He hasn't brought any of their tech to Harmonia, has he?"
"I don't think so. Did anyone report seeing any?"
"No." Eric frowned. "Still, he's a prince of the blood. I am uneasy at the thought that Lord Thorne might grow too friendly with Neminora."
Misha's eyes fell.
"What happened there?"
"He -- he was forgiven by the king." Misha lifted his chin defiantly. "And was given jurisdiction over Harmonia and the mountains."
"Was he? As if the ilthi have the authority to do so!"
"You should be glad of it!" retorted Misha. "Before, there was always the risk that Sviatoslav might send troops into our lands without the slightest excuse. Now, he will not do so. In their eyes, Gabriel stands officially between them and these lands!"
"Lord Gabriel has always been our protection and helper." Margie spoke up diffidently from her place at Eric's side. "His skills have saved lives. Our very village survives the shaking of the mountains now because of his ideas."
"That's right!" exclaimed Misha. "We would still be digging ourselves out of our collapsed huts every few years were it not for Gabriel!"
"He is still an ilthiya! In the end, his loyalty will lie with them. As long as he was an exile, he had no choice but to ally himself with us. Now -- who knows?"
Misha jumped to his feet, eyes flashing. "And what of me, brother? I am rhorani to Gabriel. I love him deeply. Will you accuse me, too, of not being loyal to my people?"
"Should I?"
"Eric!" Margie cried. "Please! This is Misha! How can you say such things?"
Eric scowled, then shrugged. "I'm sorry. You're right. Lately, there have been... I worry too much."
"Lately there have been what?" Misha asked.
"Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Eric!" The woman was obviously upset.
"Be silent, woman. The baby is crying."
"Ellie is with him..."
"See to him!"
Margie, with a distressed look rose and hurried upstairs. After a moment, Eric leaned over, picking up the pitcher. "More tea?" he asked.
"What's wrong?" Misha asked.
Eric shook his head. "Several weeks ago, our scouts saw evidence of soldiers at the edges of our lands -- from Gaiastar or somewhere like. We've seen nothing since, but it's still disquieting."
"Well, you needn't worry any more," said Misha confidently. "Gabriel is back and has no plans to leave Thorne House again for a long time. He'll protect us."
"I hope so," Eric said. "By Gaia, I hope so."
Loki had always told himself he didn't care about being excluded from the intrigues and plots infesting father's court. He was a third child, a vanity, a privilege of kingship with no part to play in the political tempests endemic to Neminora. Lately, however, he began to suspect that was no longer true. What he had just seen in the ruined research complex had the capability of upending ilthi society. Just exactly what he'd seen wasn't clear, but he knew it involved the Reifu.
Thorne was disinclined to discuss the matter. His testiness made questioning him a chore. Loki found himself hoping there was dreamflower tucked away in Thorne House somewhere. A surly Thorne made for an uneasy traveling companion.
As the two of them rode away from the complex, Loki stared at the duke's back and tried to reason out what Thorne was up to. The man was a scientist, had been the scientific leader among the Wanderers. His area of expertise was geology, yet, by all accounts, he had known a great deal about the engineering of the starship itself -- enough to access its distant databases for knowledge neither he, nor apparently Angelus, had allowed on Gaia.
As the eastern sky began to pale, the quiet of the mountain forest was broken by the sound of an engine. Thorne perked up at once.
"It might be Neminora," warned Loki.
"Nonsense. It's Misha."
The duke was right. Not long afterwards, the skid hove into view, Thorne's pretty rhorani at the helm, dark hair fluttering in the breeze.
"Gabriel!" he cried, waving.
Thorne dismounted and strode to the vehicle, grabbing Misha and swinging him down into a tight embrace. Loki sighed, looking away from the passionate kiss following, and thought about Sid. When he looked again, the two had separated.
"Did you bring it?" demanded Thorne.
Misha nodded, handing a bundle to the duke, who quickly stepped up onto the skid and sat down on the bench behind the pilot's seat. Loki was not surprised to see the pipe appear. He got down from his own horse and came over to join them on the skid.
"Happy now?" he asked sarcastically.
The duke's lip curled. He looked about to retort, then shrugged and began stuffing the powdery dried leaf into the bowl. Misha, no fool, waited until the pipe was lit before lifting off again.
By the time they reached Thorne House, the duke had his dreamy look back again. Loki, however, barely noticed. His entire attention was focused on the slim, straight figure waiting on the top of the tower.
"You look good," he greeted the Man, deliberately nonchalant. "Is everything going well?"
Sid was much less circumspect. His eyes shone and his smile added buoyancy to Loki's step as they started down the stairs. He listened to Sid's enthusiastic description of the human's tree-village, hearing very little of what Sid actually said. Instead, his gaze lingered on the human's mouth, on the graceful line of his jaw and curve of his neck.
At the bottom of the stairs, Sid broke off in mid-sentence. The brightness in his gaze took on a gleam of mischief.
"Are you hungry, Your Highness?" he asked.
"That sounded dangerously close to flirtation," breathed Loki, telling himself it would be too indiscreet to take Sid right here. "Did you miss me?"
Sid's smile turned rueful. "Yes, my lord."
"Didn't I tell you to call me Loki when we're alone?" whispered the prince, unable to resist a moment longer. He leaned forward and sighed when Sid's arms came around his neck.
Kissing the Man was the sweetest thing he could imagine. The heat of Sid's body, the unmistakable desire he felt there -- his blood heated.
"Shall we retire?" he murmured against Sid's ear.
The human shivered. He didn't answer, only took Loki's hand and pulled him down the lamp-lit, airy corridor.
They had a new room; it overlooked the valley, a spacious suite with light shutters still open to the dawn. Sid immediately went to close them.
Loki stood by the door and watched him, the heat in his veins becoming a conflagration. He managed to hold onto his self-control until Sid pulled off his shirt. Unable to stand it another moment, Loki swooped across the room, snatching him up and bearing him to the bed. To his surprise Sid laughed, both of them bouncing on the bed, and wriggled out of Loki's grasp. Before the startled ilthiya knew what he was about, Sid had managed to push Loki over onto his back, scrambling over him.
"Now I have you!" Sid chortled, seizing Loki's wrists and holding them against the mattress.
Loki knew he could easily knock Sid off; Sid knew it, too. But there was something about the position, with him beneath the bright-eyed human, pretending submission, that sent Loki's heart racing.
"Maybe," Sid continued, bending over, his mouth inches from Loki's, "I should tie you up!"
"How unexpected." Loki lifted his head, trying to reach those lips which, teasingly, were suddenly withdrawn.
"You aren't even going to struggle? I....urk!"
Loki's body coiled and twisted, easily dislodging Sid. In a heartbeat, their positions were reversed. Sid, however, didn't seem the least disappointed. He looked up at Loki, eyes luminous, lips parted.
"You want to play?" Loki asked. Straddling the young Man, he bent down and put his mouth against Sid's ear. A shiver ran through Sid. He bent his head, exposing the pulsing vein in his neck. Loki moaned and accepted the invitation.
He did not drink long. His desire was for all of Sid and he played the slim, eager body with delight and finesse. Sid's skin roughened at Loki's knowing touch. He arched his back and cried out softly with each kiss, each stroke of Loki's hand. When Loki's fingers slipped inside him, he sobbed Loki's name over and over.
And, when Loki finally took his cock in hand and swallowed it, he made a sound of pure joy. His breath came and went in quick, harsh gasps.
"No!" he cried when Loki lifted his head away. "Please! Don't stop!"
But Loki had something else in mind. Licking his lips, he looked down at the swollen organ and the big vein throbbing along its underside. Angling his head, he bared his fangs. There was an exclamation from Sid, who realized too late what Loki intended.
Loki's fangs sank through the thin skin easily. The cry from Sid echoed with surprise and wonder.
"Oh, Jess!" he gasped. "What are you.... ah!"
In that moment, as the hot, rich blood filled Loki's mouth, a rush of ecstasy overwhelmed him, violent and irresistible. A barrier fell away and his soul was no longer alone. Loki's body leapt in response. He heard himself cry out, his voice mingling with Sid's, their climax washing them both away to a place bright, warm and safe: a place Loki had always though existed only in the imagination of his heart. It's name wasn't rhorani or kharizmine or friendship. It's name was love.
Due to the continuing malfunction of the Creche there is no choice but to revert to natural childbirth. Any woman who so chooses to reproduce will be honored as a Hero of Ilthiyana, and her family well rewarded.
from: Royal Edict #619.04
HSM A.M. Sviatoslav, 0972iTC/1555UTC
The next evening, Loki and Gabriel left Thorne House and didn't return until dawn. Sid was already abed when the ilthiya let himself into their room, undressed, and slid between covers.
"Where were you?" Sid muttered, half asleep.
"Working on something."
"Mmmm." Sid rolled over, nestling against Loki. Long, cool fingers stroked back his hair.
"Sid?"
"Loki?"
A chuckle. Then, "Tell me about the Fall."
"The what?"
"The fall of your ancestors? What stories have you heard?"
"Just what everyone else knows. They used technology like yours, but theirs was destroying Gaia, so Gaia destroyed them." He yawned. "But you know that. I saw the same stories in the book I read at Neminora."
"I know the official story, but it's a little short on detail. How did Gaia do it? Floods? Fire? Surely there are legends, rumors, speculation -- anything?"
Sid had vague memories of stories told in the foundling home, horrifying tales of death and destruction. "All of those things, I guess. Why?"
Loki fell back into the pillow, his arms folded behind his head. He stared up into the darkened ceiling. "A meteorite of sufficient size could cause them, I suppose."
"Loki?" Shifting up onto one elbow, Sid looked down into the ilthiya's pale face. "What is this about?"
"You've heard about anamoline?"
Sid nodded. "It's the metal that destroyed your starship's engines."
"Right." Loki was silent a moment, gaze distant. "The thing is, the Wanderers always assumed anamoline was native to this planet."
Sid said nothing, not sure where this was going.
"But what if it isn't?
Assuming the question was rhetorical, Sid waited.
"What if a large meteor made of the stuff hit Gaia? The consequences could have brought a small human population to the edge of extinction and account for the relatively small amount of anamoline that actually exists."
"What are you talking about?" asked Sid.
"There are actually only three anamoline deposits on Gaia. Subsequently, Gabriel believes it might be possible to neutralize the stuff, at least enough to free the Reifu's engines from its effects. He's spent his years in exile working on how to reprogram the Reifu's main sensor array to get a precise reading. It's the main reason he agreed to return to Neminora. If he's right... If it's possible -- we ilthi could leave."
Thunderstruck, Sid stared at him. "Leave?"
"That's right. Would you like that, Sid? An ilthi-free Gaia?"
"I -- I don't know." Sid found the thought unexpectedly unsettling. He got out of bed and crossed the room to the fireplace. Crouching on the hearth, he held his hands out to the warmth, the actions covering his confusion. He remembered the night before, the unbelievable lovemaking they had shared. What had happened?
"Why the hesitation?" Loki sat up, drawing his knees to his chest. "I should think the thought would elate you."
"Why?" Sid stared into the flames. "I have no love for the sages. They've made my life hell and if you leave, their power will be absolute."
There was no reply from the bed.
"Why not leave things as they are? Do you know what I think?"
"No. What?"
"I think Gaia brought you here to make a balance." Sid groped for the right words. "Neither the sages nor the ilthi have absolute power and that is a good thing, I think."
"Except it won't stay that way."
Sid looked around. Loki was very still, his face unreadable in the gloom. "We're dying, Sid. Once the Creche went down, we lost our ability to reproduce. Few of our women are like my mother was, choosing death to bring forth new life. In the past fifty years, our population has dropped fifteen percent and continues to fall. Meanwhile, in spite of your sages and their control of human births, your population grows -- slightly, but it is growing. And, increasingly, you are embracing our technology. The day will come when we will be utterly at your mercy. We can fight that day. We can put it off, but it is coming."
"If you leave, take me with you." Sid's heart beat very fast. He clenched his fists on his knees, looking back into the fire, afraid to let Loki see how much it mattered.
"Sid..."
"If you go, I don't want to stay. My people don't want me! You saw what sort of life I had when you took me in Ladijess Valley."
"And the way I treated you was better?" Loki's voice rang harshly making Sid flinch.
"No! Of course not! Not at first! But later...and now..." Sid took a deep breath. "I don't want to be alone again," he whispered. "I'm so tired of being alone."
The bed creaked. Sid kept his head bowed, dangerously close to tears. He heard the whisper of Loki's bare feet and the soft whoosh of air as the ilthiya settled beside him.
"Sid?"
Sid just shook his head. "I would serve you well," he said, voice tight. "You could choose another lover, another rhorani, one more suitable. I'd understand. Just -- just don't leave me behind."
"Sid, it's only a hypothesis. I don't know if I'm right. It may be we'll discover the anamoline is native to Gaia and there will be nothing we can do. Besides..." Loki took hold of Sid's hand, turning it up to expose his wrist and the tattoo. "What of your clan? There might be a chance at reconciliation..."
Sid laughed bitterly, jerking it away. "It's fake," he said. "Kip tattooed the mark on me and I did the same for him. I'm clanless! The village where you found me? Once they'd had their fun, they would have turned me over to the sages and I would have been sent to the mines like the others of my kind. At least my life would have been mercifully short after that."
His voice broke. His chest was painfully tight. He wanted to scream, but some tiny scrap of pride kept him precariously silent.
"You could stay here," said Loki quietly. "The Harmonians don't care."
Sid nodded jerkily. He got to his feet and, without another word, returned to their bed.
"Sviatoslav!"
Loki started. The bunker was filled with the soft hum of active equipment. He looked up from the array of screens depicting various lines of data. Gabriel looked back at him, crimson eyes narrowed.
"What's wrong with you tonight?" the Wanderer demanded. "Must I repeat everything two or more times before I get a response? You're worse than Angelus. Single-minded son of a ..."
"I heard you! You pointed out that two of our three anamoline sites are considered sacred. So what? Isn't your credit good enough with the Harmonians to stand digging under their damned shrine?"
"Tsk, tsk. Temper."
Loki sucked in a quick, hard breath. "I'm sorry."
Gabriel shook his head. "I would prefer not to jeopardize my good relations with Eric's people if this hypothesis of ours proves incorrect. Searching under Gaiastar is, of course, out of the question. That leaves us with this interesting spot."
Forcing himself to pay attention, Loki looked at the third anamoline site. A quick stab of Gabriel's finger enlarged the area. All three deposits were in or near the mountains. They formed a rough triangle, with Gaiastar at the southernmost corner, the Harmonian crater squarely in the center of the mountain range. The third point, like Gaiastar, was just west of the range, deep in the northern foothills.
"The largest town in the vicinity is Penitence. It's on a river, its main source of revenue is trade."
Loki tried to summon interest, but his mind kept circling around Sid. The temptation to give in to the Man's plea was nearly overwhelming. Doubtless, Sid believed everything he'd said last night, but that didn't mean he was right. Once away from Loki, he might change his mind. What did they know about the effects of rhorani on humans anyway? No matter what Gabriel claimed, Sid might be as addicted to kharizmine as was Loki. A few months apart and he would come to his senses.
"It's possible we could get in there, in disguise, of course, locate the source and investigate without attracting attention."
"How long will it take?"
"Eager to go home?" asked Gabriel dryly.
"Not especially, but I'm afraid the longer I lay about here, the more likely we are to wake up one evening to find Adrian Dare looking down at us."
"That one," muttered Gabriel without affection. "Have a care where he's concerned, Loki."
"You don't need to warn me. I learned his game a long time ago."
"His father was... Ah." The duke made an impatient noise. "Fortunately, he's dead. Now, about Penitence: shall we take the boys?"
Loki's feeble hope Sid would decline to accompany them was in vain, of course. The Man was curious and excited about the prospect.
"Of course, I'll go!" he said, a trace of defiance in the flash of his dark eyes. "Did you know Penitence isn't very far from the mines?"
"Perhaps you shouldn't go," Loki said promptly, dismayed. "If that's true, you may be in danger."
Sid burst out laughing. "And you won't? Loki!"
Loki experienced the unusual sensation of his face heating. "All right. I suppose Gabriel and I might upstage you if it came to that, but I still don't like it. You're staying!"
"That's true. I'm still your slave."
Loki glowered. "No," he said. "You are not. You're my rhorani. There's a difference."
He was rewarded by one of Sid's wide smiles.
"Good," said Sid. "As your rhorani, I'm coming with you."
Loki found the next few days surprisingly enjoyable. An air of excited anticipation prevailed in Thorne House, with lively arguments over how best to approach the journey, which disguises would be most effective and what routes to take.
It was Misha's idea to bring his brother in on it, although no one spoke to Harmonia's headman of their true objective. Eric was not enthusiastic, being quite reasonably worried for Gabriel's safety.
"We were planning on making a trading visit to the port next month, after the first frost," he told them finally. "But if you insist on this "holiday," we'll move up the journey. It's been a good year. We have plenty of pelts now and can make another trip with the wood next month."
So it was, a few days later, a caravan of wagons and riders rolled single-file out of Harmonia Valley, following a narrow track through the forest. The occupants of Thorne House were relegated to the covered wagons, out of the sunlight. Loki found it an acceptable arrangement. The wagon was piled high with furs. He and Sid were snug and warm, relaxing in their soft surroundings, watching the trail wind away behind them.
"The wilderness is actually quite beautiful," Loki noted at one point. It was a clear, cool morning. Gold leaves drifted down behind them, the trees brilliant against the pristine blue sky.
"It is when your belly is full and you're warm," agreed Sid dryly. "And when you can look forward to spending the night with a roof over your head."
"Of sorts," amended Loki, looking up at the canvas arch stretched a few inches above them.
Sid laughed.
"How old were you when you left the foundling home?" Falling back on the furs, the iliyath yawned.
"Eight, I think." Sid remained seated, watching the woods. "They send you to the mines then. I overheard them talking about it and escaped first."
"And yet you survived?"
Sid shrugged. The loneliness of that time was still a painful memory. In the home, there had been the other foundlings to cling to, to cuddle with, in the big attic dormitory with its straw mattresses side-by-side on the floor. Alone in the vast outside, he'd nearly fled back to certain slavery more than once.
"At first, I stayed around towns," he said finally. "People don't pay much attention to children running about and playing. I learned how to blend in. Later, as I got older, it got harder. That's when I learned to live in the woods."
He really didn't want to dwell on those days. Loki's eyes had closed. He would be asleep soon.
"What about you?" Sid asked. "What was it like growing up a prince?"
"Tedious," murmured the ilthiya. "School, training, school, etiquette, school, training, more school..." He broke off for another yawn.
"That's why you know so much, I guess," sighed Sid.
There was a low chuckle. "Keep reading," said Loki. "And you'll know a lot, too."
"Gabriel doesn't have any books," complained Sid. "That's another reason to take me back to Neminora with you."
But Loki was asleep or pretending. They rode on in silence.
Woe to the clanless, cursed by Gaia. Woe to the misbegotten child of sinners, born of unhallowed lust, for they bring only misery and bitterness to the world. Heed well the words of the sages and seek their blessing. Only then will your children be born without flaw and free of evil's touch.
from Laws of the Family
Loki had anticipated an uncomfortable journey to Penitence. Sleeping while they traveled, the wagon bumping and swaying, the sun uncomfortably close: that part of the trip he could have done without. But the nights were unexpectedly delightful. While the Harmonians slept by their fires, their watchman nodding nearby, he and Sid wandered the night-bound forest, talking. From time to time, Loki could not help himself, taking the Man against a tree or on the soft moss of a stream bank. Sid responded enthusiastically, even going so far as to initiate one particularly satisfying encounter in a small clearing on a hilltop overlooking a waterfall.
Neither of them mentioned Loki's intention to leave Sid behind in Harmonia. Likely Sid hoped he'd forgotten. As it was, Loki found himself having second thoughts, frequently, coming up with excuses to keep Sid with him. Each day, however, as they nestled in the furs, common sense returned and Loki knew it could not last. Neminora, distant and rain-swept, pulled at him. Chaos was coming to the ilthi and he wanted Sid as far away from it as possible.
After several days in the wilderness, the forest began to thin. Their rutted track became a rutted, gravel road. Signs of civilation appeared: cottages and barns, rolling hills cleared of trees and neatly partitioned into a patchwork of fields. The appearance of the Harmonians was cause for curiosity among the villages and hamlets along their way. They took to camping in recently-harvested fields at night, requiring Loki and Gabriel to stay out of sight while the host farmer chose his compensation from among the heaps of furs.
On the fourth day out of Harmonia, they finally reached Penitence. It was built along the banks of a river with its headlands in the mountains behind it. Gaia's Thread, the river was named, and it flowed from highland lakes all the way across eastern Gaia.
Penitence was larger than Loki had expected and much older. A portion of the city, built along the highest hills, was of stone, the buildings curiously uniform in size and shape. Among them was Penitence's Home, a structure which, from afar, bore more than a passing resemblance to Thorne House. The rest of the city was wood and stone, with the poorest dwellings crowding the banks of the Thread and bearing evidence of the river's annual flooding.
Also along the river was a bustling neighborhood of inns and hotels accommodating the city's main business as a port of trade. Towns and villages up and down the Reifu's foothills brought their goods here to be loaded on river barges and shipped down the Thread to the rest of Gaia. Likewise, goods from Gaia came here, to the eastern edge of the country. During harvest time, the streets were especially crowded and the air rang with the many and varied dialects of human Gaia.
Eric chose a large inn built on stilts over the river, one the Harmonians had patronized in previous visits. He hired two large, dormitory style rooms on the upper floors, the smaller reserved for the two ilthi and their rhorani. There was a back stairs, perfect for smuggling Gabriel into the inn, his white hair and crimson eyes difficult to disguise, even at night.
With that in mind, the first order of business was for the Men to procure some hair dye. Sid and Misha left, money in hand, to scour the lower markets. Loki stretched out on one of the lumpy beds with a fond hope of catching a few more hours sleep, but Gabriel had other ideas. After rummaging about in one their packs, he came up with an obviously home-made contraption of steel and wire.
"Anamoline sensor," he said. "It should lead us to the spot. I don't want to linger here."
"Agreed," said Loki. He regarded the device with doubt. "Will that work?"
"Of course." Gabriel fussed with it for a moment. There was click, then a low hum. The duke turned slowly around, holding the sensor out. He stopped, facing northeast. "It seems we should go in this direction."
Loki abandoned attempts to sleep. He moved across the room to their single, small window and took up a seat beside it. Their room faced the street, looking over a wide, wooden deck set with tables and benches. A walkway led from the deck to shore where a street bustled with people, carts and wagons. The sheer vibrancy of the scene fascinated him. How could others of his kind see only cattle? These were beings every bit as vital and formidable as the ilthi. Were it not for the cataclysm in their distant past, humans might even now be roaming the stars. They might have been potential allies against the irthi, the ever-present shadow hanging over his people.
Suddenly, he caught sight of a familiar auburn head. Sid was running, Misha close behind. They dodged through the crowd, racing up the walkway and across the deck, leaving patrons at the tables staring after them in bemusement.
"Trouble," said Loki, turning and striding to the bed. He dragged his stinger out from under the mattress, hearing footsteps growing louder up the stairs. Gabriel, throwing his cloak on and hood up, went to the door and slid aside the latch. He opened it and the two Men burst in, breathless and pale.
"Maxton!" gasped Sid before either ilthi could speak. "He's here! In Penitence!"
A shock of surprise kept Loki frozen in place for what seemed an eternity. Then a rush of anger so hot and violent shook him that he had to reach out to the bed's footboard to steady himself. Sid, pale and breathless, lifted dark eyes to his face and went paler still.
"Where?" rasped Loki.
"Sviatoslav!"
The duke's voice, cracking like a whip, nonetheless seemed faint and distant. Loki's vision spiraled into a small dot centered on Sid's terrified features.
"Loki! Stop!"
Loki was aware of Gabriel moving, but only peripherally. Everything took on a red tinge. He took a step toward the door.
Gabriel's fist sent him crashing back, losing his balance and sprawling. For a moment, Loki could do nothing but lie where he was, heart pounding, every nerve on fire.
Frenzy. Loki was dimly astonished.
"Take a good look," came Gabriel's voice in echoes. "It's something you don't see very often among the ilthi anymore."
Loki's pulse slowed, steadying. Sid's face appeared over him, filled with anxious concern. "Loki? Are you all right?"
"I'm not sure," replied Loki, voice barely audible. The wave of fury had left him cold and sweating. He sat up with Sid's help.
"Where did you see him?" asked Gabriel, not taking his eyes from Loki.
"Down river," said Sid. "He was getting off a boat. There were others with him, but I didn't recognize them."
The Man gave Loki a worried look.
"I'm all right." Loki pushed him away and got up. Staggering to the bed, Loki sat down on the edge of it. "This changes things," he told Gabriel. To the breathless men, he asked, "What happened after he got off the boat?"
Sid made a helpless gesture with his hands, but Misha answered readily.
"There was a carriage waiting, a fancy one. He and the others got into it and drove away. A couple of armed men on horseback rode with them."
Loki frowned at Sid who nodded. The young Man's face was drawn, his mouth tight.
"Which direction?" asked Gabriel finally.
"East," replied Misha. "Toward the hills."
That was the direction of the anamoline signal. Gabriel and Loki exchanged glances.
"It would be wise to find out more about this," said Loki.
"The longer we stay in human territory, the greater the risk."
"And if we've found the headquarters for the Knights?"
Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "That's quite an assumption."
"Is it? I had a conversation in Tarka with a scholar who pointed out Penitence's antiquity and the possibility it might be the true home of Jessahana's Knights."
"So what? Knights or not, we must find out the truth about anamoline. It's our only chance for the survival our species!"
"And if the Knights are based near the third site? They're not so squeamish about technology as the others. This expedition becomes substantially more dangerous."
"On the other hand, you will have the vengeance you've been craving."
"He's right." Sid's voice, thin and hard, made Loki start, turning around. The human's face was pale and set. His dark eyes were hard as bits of steel. In spite of himself, Loki felt a chill.
"It's my vengeance, too," continued Sid softly.
Loki smiled mirthlessly. He turned back to Gabriel. "Very well," he said. "It seems I'm outnumbered. I would suggest, however, that we wait at least one more day. Gather what information we can in that time. Walking blind into a trap has never been high on my list of preferred activities."
The next day was windy, cold, and gray, but the rain held off. Sid, grateful for his hooded cloak, made his way through the market, pretending interest in the stalls heaped high with the fruits of the local harvest.
As he approached each stall, he eyed the merchants within, judging their characters by their expressions. He stopped at a few of them, making small purchases, and gathering what information he could without arousing suspicion. It was an exercise that had once been second nature, only then his eventual goal had been to lift a bit of food or other object sorely needed. As always, he kept his wrist turned just enough to reveal the presence of a Mark without allowing the viewer a good look at it.
"How about him?" asked Misha each time he paused.
"No."
"Damn it, Sid!" Misha scowled around the busy market. "Just ask someone!"
"And raise suspicion? Be patient. I want someone chatty. "
He chose a round-faced merchant in the very center of the market, hanging back until the crowd around the booth had briefly dispersed. The man beamed a welcome as he and Misha approached and looked over his array of produce.
"From out of town?" the man asked when Sid inquired after the price of some apples.
"My uncle and I are here from Shilsbury with a load of wheat," replied Sid. "It's my first trip."
"Is it now? And what do you think of our town?"
"It's bigger than Shilsbury." Sid gave him a friendly grin. "My dad says it even has two Homes."
"Two?" The merchant gave him a bewildered look, then laughed. "No, no such thing, lad. He's probably thinking of Lord Maxton's place. It looks a lot like one, but it ain't."
Sid nodded, hoping he hadn't lost his touch. He hadn't; the merchant rambled on.
"Lord Evon has a special dispensation from the Gold Council. There's a holy site at his estate, a Shrine. His family has long been its guardians."
"A Shrine?" Sid opened his eyes wide. "I know there's one in Gaiastar, but I've never seen it."
"Aye, and you're not likely to see this one, either," the merchant said. "Only sages are allowed near it. Once in a while, some fool of a traveler strays to close and ends up spending a few nights in the town jail. Stay well clear of it, m'lad."
"I will!" Sid nodded earnestly. "Can I have two of these apples. They're mighty fine."
"Let's go back to the inn and tell Gabriel and Loki," Misha said as they walked away.
Sid handed him an apple, taking a big bite of his own. "We have to arrange for horses, remember? Besides, I wouldn't mind a look up the road a bit."
Misha looked uncomfortable. "Gabriel said not to take any risks. Let's just get the horses and go back."
"Fine. You go back. They also told us to find out what we can."
Misha said nothing more, but he looked unhappy.
They found a livery at the eastern edge of town and hired four horses. Outside the barn, Sid pulled Misha over. "Take the horses back," he told the other Man. I'm going to ride up the road a piece and see what I can."
"Don't do it!" urged Misha. "What if someone recognizes you?"
Sid's stomach churned with apprehension, but he kept his voice light. "Don't worry, I won't do anything foolish."
"This is foolish!" muttered Misha, but he mounted up and took the reins of the other two horses. "Don't be long or Prince Loki will come looking for you."
Sid refused to let Misha know how potent a threat that was. He shrugged. "See if you and Lord Thorne can keep him under control," he replied. "I'll be back before dark."
There was only one road out of Penitence leading west. Sid found it well-traveled, however, and for a time, was one of many travelers coming and going. As the land began to rise, the road took a sharp bend. On the left, the cottages lining it ended abruptly and woods began. A little further on and Sid noticed a wall among the trees, running parallel with the road.
Ahead, a large group of horsemen rode out of the woods. Sid noticed a wagon on the road ahead pull hastily over to the side. The two men inside jumped out, holding the reins of their horse. Behind him, a woman and two children on foot quickly hurried over to join them. Sid, taking his cue from his fellow travelers, quickly moved over as the riders approached.
The others were ducking their heads respectfully. Sid did the same, heart pounding. The horsemen trotted past, a full dozen of them, wearing armor with long-barreled guns slung across their backs. He risked a covert glance through his eyelashes as they made their way past him and felt a chill straight through to his bones. Evon Maxton!
Heart pounding, fist clenched convulsively around the reins of his horse, Sid stood frozen in place. He could not have moved if he'd wanted to. His pulse, pounding in his ears, nearly drowned the sound of the horses' hooves and creak of leather and mail. Not until the last rider had his back to him did Sid dare look up.
The other travelers, unfazed, moved back out onto the road, talking excitedly and throwing glances over their shoulders at the disappearing riders. Sid told himself to breathe normally, to get up onto his horse and ride on. Even so, it took all the strength and control he could summon to do so. His skin prickled as he rode past the spot where the riders had first appeared. It was a gate, a sturdy construct of iron and wood in the high wall. Two guards stood on either side of it. They scowled suspiciously at the passing travelers, but made no move to hail anyone.
Just to be safe, Sid took a roundabout way back to Penitence.
We need a strong leader in these, our first years in our new Home. While we would prefer to live in peace with the handful of native sentients, we may not be given a choice. This world is large enough for both human and ilthiya. They live in the sunlight, like the other beasts; we live in the night. They eat of the plants and animals while we take only from the latter. Even so, there is every indication they will reject coexistence. The question for us then becomes, do we flee back to the stars or do we stand firm and claim at long last, this place for our home?
Excerpt from Report to the Council, CMDR A.M. Sviatoslav, Chair
0951ITC/1521UTC
If nothing else, fumed Loki, parting with Sid would return his life to its formerly tranquil state. He paced from his bed to the window and back while Misha looked on nervously and Gabriel continued to make minute adjustments to his anamoline sensor.
Was the Man out of his mind? If Maxton was indeed in the town, Sid risked discovery at any moment. Who knew how many cohorts the Knight had? If they found Sid, how long would it take before they forced from him the reason for his presence here? Yet Loki refused to suggest to the others that they abandon the inn. If Sid returned and they were gone...
"Would you please be still?" Gabriel's voice was mild and he didn't look up from his task. "Sid will be along."
"I'll kill him! The little fool!"
There was no reply and Loki resumed his pacing. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became. Ever since Sid had come into his life, it had been a ceaseless progression of danger and inconvenience. Why hadn't he realized this before?
"Someone's coming!" The duke stopped, head swinging around to face the door.
Loki froze, listening. Then he relaxed. "It's Sid," he growled, recognizing the footsteps. By the time they reached the door he was already there, yanking it open.
"You idiot! You could have been captured or killed!" he ranted, dragging Sid unceremoniously into the room and slamming the door. "To say nothing of the danger you put the rest of us in! Didn't you even bother to think?"
Then Loki rendered the scold irrelevant by pulling Sid close and holding him tight. "Damn you," he murmured into the Man's hair. "I was worried sick."
Sid pushed away and looked up into Loki's face with a cocky grin and shining eyes. "You always underestimate me, ilthiya. I found out where Maxton lives and, probably, where your anamoline is."
Gabriel rose, hearing this last. "Let the boy go, Loki. Let's hear what he has to report."
Sid took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Gabriel. Loki sat down next to him and was quiet while Sid recounted his activities over the past few hours.
"So, they've a Shrine, too," Gabriel said when Sid had finished. "I might have to reconsider the Harmonian Shrine."
Misha straightened, alarmed, but Loki shook his head. "No. The presence of the Knights is actually encouraging."
"Really?" Gabriel lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. "Do you have a legitimate reason for that statement or are you just hoping for bloody revenge?"
"Think about it, my dear Thorne. By all accounts, legend and otherwise, the Knights of Jessahana are the oldest organization on Gaia. If there was a catastrophic meteor strike, their headquarters would logically be the first of the collection sites."
"That's assuming this is an original site."
"We've already established that Penitence is among the oldest towns on Gaia."
Gabriel said nothing for a moment, then shrugged. "Very well. I'm almost finished with the calibration. Let's prepare to set out as soon as it's complete."
"Were you really worried?" asked Sid as he and Loki prepared their packs.
"Of course. If you had been captured, Maxton would have wrung the entire plan out of you."
"Oh." Sid looked away.
Loki hesitated. The urge to reach out and pull him close again was almost overwhelming. Instead, he steeled himself against Sid's forlorn look and turned away, rummaging through their equipment for a hand-ax and a small spade.
They went down to the mews to find their horses saddled and waiting. Misha and Sid led the animals away from the stables and the stares of the grooms to the end of the alley where Gabriel and Loki waited. It had started to rain, a light, but steady mist. When Loki muttered his dismay, the duke only laughed.
"If we're lucky, it will rain harder. Anything that obscures our activities is welcome."
Gabriel got his wish. By the time they reached the outskirts of the town, it was pouring and the wind had risen, driving the rain into their faces. Even though it lacked two hours until official Curfew, the streets were deserted as most folk sensibly sought shelter from the weather.
Sid rode at the head of their group, saying little, Gabriel and Loki right behind him. Suddenly, he stopped. Through the rainy twilight, Loki saw the looming shadows of trees.
"The wall goes into the forest," Sid told them.
"You say there are guards at the gate?"
"I saw two."
"And if Maxton rode out earlier, as you described, with a dozen men..."
"He may have returned; we don't know," cautioned Loki.
"We'll go over the wall several hundred feet into the woods," decided Gabriel. Dismounting, he led his horse into the undergrowth. The others followed.
It was dark now and, at Loki's quiet suggestion, the humans brought out their lamps, turning them on to the lowest power to keep from tripping over roots every few steps. The land beside the wall was cleared of undergrowth and trees. Some of the pruning was recent enough to spot even in the rain and dark. The wall itself was easily thirty feet high. There were no guard towers, however. Loki was grateful for that small mercy.
They stopped beside a stream running under the wall. A quick inspection showed a pipe had been installed to allow the water through, but it was small and a grate blocked the passage of anything larger than a leaf.
Loki, at a nod from Gabriel, handed Sid his pack and jumped, landing lightly atop the wall. He surveyed his surroundings, seeing only more trees. As on the outside, a strip of cleared land ran along the inside of the wall. There would be no convenient trees to tie the rope to.
In the end, he held the rope for the humans, then used it hoist up their supplies. Gabriel made it up and over on his own.
"Not bad, old man," approved Loki. "Father couldn't have done it. How do you manage to avoid arthritis?"
"Dreamflower," replied Gabriel shortly. "Let's go."
He started into the woods, his detector held out in front of him. The Men gathered up the supplies and followed. Loki, temporarily speechless from that revelation, hurried to catch up.
"Dreamflower?"
"Indeed.
"Did you tell Father about this?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Of course, it only slows cellular deterioration. It doesn't reverse it."
The ground was sloping in a gradual descent. Through the trees, in the distance, Loki saw lights, tiny blurred twinkles in the rain.
Abruptly, the woods ended. Rolling grassland took over, the open hillside descending into a familiar round, crater-like valley. In the center, as in Harmonia, rose a mound with a small building on top of it. Over on the opposite side of the valley, a line of buildings hugged the crater's edge.
At a word from Gabriel, the humans extinguished their lamps. Loki fumbled for his binoculars and put them to his eyes. The lenses adjusted quickly to the dark and wet.
"A main house and some outbuildings," he reported. "Probably stables, barracks and domestic sheds with various functions. The main house isn't as large as I expected." He swept the glasses down. "The Shrine is bigger than the one in Harmonia -- significantly so."
Gabriel had, by this time, retrieved his own magnifiers. "It looks like some kind of mausoleum."
"You go first," Gabriel said, shoving the binoculars back into his bag. "If there are any guards there..."
"Understood."
Loki started down the steep slope toward the Shrine. Wrapped in his black cloak and hood, he kept his face down to hide any gleam of his pale skin in the dark. He knew the possibility of a human seeing him approach in the downpour was remote, but he took no chances.
The monument atop the mound was the size of a guard-house and made of stone save for a stout wooden door. Intricate carvings embellished the latter, carvings similar to those in Thorne House and worn by years and the elements. There was no sign of any guards.
Turning in the general direction of the others, he waved, reckoning Gabriel was watching his every move. Then he mounted the stone steps and examined the door.
It, too, was old, braced with steel, the wood gleaming and wet. He gave the latch an experimental tug. Nothing happened. Dropping to a crouch, he tried to examine the latch mechanism. There was a lock and it looked as old as everything else.
His companions arrived shortly. While they gathered around him to form a shield, he lit one of the lamps to have a closer look.
"I can probably open that," said Sid.
"Ah, our thief," Loki said, grinning. He shifted aside to give Sid room.
"I need something to pick it with."
Gabriel handed down a piece of sturdy wire. Sid, after testing its strength, nodded and began fiddling with it, pushing it in and out of the lock. Loki, meanwhile, threw frequent glances over his shoulder at the house.
There was a click. With a hideously loud screeching, the latch moved under the pressure of Sid's hand, sending down a shower of rust and flaking metal. They slipped inside, shutting the door hastily after them.
"Can you re-lock it?" asked Loki.
Light flared. Sid's pale face was bent, gaze fixed on the door. His slim fingers were already working the wire. Another click and the young Man smiled triumphantly.
The interior of the Shrine spoke eloquently of its purpose. Stone shelves lined the walls on their right and left, filled with bones. Stairs descended several feet to a floor paved with large, octagonal stones, all carved with names and dates. An altar occupied the wall opposite the stairs. Above it hung a large gold disk with Jessahana's profile etched upon it. The place smelled of dank and death.
From the corner of his eye, Loki saw the two humans looking around uneasily.
"I've heard ghosts protect tombs," said Sid in a hushed voice. He seemed unable to drag his eyes from the shelves of bones.
"Superstition," replied Loki. "Dead is dead."
Gabriel ignored them all. He paced the floor with his sensor, moving it this way and that, fiddling with the controls. Finally he stopped, staring thoughtfully at the altar.
"I was afraid we might have to dig," he said, "but maybe not." Pocketing his sensor, he approached the massive block of carved marble. Setting his shoulder against it, he pushed. There was a rasping noise. He straightened. "Loki?"
Loki came over to him. Gabriel had managed to move the altar several inches. A narrow slit of darkness showed just beneath its edge. He exchanged looks with the prince, then both braced themselves against the marble.
"One, two, three...push!"
Loki threw all his strength into it. The altar, large and heavy, was not proof against the applied strength of two ilthi. It grudgingly slid back toward the wall, revealing a large, square hole. Loki straightened, wiping sweat out of his eyes. A set of stone steps descended into darkness.
"You two stay here," Gabriel ordered the humans. "We'll collect you when we're certain there's no danger. In the meantime, keep a look-out. If it looks like anyone is approaching this place, come down and find us immediately."
A spiral staircase of hewn rock descended into the earth. The air was rank with the scent of age and mildew. What had the Gaians' used to carve out this staircase? Loki saw no hint of chisel, no mark of hammers. His lamp's light reflected dully on the seamless, unmarked stone.
After a minute or two, they reached the bottom. Another surprise awaited. Facing them was an open door. As they stepped through it, lights suddenly came on, one after the other, down a long, white-walled corridor.
Gabriel stumbled to a halt with a muttered exclamation. At their feet, a thick layer of dust was suddenly wafted aloft, filling the air with a choking haze.
"Back!" gasped Gabriel.
They retreated to the bottommost steps and watched in amazement as the dust-filled corridor gradually cleared.
"Ventilation system," said Gabriel. "Motion activated?"
Re-entering the corridor, Loki was now aware of subliminal hum as unseen equipment came to life. The air was fresh and sweet, smelling of recent rain, telling him it came from the surface.
"Some kind of plaz-covered steel," Gabriel said, pausing to run his hands over the wall. Dull with age, it had probably once been as shiny as glass.
The corridor was not long, several dozen feet at most. It ended at a door with no latch, but on the wall beside it was a keypad -- an ilthi keypad. Loki stared at it, thunderstruck.
"I don't believe it," he muttered. "Our people did this?"
"No. It's not possible." Gabriel's jaw was hard and tight. "There would have been signs of previous ilthiyan presence on the planet. At the very least, the Gaians' would have recognized us in some fashion when we arrived."
"Look at it!" retorted Loki, jabbing the device. "It's exactly like those in Neminora!"
"Actually, it's more like those on the Reifu," replied Gabriel. "There are fifteen keys, not twelve."
"I don't suppose you can get us through?"
"I didn't exactly plan for this." Gabriel frowned at the keypad.
"Perhaps we should revisit the meteorite theory?" said Loki after several moments of silence from his companion. "This doesn't exactly suggest a marginally more advanced human society, does it?"
Gabriel, peering closely at the door and the keypad, suddenly stepped back. "The door isn't quite closed," he said. "Maybe we can pry it open."
"I'll be right back," said Loki promptly.
He took the stairs two at a time, emerging from the opening to see the two Men seated on the edge of the altar's platform. They jumped up at his appearance.
"Spade!" he barked.
Sid sprang to it, grabbing the tool from their pile of supplies and handing it over.
"What is it?" he asked eagerly. "What did you find?"
"Later!" Loki grabbed it ran back downstairs.
He and Gabriel managed to jimmy the door open another few inches before their spade snapped. They had pried open enough space to allow them to seize hold, however, and, putting all their considerable ilthiyan strength into it, dragged the door open wide enough to squeeze through.
At once, more lights went on and a whoosh of cold air flowed past them into the corridor.
"By the blood of our ancestors!" gasped Loki, standing riveted to the spot.
They stood on the highest of nearly a dozen catwalks, one above the other, running around the perimeter of an enormous cavern. Filling the rest of this vast place was an immense, spherical construction of steel beams, cables, wires and rods. Lights blinked and ripples in endless sequences through it. The air hummed.
The cavern floor was eighty feet below them. The metal walkways were joined by stairs zigzagging up and down. It was difficult to see what else was at the bottom, but Loki didn't waste any time. While Gabriel stared in shock, Loki ran, footsteps echoing hollowly as he made his way along the catwalk, looking for the nearest set of stairs.
He found one and started down, his heart pounding. This was no meteorite collection, carefully hoarded by primitive priests. This was even beyond ilthi technology!
At the bottom he discovered the walls of the cavern were lined with windows. As he approached, lights went on the other side of them and he found himself staring through into what must surely be the control room for this technological behemoth. It formed a ring around the cavern, filled with banks of computers, all blinking and humming. Open doors stood at intervals, leading into it. Loki went through the nearest.
There were more doors at the back of the room. Loki went to investigate, his head spinning. There was a control pad beside it, but no keys. He put his hand on it and the door slid open. Stepping inside, he stopped, once again frozen in place by astonishment.
Another cavern, long and low-roofed, stretched away before him. Row after row of oblong structures filled it. They looked a lot like ilthiyan data-towers. Power sang along his nerve endings; his hair lifted on the back of his neck.
Abruptly, he was pushed aside. Gabriel, face set and white, ran past him toward one of the objects. As he did, the lights came on, exposing what was surely dozens of the structures. Loki shook off his amazement and hurried to catch up to Gabriel.
The other ilthiya had reached the first of the towers. He dropped to a crouch, rubbing at its base. Loki sank down beside him. Words were engraved in the metal, revealed as Gabriel rubbed off the fine dust of corrosion. There was a look on his face that sent chills through Loki.
"What is it?" he demanded. "What language is that? It looks like ilthiyan, but it's not. What are these things?"
It was a long time before Gabriel answered. He finally rose, wetting his lips. When his eyes met Loki's they were stark.
"These?" he repeated in a thin voice. "These are eskerion generators. And the writing?" His smile was strained and hard. "It's irthiyan."
What should be done with the blight springing up on the border between the sacred lands of Gaia and the interlopers? With each passing year, it grows. Have we come so far, only to be handed defeat at the first sign of temptation? I say not, brothers and sisters! Rise up against the invaders! Drive them back into the grave of history. Let them languish with the ghosts of the unrighteous whom the Great Sage vanquished so many years ago!
from: A Call to Arms, Kemmel Triak, Gold Sage
"What do you think is down there?"
Sid and Misha sat close together on the floor near the altar, watching the hole where the ilthi had vanished.
"Anamoline?"
"Gabriel said it might be part of a rock that fell out of the sky and broke into pieces." Misha said. "If he's right, the ilthi will be able leave Gaia."
"I know. Loki told me that, too. If it's true, and they leave, will Gabriel take you with him?"
"I -- I... He has asked me to go." Misha's voice held deep unhappiness. "I don't think he really wants to leave Harmonia. How could he? He found peace and acceptance here when his own people, including his so-called rhorani, cast him away!"
Sid stole a look at his companion. In the lamplight, Misha's expression was defiant.
"The king took him back," said Sid. "He threw a big party for him and everything."
"I wouldn't trust him. Deep down, I don't think Gabriel does, either."
There didn't seem to be much he could say to that. What did Sid care if Loki disappeared into the stars, anyway? He'd simply go on with his life.
Misha rose. "I gotta piss," he said. "Can you unlock the door? I'll be right back."
Sid nodded, doing so automatically. He tried to imagine life without Loki, telling himself it was going to be much better. If only he didn't have such vivid memories of his life before falling into the vampire's hands!
Misha opened the mausoleum door and peered out, then let himself through.
Maybe he'd stay in Harmonia, Sid thought. They were isolated enough from the rest of Gaia that they'd probably never realize his Mark was fake. And if Misha was right, if Thorne remained behind, they might even consent to Sid staying in Thorne House.
With a sigh, Sid looked over his shoulder at the stairway. The silence stretched on, not a sound escaping from the hole. Restlessly, he got up and went to it, peering down. He couldn't see the bottom. He thought about going down himself, just to see, but the darkness was daunting; he had no idea how far he would have to descend to find Loki. Sid didn't want to think about the possibility something might have happened to the two of them.
What was taking Misha? How long did it take to piss? Sid scowled at the door. Gray light edged the frame; dawn was coming. A shiver of apprehension went through him and he looked at the stairs again. If the ilthi took much longer they would be stuck in the tomb all day.
The hinges of the door creaked. It opened, but it wasn't Misha standing there. A soldier wearing a dark blue and white uniform stood in the doorway -- the same color uniform as the men who had accompanied Maxton in Penitence. For a moment, Sid was frozen in shock. Then instinct won out and he leapt at the soldier, knocking the startled man back and down the steps of the mausoleum.
Sid's intention of running died at once. Surrounding the mausoleum were more soldiers, dozens of them, guns raised, faces grim in the dawn's half-light. Misha stood, white-faced, in the hands of one of them.
"I don't believe it!"
Sid knew that voice. He heard it in his nightmares. His skin crawled and he barely noticed when a soldier stepped forward to seize his arm.
The line of uniformed men parted, revealing Evon Maxton. The look on Maxton's face would have amused Sid if he wasn't so utterly terrified. Sheer disbelief contorted Maxton's features. His jaw was clenched and the vein in his forehead pulsed visibly. Striding through the wet grass, he reached out, grabbing Sid's other arm. The soldier released him at once, stepping hastily back while Maxton, fingers digging deep, shook Sid hard.
"How are you alive?"
Sid didn't answer -- couldn't answer. His throat was closed and he thought dimly he would faint dead away.
"There may be others." Maxton's voice was flat. Without releasing his captive, he turned his head. "Get in there! And careful!"
Several soldiers mounted the steps of the Shrine. One warily pushed the door open with the barrel of his gun. After a moment, they went inside. They came out again almost immediately.
"Sir! The altar's been moved! There -- there's a stairway under it!"
"Get out!" Maxton's face paled. "Everyone out of there, at once!"
The soldier gave him a panicked look and ran from the Shrine. The others inside hastily evacuated as well while the entire assembly shifted back, giving the place wide berth. Only Maxton remained, Sid in his tight grip.
"Bart! Bring him!"
Maxton's familiar colleague stepped forward. In his uniform, he looked different from the scruffy thug in Armistice.
"Bind them!" Maxton said. One of the soldiers hurried forward bearing shackles.
In short order, both Sid and Misha had their hands chained at their backs.
"Let's go."
"But... The Tomb! Shouldn't we - I don't know -- blindfold them or something?"
"Why? They've already been inside. Besides," Maxton's smile sent chills up Sid's spine, "they won't live to talk about it."
Bart nodded, his mouth tightening. He and Maxton dragged their captives up the steps where Maxton stopped and turned back.
"No one comes after us, do you hear me?" he shouted. "No one! This is a site of the greatest holiness! Only those who have taken the Inner Vows may enter!"
"Inner Vows?" Sid asked. "You're Knights of Jessahana, aren't you?"
Maxton's grip tightened with convulsive strength and Sid yelped.
"Be silent!" He pushed Sid before him into the mausoleum. "You've defiled this holy place with your filthy presence. You and your..." He paused looking over at Misha. "..whore."
Misha, white and still, didn't rise to the bait, remaining silent.
Sid prayed Maxton would think it was only himself and Misha who had broken in, but with sinking heart, he watched as Maxton's sharp gaze moved around the tomb's interior, lighting on the pile of satchels and backpacks. Releasing Sid, he strode over and dropped to a crouch beside them. A quick rummage and he was on his feet again.
"They're here, aren't they?" The eyes he turned on Sid blazed with wrath and deep offense. "The vampires are here!"
Sid swallowed hard. "No," he began. "It's just us..."
He didn't get a chance to finish. Enraged, Maxton shoved him hard. Sid crashed into the ledges with such force it sent bones tumbling and clouds of charnel dust into the air. Choking and gagging, Sid folded to his knees.
"Sid!" Misha cried, anguished
"Be quiet!" snarled Bart. There was a sharp crack of flesh on flesh. Then, in a different voice, "Do we go down, sir?" His unease was palpable.
"I'm not facing an ilthiya without proper weapons." Maxton turned to Sid. "Is it your master down there, boy? How many are with him?"
"There's no one with us," Sid replied sullenly.
Maxton's mouth twisted and he kicked Sid, hard. Gasping, Sid doubled over.
"You could never have moved the altar," retorted Maxton. "Weaklings like you or your pretty friend."
"All the Knights must be informed," Bart said. "We should put guards around the Shrine and call for an immediate quorum."
Sid's vision cleared. He looked up to see Maxton pulling something from his belt: a link. The Knight turned away, talking into it in a low urgent voice. Bart stood at the edge of the stairway, looking down.
When Maxton finished, Bart asked, "Is there another way out of whatever is down there, sir?"
"I don't think so. Sooner or later, they will come up, for food, if nothing else."
"What about them?"
"Take them to the house and lock them up. They may yet be useful as bait or bargaining chips. Send out a call for a quorum. If it comes to it, we may have to descend into the Tomb."
Bart paled. "But..."
"Hopefully, it won't come to that," said Maxton. "Now go!"
"I'm going to try to shut these down," said Gabriel. "In the meantime, see what you can learn in the control room."
Loki nodded, still numb with shock. Esker engines. Computer banks. Massive underground transmitters.
Irthi.
When he pictured the average Gaians with their homespun clothing and horse-drawn plows, his mind reeled. He followed Gabriel back into the brightly-lit control room surrounding the giant array. Settling himself at a terminal, he called up the main directory before he remembered: he couldn't read irthiyan.
Opening his mouth to remind Gabriel of that, he shut it again as the symbols flashed onto the screen. Some of them were incomprehensible, true, but many of them were the same as ilthiyan!
"I don't understand," he said, looking over at Gabriel. "This is actually comprehensible!"
"There are legends that we share common cultures."
"But I thought scholars generally dismissed those as folk-tales. There's no evidence..."
"What do you think?" Gabriel looked up from his screen impatiently.
Loki turned his attention back to his screen. After a moment, he spotted a drawer under the control board. He yanked it open. In a neat row of individual wells lay a half dozen data wands. They were slightly longer and thinner than those to which he was accustomed, but there was no mistaking what they were. He took one out and, finding its port beside the screen, inserted it. The screen flickered and divided. The damned things worked! Loki began downloading.
The irthi had been on Gaia. The monsters of the ilthi's past were real! The implications of that were staggering. And -- they had an interest in the Gaians. It was an ominous thought.
The message wand flashed; it had reached capacity. Loki pulled it out and inserted another. He was busy filling up the fourth when Gabriel called, "That's it on my end. How much more time do you need?"
"I have no idea."
"I'm going back into the engine room. There must be a circuit control panel somewhere."
Loki nodded, barely heeding. The fourth wand was full. He put in the fifth and started around the curving room, looking for others. Fortunately, each station had a corresponding drawer with six wands. He carried a handful back to his station and prepared to install the next.
Scholars disagreed just how far back into ilthiyan history the irthi went. So much had been lost by the distant catastrophe that had separated the six ilthiyan ships. Some speculated the two species might have originally shared a single planet. Others denied such a possibility, hypothesizing the irthi as invaders who had conquered the ilthi and driven them into space, hounding the six great colony ships through the stars.
And now the Reifu, the last of those ships, had fallen into an irthiyan trap. But where were the irthi? Would they come to check on Gaia, to see what their trap caught? It had been over a hundred years since the Reifu had been stranded, but time to the irthi was likely as insignificant as it was to the ilthi. They could come at any time; finish at leisure what they started a millennia ago.
The fifth wand was full. Loki inserted the sixth, wondering how much more data the computers held. A few minutes later, the screen flashed a warning light. Then the prime directory --- or what he assumed was such -- reappeared. Done!
"Thorne!" Striding to the engine room, he looked in. There was no sign of the other ilthiyan, but Thorne's voice floated back to him.
"Go get the Men. They should see this before we shut it down."
Loki withdrew, filled with misgiving. What would Sid do when faced with this? It raised uncomfortable questions about the status of the humans on what they regarded as their world. Unlike the ilthi, Men truly were trapped. Loki doubted they would welcome the irthi with any greater joy than they had the ilthi, nor were the irthi likely to be any more benevolent.
Maybe he should take Sid off world, after all. Leaving him to the irthi's doubtful mercies was not a pleasant prospect.
Loki stared at the giant array outside the control room again, astounded by its sophistication. Even the ilthi couldn't have done this. Shaking his head, he climbed from catwalk to catwalk until he reached the stairs to the mausoleum.
It was empty. He looked around, noticing at once that not only were Sid and Misha gone, their bags were, too. He drew his gun, peering sharply into the shadows and niches. No one. Warily, he stepped up into the tomb. The door was closed. Light leaked under it; daylight outside. Putting his ear against it, he held his breath.
Voices!
They didn't belong to Sid or Misha. Loki cracked the door -- just enough to let in more sound. He stood for long moments, but although he heard many voices, none among them belonged to their humans. Turning, he ran back down the stairs. Thorne wasn't in the main cavern nor in the operations chamber. He kept going into the engine room.
"Gabriel! We have trouble!"
"What is it?"
The Wanderer's face hardened at Loki's report. For a moment, Loki saw his great age with a clarity that left him shaken.
"You don't think the two are near the Shrine?"
"More likely they've been taken away, but I -- I couldn't be sure..."
"It can't be helped," said Gabriel, turning away. "Come. I'll need your help.
The house overlooking the Shrine was old, perhaps even as old as Thorne House. Its rooms had the same adornments as the palace in Harmonia, the same quaint, stylized images Sid had come to identify with Gabriel's home. If he'd had any doubts that Maxton was, indeed, one of the legendary Knights of Jessahana, they faded quickly as he and Misha were hustled through the mansion and down into the cellars.
Their guards separated them, locking Misha in one cell and Sid in another, taking the added precaution of chaining Sid to the wall by his ankle. Left alone in the dark, he tried to quiet the panic that had his heart racing and his stomach in knots.
It would be no easy task to take the ilthi, no matter what weapons the Knights had at their disposal. The ilthi had their strength and their superhuman senses.
What was underground? What could possibly keep Thorne and Loki down there for so long? If only he'd had the presence of mind to warn them!
Hugging his knees to his chest, he lowered his forehead onto them, trying not to think of what lay ahead. Even if the ilthi did escape from their trap, the chances of them risking it all for the sake of two humans was slight. Gabriel might be tempted; his affection for Misha was real. But Loki?
Loki had been clear enough. Should the ilthi break the bonds that held them to Gaia, he would go with them and Sid was not invited.
Throat tight, eyes burning, Sid told himself fiercely it didn't matter. He had no reason to care. What was Loki to him other than a rapist and vampire? If he escaped from this hole somehow, he would make his way to Armistice or one of the other cities. Even without the ilthi, those cities had little use for the sages and their moral restrictions. A clanless man might find a measure of safety there.
Time passed. The only sound was his own breathing. There was no light at all to which his eyes could adjust and the damp cold of the cellar sank slowly, inexorably into his bones. Sid lay down, staring into the dark, trying not to think. He might have slept.
Suddenly, his cell seemed to leap up and rock madly from side to side. It threw him sideways, tumbling across the cold, damp stone, only to stop with painful abruptness thanks to the chain around his ankle. Dust and bits of mortar rained down around him and he thought in that instant the world was coming to an end.
When the earth stopped moving and stayed still for several minutes, he struggled to his knees. Faintly, muffled by distance and the thick wood of the cell door, he heard shouting. A moment later, it flew open. The light made him wince, throwing a hand before his eyes.
"Unchain him!" Maxton shouted. "Hurry!"
Sid shrank as the large, armored figures loomed over him. The weight fell from his ankle. Gloved hands locked around his arms, hauling him to his feet. He stumbled between his captors, hustled out into the lamp-lit corridor. Blinking tears from his eyes, he was finally able to focus.
Maxton stood in front of him, covered with dust and bleeding from a cut above his eye. There was a wildness in his expression that made Sid shrink away as far as the grip on his arms would let him. Maxton lunged forward, seizing Sid by his collar and dragging him close. Face inches from Sid's, he snarled:
"Damn you and your demon masters! What have you done?"
"I don't ..." Sid's response was cut off by a savage blow. He choked, mouth filled with blood, head spinning.
"Bring him!"
Everywhere were signs of some disastrous event: overturned furniture, pictures fallen, cracks running through the walls, broken windows. Maxton strode on ahead, fury in every line of his body, kicking aside obstacles.
They went outside. Sid stopped, eyes going wide in shock. The floor of the crater was gone! Where the Shrine had been was now a great pit, a cloud of dust and smoke hanging over it. Twisted metal beams thrust up through the haze. Men lay or stood at the edges. As Sid and his captors started toward it, a pair of soldiers hurried past, an empty stretcher between them, a bloodied man lying on it, moaning.
Maxton hurried on ahead. Bart shouted orders, trying to get the panic-stricken soldiers back into some semblance of order.
"...the edges, damn it! They might try to climb out of they're still alive!"
The soldiers holding Sid brought him right up to the edge of the hole. The dust clouds were beginning to dissipate, revealing the size of the pit and the wreckage inside it.
From what Sid could see, an area greater than an acre had fallen in. The bottom was still obscured in the dust haze, but a massive, awe-inspiring structure of metal beams and cables stood, broken and exposed, within it.
Then, without warning, the ground bucked again, a deep, rumbling roar coming up through the dust. Screams rose as, across the pit, more of the earth collapsed, taking soldiers and other onlookers with it. The men holding Sid released him abruptly, joining a mass flight from the pit. Sid didn't wait; instinct took over and he ran, away from the pit, away from the men, thinking of nothing except putting as much distance between himself and the madness as he could.
It should be noted, in respectful opposition to the position put forth by Cmdr. Sviatoslav, that this planet is not our Home and is, in fact, already populated by a sentient species. Nor should we expect our luck to hold as regards to the iriya, whom records indicate most often crossed our path when our people came upon worlds likely to attract their interest.
Excerpt from Rebuttal, CMDR G.M. Thorne, 0951ITC/1521UTC
The injuries Loki and Gabriel sustained from the explosion healed swiftly. It took time and energy to dig themselves out of the tiny cave where they'd taken shelter. Ragged, covered with dust and dried blood, they found welcoming dark when they finally emerged up into the open. Peering warily over the top of the pit, they saw the area around it was completely deserted, but a ring of fires some distance away revealed the presence of guards.
Still, it was a frightened and unnerved force of men who had been set to watch the chasm where the Shrine had been. Loki and Gabriel overcame the most isolated of their sentries with little effort.
"They probably have the boys up there," said Gabriel, pointing toward the house. The cluster of buildings there looked considerably more secure, with dozens of torch-bearing men walking about.
"Then that's where we go."
"I'll get them," said Gabriel. "You get back to Neminora. Inform Angelus of what we've done here. He knows where the remaining shuttle is hidden and will be able to get to the Reifu and start up the primary engines."
"Are you sure the anamoline field is gone?"
"According to my sensor, it is," said Gabriel, "But whether this is the only generator remains to be seen. I won't know that until I get back to the bunker."
"I'll leave when I know Sid is safe."
Gabriel laughed shortly. "And you doubted you were in rhora."
Loki shrugged, in no mood to argue. He started toward the house, leaving Gabriel to catch up.
Around the house, Men were stationed every ten feet or so. Fortunately, night was the ilthi's friend and the Men were frightened. It required only patience -- to wait for someone to turn their head or to move closer to his fellow. Then the ilthi moved, swift as the shadows they resembled, through the brief openings and past.
It was easy enough to gain entry to the house from the roof. The resemblance of this building to Thorne House was marked and there were several openings there, leading down into the building. They were locked, but it took only a moment of concentrated effort to pull off one of the door-panels without making undue noise.
The top floor was empty. Wide cracks in the walls and ceilings revealed the power of Gabriel's explosives.
"Look at this," whispered Gabriel as they passed one room. "It looks like a library."
In spite of himself, Loki was intrigued, following the Wanderer in. Books covered the floors, lying in piles below empty shelves. Cases with glass tops displayed various artifacts, mostly more books. Many of them were also cracked and one had tipped over. In one case, Loki found what looked like a steel-bound notebook. It was noticeably different in style and material than the others. The case, too, was unlike the others. It was more secure, with bars reinforcing the glass cover. He bent over it, trying to make out the writing on the cover of the notebook.
"Field notes, Margaret Jessahana, 2966 ET."
"Gabriel!"
The Wanderer came to his side and gave the book a cursory glance. "Take it, if it interests you," he said. "There's no sign of our humans on this floor. I'm going downstairs."
Loki nodded. Gabriel slipped out, closing the door after him. Loki waited a moment, then, ripping down one of the drapes, wrapped his hand in it and smashed through glass and bars.
At once, a high-pitched ringing went off, making him jump. Cursing, he snatched the book out of the broken glass, shoving it into his jacket and ran from the room. He met a handful of soldiers coming up the hall. Bullets flew. He gritted his teeth as the metal pierced his flesh, but kept going, grabbing the hot barrel of the nearest gun and wrenching it out of its owner's hands. He used it to smash through the wall of human flesh and armor. Grabbing more weapons from the fallen, he rounded the corner, coming out onto a balcony overlooking the front foyer and a grand staircase.
A sea of humans filled the space below. Several of them stormed up the stairs toward him. On the other end of the balcony, Gabriel appeared, a gun under each arm. He gave Loki a wolfish grin and began firing into the oncoming troops. Loki followed suit and the hail of bullets resulted in the soldiers' panicked retreat.
Out of sight, under the balcony, angry voices shouted at the men to regroup, but to no avail. It was a rout. Loki jumped over the balustrade, landing in the midst of the soldiers, and began laying about with his guns. Then, through the tumbling bodies and smoke from discharged weapons, he spotted Maxton.
The Knight had Misha. There was no sign of Sid. Rage poured through Loki, tinging everything in his vision red. Barely heeding those in his way, he snarled and flew toward the Knight. Living flesh and bone were no obstacle to his fury.
Maxton, fear whitening his face, thrust Misha before him like a shield. Then his mouth opened in a silent scream. Misha twisted out of his grip, stumbling away. A blossom of red bloomed on Maxton's shoulder. Behind him, Gabriel appeared, blood-covered, a dark angel of vengeance.
"Don't kill him!"
Gabriel jerked his gun up, the shot burying itself in the ceiling. He grabbed his rhorani and was gone. Loki jumped over bodies, reaching the wounded Knight. Grabbing the shouting, cursing Maxton by the collar, he dragged him out into the foyer and leapt up onto the balcony with him.
"Demon! Monster! Hellspawn!" Maxton ranted between shrieks of pain. He struggled frantically in Loki's grip, but without effect. Loki hauled him through the hallways and up onto the roof. No one tried to stop him, though Maxton screamed orders frantically. On the roof, Loki shook him like a dog.
"Where's Sid? Where is he?"
When he got nothing more than incoherent curses, Loki hit the Man and threw him to the ground. Maxton tried to crawl away, but Loki put his foot down hard on Maxton's wounded shoulder. The man shrieked, eyes rolling up in his head, and fainted.
Loki dropped to a crouch beside him, his own head ringing. The worst of the madness receded, leaving him exhausted and hurting. Grimly he dug into his flesh, prying out the bullets, clenching his teeth on the pain. Then he waited for the wounds to heal.
Maxton stirred after the last of Loki's injuries closed. Opening his eyes, he looked up at Loki. At once, the curses began. He struggled to get up, but Loki knocked him back.
"Where is Sid?"
"I don't know."
"You had him, didn't you?"
"He bolted, the little whore! Let me up!"
Loki smiled grimly and got to his feet, stepping backwards. Warily, painfully Maxton managed to stand. His face was gray with the pain and he favored his shoulder.
"You'll never get out of here alive," he snarled.
"Your men ran like frightened children," replied Loki. "Besides, I have only to dangle you before them and they'll leave me alone."
Maxton's angry gaze dropped.
"Do you know what was in that pit?" Loki asked.
"You destroyed it and you didn't even know what it was?" Maxton sounded outraged.
"Oh, I know what it was. I'm just curious. Did you?"
"The Shield of Jesshana." Maxton stepped warily away from Loki. "Our sacred duty was its protection."
"And you failed." Loki enjoyed the look of anguish greeting his words. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the metal notebook. "What is this?"
The sight drove all sense from the Man. He lunged at Loki with a cry, hands clawed. Loki, easily a head taller, held it out of his reach and knocked the Man away.
"Valuable, is it? Good. It belongs to me now. A small recompense for the torment you inflicted on Sid."
Maxton, glittering eyes on the notebook, sneered. "Do you mean to tell me the whore has value to such as you? You - a liar and a demon?"
Loki shrugged. He was fast losing interest. "Where's Sid?" he asked again, returning the notebook to his jacket.
"Are you deaf, demon? I don't know. He ran away! What else would a clanless thief do? No doubt he'll come crawling back to you when he gets hungry."
Loki stared at the human, distantly amazed how little he cared about this creature. His earlier rage was gone, leaving him cold and indifferent. It was only Sid he cared about, Sid he needed to find.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Maxton laughed harshly. "You don't, do you? What is it to me? You're welcome to him." He coughed and winced in pain. His color was ghastly. The wound might be worse than Loki thought. Not that he cared about that, either. Turning on his heel, he started toward the edge of the roof.
"Where are you going?" shouted Maxton. "Give back the holy book!"
Loki stopped. An image of Sid rose in his mind, of the young man discarded in the foul waters of the ditch, his broken body hovering at the very edge of life and death. Returning to the swaying knight, he reached out and caught Maxton's face in one hand.
"Let me tell you one thing before you die," he said. "We destroyed your so-called Shield so we may leave this benighted world. But don't rejoice, Maxton, for what waits out there is far worse than ever we were."
Maxton might have spoken, but Loki was finished. With a quick wrench, he pushed Maxton's head sharply back. The sickening crunch of shattering vertebrae was the only sound from the human. Opening his fingers, Loki let the corpse drop. Stepping over it, he went to the edge of the house and jumped down. In the east, the first rays of dawn brightened the sky.
It was time to find Sid.
Sid's original intention was to return to Harmonia, but when he reached the edge of the vast forest, doubts beset him. Over and over, his conversation with Loki replayed itself. Worse than being abandoned was the notion of being rejected. If he asked to be taken back and Loki refused? The very thought was enough to make him cringe.
So Loki turned away from the forest. If he went back to Thorne House now, his resolve would waver. What little pride he possessed would vanish. He knew he would beg Loki to keep him, making the inevitable parting harder for them both.
Besides, Loki might have been killed in the explosion, or by the Knights afterwards, although Sid didn't really believe it. Loki was immortal. The truth was simple enough: the prince of the ilthi had better things to do than waste time on a clanless, troublesome human.
There was nothing left for Sid but to get on with his life, to use what he'd learned these past months to make something of his future. Trying hard not to let the leaden, hollow ache in his heart take root in his soul, Sid turned his face toward Armistice.
Loki, Gabriel and Misha returned to Harmonia without Sid. Loki would have preferred to continue searching, but Gabriel was in a hurry to get back.
"He'll be along," the duke said confidently. "Where else would he go?"
And Loki, to his regret, allowed himself to be persuaded.
While Misha went on to Thorne House, the ilthi took a detour to the ruins of the research complex and the bunker. Gabriel practically flew down the unstable stairs in his rush to access the Reifu's sensors. Loki came up behind him at the console just as he finished entering the security code.
"That was it!" Wonder and triumph rang in the Wanderer's voice. "By the Ancestors, that was it!" He turned to Loki, eyes shining. "We're free!"
Loki could find nothing to say. Born and raised on a planet, he'd never felt anything but free. Indeed, the notion that he was suddenly faced with limitless space unnerved him.
"The anamoline net is down! That was the only source!" Gabriel was ecstatic, going through the read-outs again.
"Then what are under the Shrines in Harmonia and Gaistar?" asked Loki.
"Who knows?" replied Gabriel. "And who cares? We can get off this damned ball of rock!"
"You're not staying?"
The excitement in the elder ilthiya's face faded. His smile turned rueful. "I am, but at least I'll have the joy of knowing our people will survive."
"We could stay here, too," said Loki. "With the anamoline gone, we'll have our eskerion again. We can breed and defend ourselves against the humans."
"And the irthi?"
Loki was silent.
"Even if they weren't a threat, what of the humans? What are the chances of their survival once Angelus is gone? Would you trust either of your siblings to treat them as neighbors on this world?"
"I wouldn't necessarily trust them to command a star ship, either," retorted Loki. "What do any of us know? The only ones who have any clue at all are you Wanderers and there is only you and Father left!"
"As for that, once you're out of orbit and into light drive again, you'll find your aging processes slow even further. Your father will have plenty of time to train you in the command of the Reifu."
"Me?" Loki laughed. "I should think I'm a distant third behind his heirs."
"Do you?" Thorne smiled enigmatically. He leaned over the console. A flick of his wrist brought another screen to life. "Let's see those data wands you filled back at the array. I want to upload the contents into the Reifu's data banks."
It was late when Loki and Gabriel returned to the valley. They went straight to the tree village. Margaret met them, anxious and full of questions.
"Misha told me there was trouble in Penitence! What of Eric and the others? Are they all right?"
"I'm sure they're fine, Margie." Gabriel smiled. "The trouble had nothing to do with them."
She looked a little happier, but there was still worry in her eyes.
"I hope so," she said. "Misha is upstairs with the baby. Misha!"
They returned to Thorne House with the village workers as the sun peeped over the mountains. Loki went to his room and sealed the solar shutters, but without Sid, he didn't sleep well.
It was time to return to Neminora. Loki knew it, but couldn't bring himself to leave yet. Hoping Sid would return, he lingered.
"If the boy returns," Gabriel said impatiently, "I'll send word. The longer you wait, the greater the danger. Angelus needs to know about this as soon as possible!"
The duke was distracted, however, by the return of Eric and his men. The Harmonian headman sent word requesting an immediate meeting with Gabriel. Misha brought him and the elders of several other villages to Thorne House. Among them was Misha's father, a tall, distinguished human the others treated with deference.
They gathered in one of the inner rooms, for it had turned cold. A roaring fire in a pit warmed the marble, smoke drifting up through the round opening in the roof. Even so, most of the humans dressed warmly and sat as close as they could to the blaze.
"Whatever it was you did, the land is in an uproar," said Eric. He didn't look happy. "Penitence is filled with soldiers. They blocked all the roads out of town and we had a devil of a time getting away."
"You managed," the duke pointed out equably.
"They say you attacked a sacred Shrine."
In the silence that followed, Gabriel shrugged. "We did."
There was immediate and noisy consternation. Gabriel raised a hand and it died away.
"We did so for the sake of all humans on Gaia."
"Really?" Misha's father, Samuel, glared. "How is causing chaos and confusion helpful? We have doubled our guards in the forest for fear they will blame the "heretics" and come after us!"
"What lay beneath the Shrine was responsible for the ilthi being here on Gaia. With it gone, so too will be the ilthi."
The exclamations rose. This time it was Loki who spoke up.
"What lay under that Shrine was not Gaian!"
"What? What nonsense is this?"
"It was a kind of technology that exceeds even ours," said Loki. "We are not the first from the stars to visit your world."
This time, a profound silence followed his words.
"If you doubt us, send a spy back to Penitence. Gain access to the mound site and see for yourself what lay beneath it!"
"They're telling the truth!" cried Misha. "I saw it -- this thing they destroyed. It was not made by our people!"
The men started talking again, arguing and gesturing. Finally, Samuel called for silence.
"We have no reason to doubt your word, Lord Gabriel. Unlike the others of your kind, you have never been anything but a friend to humans. Nonetheless, there is much about this we don't understand. We will send scouts to Penitence and look as you suggest. If you are lying..." his voice trailed away and he looked grave.
"I understand," said Gabriel, equally solemn. "I'll await your decision."
Spring green
Summer's warmth
Autumns' mellow light
Green sage
Red Sage
Gold sage, White
Summer rose
Autumn gold
Winter's pale light
Green sage
Red sage
Gold sage, White
---Gaian nursery rhyme
After two weeks of traveling, Sid found himself standing on a hill, looking down on the river and the city of Armistice. For the first time since his flight from the Knights, he felt a stirring of excitement. He ran across the hillside to the road, falling in with a thin, but steady trickle of traffic headed for the city.
It wasn't hard to steal a few coins in one of Armistice's crowded markets, enough to buy a frugal meal and warm place by the fire in a run-down inn near the stockyards. Sid sat, listening to the talk around him, nursing a mug of cider after his sandwich was gone, straining for some mention of Loki.
It wasn't Loki's name that caught his attention, however, but another one, almost as familiar, that brought Sid's head up sharply.
"...Iris Garden. Who has that kind of money, though, eh?"
"I hear they've come down a bit, what with the changes in Neminora."
Sid's attention snapped into focus. Changes? In Neminora? He looked around. Two men sat at the next table, well into several pitchers of ale.
"I've been thinking myself of going deeper into Gaia. Rumors coming down ain't encouraging, I tell you. They say the new government won't hold to the treaty."
"There are always rumors about the vampires. I should pay no heed, if I were you. I've heard that their numbers are falling off prodigiously. Our sage, Lord Brockerton, says the latest rumblings are just talk to keep us from their borders."
"Brockerton, eh? I hear he's in line for a place on the Gold Council..."
The Iris Garden was back in business? New government in Neminora? Sid rose, finishing off his cider in a single swallow.
Outside, it was getting dark and snow drifted down, the flakes light and sparse. Shivering a little, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and headed for the river. Being unfamiliar with the warren of narrow, twisting streets, it was well into the night before he finally came upon the brothel.
The Garden had been rebuilt in its former location. The mansion was not so big, but it was surrounded, as before, by a high wall. Several guards stood at the gate, stepping up to block his way as he approached. One, drawing closer, peered at him in the torchlight. They recognized each other at once.
"You!"
"Me," agreed Sid, pretending he wasn't apprehensive and ready to bolt. "I've come to see Jared."
"That's His Lordship to you!" the guard snapped, but he frowned, uncertain. "Do ye have an appointment."
"No. I've just returned to Armistice. I need to speak to him. It's very important."
"Ain't you the prince's slave?" growled the man suspiciously.
"Not any more. He freed me. You can check with him if you want."
The guard looked as if he might say something, but instead exchanged surprised looks with his fellow guards.
"Things are different these days," said the other guard with a shrug. "We should at least ask."
"Wait here," the first guard said finally. "I'll see if His Lordship is free."
The snow came down harder. Sid shifted from one foot to the next, teeth chattering. If they turned him away, he would have to find shelter. He wished he'd not spent his money on the meal at the inn. Finding a safe, warm place to sleep in Armistice might be hard.
After several long minutes, the guard returned. "His Lordship will see you."
Sid's spirits lifted. They opened the gate for him and the first guard escorted him down the drive to the mansion.
"How long since this place was rebuilt?" he asked.
"It was finished last month. It ain't the same, though. No tech. Neminora is cracking down."
"What's going on with the ilthi?"
"No one knows much," admitted the guard. "Word is, though, the old king is dead. There's a new king and he isn't much for mingling with us humans."
Angelus was dead? That meant Alric was probably king now. Would there be hunts again? Thinking of hunts reminded Sid of Loki. He wished he could stop thinking about the prince, but it was impossible.
Stepping into the elegant foyer didn't help much. Even seeing candles and lamps instead of the bright electrics didn't prevent memories from flooding back. There were more differences, however. Women were among the pretty boys who lounged about now, staring at him as he followed the guard to the stairs.
"M'lord has branched out," explained the guard.
At a pair of double doors much like those in the old brothel, they stopped and waited to be admitted. The guard didn't go in with him, but simply nodded and left. Steeling himself, Sid walked in.
The room was smaller, but still luxurious. William stood beside a table holding a wine jar. Seated at the table was the brothel's master and Fema's brother, Lord Jared. The ilthiya stared at Sid in astonishment.
"It is you!"
"Yes, sir."
"And what the hell are you doing here?"
"I've heard there's trouble at Neminora. Is the prince all right?"
Jared's eyebrows soared. For a moment, he seemed speechless, then, eyes narrowed, he said, "Interesting question. You're his slave. What are you doing here?"
"He freed me. I haven't seen him in weeks." Sid took a deep breath, hoping this wasn't a terrible mistake.
"Why come here?" Jared leaned back in his chair, never taking his gaze from Sid. There was wariness in his gaze.
"Aren't you Fema's brother? You must know what's going on there! Please!"
"I haven't seen His Highness since the death of the king," said Jared. "You would do well to forget him. If he freed you, consider yourself well out of things."
"What do you mean?"
"He can tell you better than I." Jared lifted a hand and looked around. Following his gaze, Sid saw the heavy draperies over the windows shift and billow. They were swept aside and a figure stepped out. Shock robbed him of speech.
It was Fema!
The full fury of the winter storm broke around Neminora, the wind raging against the massive stone walls and rattling the windows. Loki, seated before the fire, stared morosely across the room at the stranger who moved back and forth, straightening his belongings.
Craigs was the man's name. Fema, they told Loki, was a traitor and had fled to the mainland. Craigs would be serving him now. Loki's objections were met with polite indifference. He took that to mean Craigs was his sister's man and had been installed in Loki's apartment, as much as a spy as he was a servant.
"Will there be anything else, Your Highness?"
The man didn't meet his eyes, bowing low, just the hint of mockery in his obsequiousness. Loki returned his attention to his reader and didn't bother answering. After a silence, he heard the door open and close. The sound of the lock falling into place seemed thunderous.
If he had not been so obsessed with thoughts of Sid, he might have seen this coming. The flyers pursuing them on their way back to Thorne House had been a sign, if ever there was one. Yet, even now, a prisoner in his own rooms, the kingdom in chaos, he wondered about the Man, whether Sid was safe, warm, fed, happy. That preoccupation was the reason he'd walked straight into Katya's trap. That -- and the innocent assumption that his siblings would never act directly against the king.
Alric was dead. He wasn't surprised. Ilthi history was filled with stories of fratricide, but to murder their sire? That was almost like suicide.
Of course, Angelus was no relation to Adrian. Maybe it wasn't Katya pulling the strings. Loki stared blindly at his reader's screen, anger cold in his gut and fear nibbling at the edges of his soul.
He should have gone after Sid. Even with the tracer chemical finally metabolized, Loki knew he should have at least made the effort. Instead, he'd told himself it was for the best. Sid could have returned to Harmonia, but he hadn't.
He was clanless and had been a thief. What if he had returned to his old ways and been caught?
Later, when the door opened again, Loki had yet to scroll down to a new a page. He looked around, bemused, and met his sister's triumphant gaze.
"Kat!"
At the last moment, Loki restrained himself from leaping to his feet. Katya's face darkened. The guards on either side of her rushed forward, seizing Loki and pulling him out of his chair.
"Tsk, brother. Hardly an auspicious reunion. Didn't you hear? I am now king of the ilthi."
"You're a usurper and kin-slayer," replied Loki. He ignored the angry muttering from the guards. "I see you were careful to bring plenty of protection." Looking past the guards, he bared his teeth at Adrian. "Very wise."
Katya's mouth pursed angrily. "Adrian!"
"Your Majesty." Adrian nodded and, at once, the guards tried to pull Loki to his knees.
Loki refused. In a heartbeat, he threw one against the wall and knocked the other to the ground, relieving him of his sword. The two running forward to help their comrades went down in a welter of blood. Katya screamed, backing hastily toward the door while more guards poured into the room.
Above the shouting, Loki heard a loud report, followed by a blow and stab of pain so violent it sent him reeling. He saw the guards scramble out of the way of Adrian's stinger.
"Bind him!" snapped Adrian.
Katya, pale and furious, pushed past the guards gathered around him. Her slap left Loki's head ringing.
"You'll pay for that!" She turned to Adrian, who hadn't taken his eyes from the prince. "Take him below. Perhaps some time with our prisoner will change his mind!"
The bullet in Loki's shoulder sent waves of pain through him. The guards chained his wrists at his back, not inclined to be careful of his comfort.
"Cover his face," said Katya. "I don't want the whole damned island to see him!"
A guard went to the bed and stripped a pillowcase from it. They pulled it down over Loki's head and, blind, he was led from the room. Each step sent shocks of pain through him and he gritted his teeth. Unable to see where he was going, he stumbled frequently, only to be hauled upright amid harsh laughter and jokes.
They pushed him into an elevator and finally let him go. He sagged against the wall as the car descended swiftly. Where were they going? The lowest levels of Neminora were mostly deserted these days. Prone to flooding, they had never been used for anything important, not even storage.
The elevator stopped. The rank smell of wet stone and seawater filled Loki's nostrils. Underfoot, the floor was rough and uneven. He could feel the damp cold sinking through his garments.
A clanking intruded on the sounds of heavy breathing and footsteps. Hinges screeched. The pillowcase was dragged off his head and his wrists unchained. A hard shove sent him staggering into darkness. Behind him, the door slammed. Only then did Loki give in to the weakness, crumpling to his hands and knees. The stone beneath him was wet.
"So," came a thready voice in the dark. "They have you, too. How very unhelpful."
Loki caught his breath, sitting back on his heels as, across the low chamber, a light appeared. It was a single flame, flickering and dim, but it was enough to illuminate the fine, chiseled features of the speaker. Crimson eyes looked back at Loki from beneath a tangle of white hair. The familiar face blurred in his vision.
"Sorry, Father. It looks like I've disappointed you once again," whispered Loki, and fainted dead away.
"No one expected it. To be truthful, the odds were in favor of Alric," Fema said. "But Katya was smart enough to woo Adrian Dare."
"But why arrest Loki? He was never an heir."
Fema narrowed his eyes. "Very true, but Katya is a careful woman. Her plans for Gaia are opposed by a sizeable number of us. Prince Loki, like the king and, to some extent, his brother, was inclined toward the model of coexistence. There are those in court and on the mainland who agree and would find the prince preferable to her."
"And then there's Adrian Dare." Jared's lip curled. "He's a man who enjoys nurturing a grudge."
Sid choked on his mouthful. "The general?" he asked.
Jared laughed. "Adrian's father was killed in the war -- died in a battle with humans. Adrian does not forgive -- ever. He was also greatly enamored with Loki for many years. Allying with Katya likely serves his purpose very well."
"Indeed," said Fema. "As long as Prince Loki displayed no special regard for anyone in particular, Dare doubtless entertained fond hopes of regaining the prince's affections. When word got around that the prince had entered into rhora with you..." Fema stopped. He shook his head. "Most of us found it shocking, but it was probably the final straw for Dare."
"Indeed," said Jared dryly. "If I were you, young man, I would put as many miles between myself and the border as possible."
"What will happen to Loki?"
Shaking his head, Jared exchanged a glance with his brother. "What usually happens with inconvenient royal relatives?" He shook his head. "It was clear enough what she intended when she tried to arrest Fema."
"Arrest you?"
"Yes." Fema's face showed his anger. "Fortunately, I had advanced warning and was able to escape."
"What will happen to you now?"
The brothers exchanged glances.
"Likely negotiate for a pardon," said Jared.
"But she took the throne illegally!"
"It doesn't matter. Except for Loki, she's the only royal left. We have no choice."
"But you were Loki's steward! You care about him, don't you?"
Their incredulous expressions told Sid all he needed to know.
"Raise our hands against Dare?" Jared snorted in derision. "Why would we be so foolish? As long as he stands with Katya, no one will dare oppose her."
"Prince Loki was my lord and employer," said Fema. "My loyalty ends where my safety begins."
"I see." Sid looked from one ilthiya to the other, not bothering to hide his disdain.
Fema scowled. "If you feel differently," he suggested in a nasty voice, "why don't you go and speak to Her Majesty on his behalf?"
Jared laughed. "I'd love to see it," he said to his brother. "She might kill him on the spot herself."
"Oh, I don't know. I rather think she'd give the boy to Dare. No doubt the general could come up with something special."
Sid held his tongue. Anger and depression filled him.
"I see," he said. "So the prince has no friends."
"Apparently, he has you." said Fema and the ilthi burst out laughing.
Sid bowed. They paid no attention as he backed away, then turned and left them to their mirth.
Loki woke. He saw dark stone and dancing shadow. Then memory returned and he sat up with a curse.
"At last."
Looking around, Loki saw his father seated on a low, stone ledge against the wall. Bedraggled and filthy, the Wanderer nevertheless regarded him with the same cool disdain as always.
"Damnation," muttered Loki. "How could you let this happen, old man?"
"I could ask you the same question. I thought you well out of the way."
Loki, taken aback, covered his confusion by rising and making a show of shaking dirt off his garments. "Out of the way? If you'd wanted me exiled, you should simply said so."
The bullet in his shoulder was gone. His father must have removed it; there was no other explanation.
Angelus didn't reply. He watched Loki move to the cell door and give it an experimental shake. "What is going on up there?" the king asked.
"I have no idea. I just got back. Walked right into Katya's trap." He turned to face his father. "We found the Knights, Father, and destroyed them. But more importantly, we found the source of the anamoline. That was why I returned. To tell you it may be possible to start up the eskerion engines again."
There was a moment' silence. Then Angelus laughed softly. "Ah, Gabriel. How I have wronged you. You're sure?"
Loki went to the ledge and sat down beside his father. He told the king everything about the underground array.
"Why didn't he come with you?"
"W-what? Who - Gabriel?" Taken aback, Loki just shook his head. "He said he wanted to stay in Harmonia, to die on a planet in the arms of his rhorani."
"I see." Angelus lowered his head into his arms and was silent.
"Father, didn't you hear me? The Reifu can be powered up again!" Loki looked at his father's bent figure, worried. "Gabriel said you knew where there was a shuttle. We have only to get out of here somehow and get to it. Even with Adrian and the army under her command, Katya could never stand against the Reifu's power!"
There was no response. His worry growing, Loki set a hand on his father's bent shoulder. Even through his clothing, Angelus' skin was cold. He drew back.
"Father? How -- how long have you been down here?"
His answer was an inarticulate snarl. "Get away from me!"
Loki was on his feet in an instant, backing rapidly away. In the low light, the king's eyes were like hot coals, glowing balefully in his white face. Slowly, the Wanderer rose and, for the first time, Loki saw the multitude of slashes cut into his clothing, gashes black with dried blood. Katya, it seemed, had done everything but kill their father outright. Pity mixed with primal terror.
The ancient ilithiya swayed, his mouth working.
"Father," whispered Loki.
"Do not let me come near you," hissed the king. "I command it, Loki Sviatoslav! No matter what I say or do as time goes on, use every means at your disposal to keep me at bay!"
Loki nodded, too shocked and horrified to speak. Starvation in any living creature was ugly; in the ilthi it unleashed bestial, unreasoning violence. To see his father suffer the pain and indignity was more than he could bear.
"I have an idea," he said finally. "Will you hear it?"
Angelus just stared at him, listening. "You're mad," he whispered when Loki had finished. "It will only hasten both our ends."
"Must you always look at the negative side of things?" complained Loki. "I think of it as buying us both time."
The king laughed harshly, but those burning eyes never left Loki's face. Then he shrugged. "Do as you will, he said."
Loki nodded. He pulled off his jacket and his shirt and ripped the latter into long strips. Warily he approached his father. Angelus seemed to go very still, like a predator awaiting its prey. Prickles of dread ran over Loki's skin, but he kept it from his face.
"My apologies, Sire," said Loki, holding out the strips.
Angelus made a face, but turned around, crossing his wrists behind him. Loki bound the older ilthiya's wrists, aghast at how thin they were, the bones sharp beneath the skin. He used all the strips, the equivalent of his entire shirt, for he had a healthy respect for his father's strength in spite of everything.
The king slumped forward. Silver hair swung across his lowered profile, obscuring it from his youngest son. Loki took a deep breath and put his hand on his father's forehead. The flesh burned against his palm. Carefully, he pushed back the elder ilthiya's head and extended his bare wrist.
"Drink," he said hoarsely. "I'll stop you in time."
Angelus' lips drew back in a soundless snarl, exposing his elongated canines. Loki braced himself, but even so, the sharp, exquisite pain of his father's teeth made him clench his teeth to stifle the yelp.
Ilthiyan children were often bitten by their parents while very young; it was said to be what made it impossible to commit patricide -- a form of rhorani, perhaps. But those tiny nips, lost in the mists of infancy, were nothing to the wrenching pain Loki now experienced. The force of his father's feeding, the rush of his blood from his veins, washed through Loki like waves of fire. He heard himself cry out. A tiny part of himself shrieked to pull away, that he was dying and if he did, it would all be for nothing!
Somehow, he managed to throw himself backwards, crying out as Angelus' fangs ripped skin. His hand closed over his wrist, pressing down with desperate strength to staunch the bleeding. Willing himself to heal, Loki lay curled on the floor of the cell, summoning every iota of power he possessed to hang on while the warm dark of oblivion beckoned seductively.
"Loki! Loki! Damn you, boy! Answer me!"
The roaring in Loki's ears subsided. It was easier to breathe, but he was woefully weak. He uncurled on the floor, but had not the strength to rise. He stared across the cell at his father, who stared back with unblinking intensity.
"I'm alive," Loki managed.
"More than you deserve, you young fool!" But Angelus' voice was stronger. "Get up and untie me."
"In a moment," said Loki. "I'm not sure I can move right now."
"Pull yourself together!" his father returned gruffly. "This is no time for die-away airs! Your timely intervention helps, but it will not last, as you well know."
Loki did know. He dragged himself up until he was sitting. The change in posture set his head to pounding. Nevertheless, after another few minutes, enough strength returned for him to crawl to his father and free him. It gave Loki chills to see most of the binding strips torn. Another few minutes and Angelus would have broken free. Loki's chances after that would have been poor, indeed!
"You took a terrible chance, lad," said Angelus soberly. "But I thank you. I have a clear head for awhile, at least. Now, I want you to listen."
Oh, my love, how your presence delights me. To see your face before me is to lose sight of all else, even the celestial radiance of the moon. Sweeter than wine is your blood. Softer than the night breeze your smile. Drink of me, my love, and bring me to paradise.
from, Songs of Rhora, date unknown
On the other side of the river, the ilthiyan landing strip was deserted except for a single flyer. It sat alone under the cold, white lights. There were no guards. Foolish, thought Sid at first, but upon reflection, he realized few Men would dare cross the bridge uninvited. Fewer still would dare steal technology as complex as the flyer.
From his hiding place in the tall, brittle grass beside the strip, Sid had been watching since sunset. He'd expected to see more flyers, but with Katya in power, perhaps the ilthi were wary of mingling with humans these days. When this one finally appeared, he'd been giddy with relief.
Two ilthi had descended from it and hung about for a few minutes, talking, until a carriage arrived from Armistice. Although Sid waited and watched for nearly an hour, no one else appeared on the ramp or in the lighted windows of the flyer's interior.
Taking a deep breath, Sid gave the area one final, quick look, then ran out of the grass and across the tarmac. Up the ramp he scampered. Inside, he found it much like the flyer he'd stolen in Neminora or any of the others he'd seen since then. Encouraged, he entered the cockpit.
Carefully, he considered the control panel, remembering his own experience and what he'd seen Loki do in the times since that particular disaster. Finally, heart thumping nervously, he touched one of the lighted circles. A rumble at his back signaled the rising of the ramp. A metallic clang reverberated through the aircraft as it closed and sealed. Engines came to life.
Unlike his first adventure in a flyer, Sid could now read the controls. The flyer was programmed to return to some spot along the coast. He quickly read the control markers and found the navigation panel. A few quick passes of his hand over a lighted disk brought up a list of names on the screen, among them, Neminora! Quickly, he figured out how to highlight it and, remembering Loki's actions, confirmed it as a destination.
The flyer shot straight up in the air, pressing him back into his seat. They were airborne and heading west. He sat back and prayed no one would notice it had been stolen until they were almost to Neminora.
The moon was setting when he saw the coastal cloud bank. Half-drowsing in the pilot's chair, he came fully awake. His nervousness returned. At any moment, Sid expected to see the screen light up and someone from Neminora command to know his business. Nothing happened however. The flyer continued to glide through the dark until, finally, the navigation screen announced the proximity of the island. He peered through the front window. Sure enough, there it was, its black bulk just visible in the filtered moonlight.
Getting up, he went into the cabin. According to Loki, the seats doubled as flotation cushions. Sid pulled one up and shook out the straps tucked beneath them. He buckled himself into it The cushion was big and awkward, making it hard to move. Still, being made to support an ilthiya's weight, it would easily keep him afloat.
He went next to the fire extinguisher cabinet. Opening it, he pulled out the hatchet.
Sid had considered trying to shut off the flyer engines in mid-air, but he suspected there might be some kind of fail-safe built into them. He knew for a fact, however, what would do the job. Taking the hatchet into the cockpit, he set about smashing the control panel with it.
At once, the screeching of the alarm sounded. The control board emitted a satisfying flurry of sparks and smoke. He felt the engines shudder, catch, then fail altogether. He ran back into the cabin.
This time, he knew about the emergency hatch control. He hit it. The hatch slid open and a blast of wet wind sent him staggering backwards. Grabbing the nearby seat, he dragged himself forward. With his other hand, he seized the door frame and held on. The ocean was dozens of feet below. Below, a small islet slid past.
Jump! he told himself fiercely. Jump!
He almost lost his nerve. Memories of his first adventure in these waters were inconveniently vivid. This time, however, he had at least some protection against drowning.
Taking a deep breath, he hurled himself out, closing his eyes against the sight of the ocean rushing up to meet him. When he hit, it felt like smashing into rock and, for an incalculable infinity, everything went dark. Panic struck before full consciousness returned and he flailed wildly, not knowing which way was up. Fortunately, the floater straps held and he bounced up onto the surface like a bit of driftwood, coughing and sputtering.
Shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, treading water, he looked around, but there was no sign of the flyer. He circled in place, trying to pierce the dark. Finally, he saw his goal, the massive bulk of Neminora in the distance. Grimly, he started toward it.
There were only a handful of courtiers in the throne room when the guards brought Loki up from the dungeons. He recognized them as Katya's most trusted synchophants. They watched silently as he was escorted up the long hall to the dais where Katya sat, stiff and wary on the throne. At her shoulder stood the traitorous Adrian Dare.
"I'm amazed to see you still with us, brother," she greeted him sourly.
"I daresay you're even more amazed that Father is still alive," he drawled, letting his gaze slide with deliberation around the small assembly. "This is the core of the insurgency, is it? Father was wondering."
A visible ripple of unease went through the nobles. Katya's mouth thinned and she looked angrily at Adrian. Adrian, however, did not take his eyes from Loki.
"You look slightly the worse for wear," he said. "Majesty, with your permission?"
She nodded, a petulant motion, and leaned back, scowling. Adrian walked down the steps to stop before Loki and his guards. The general fixed his men with a forbidding scowl. "Why is this rabble on his feet before Her Majesty?" he barked.
At once, they pushed Loki to his knees, rougher than necessary for the reprimand. Loki gave them no resistence, but he kept his mocking smile. As he suspected, it was too much for Adrian's carefully cultivated control. Dare hit him, knocking Loki's head back and filling his vision with stars.
"You're filial devotion is praiseworthy," said Adrian softly, "but it's unlike you to be so self-sacrificing. Where is the selfish bastard that I know so well?"
"Did you think I could kill my father? Even she cannot." Loki licked blood from his lips. He taunted danger, but some recklessness in him would not be denied. "I'm surprised you've not murdered him for her. No? Was he canny enough to bind you, too?"
Another blow, this one harder than the first, telling Loki all he needed to know. He laughed, choking on his own blood.
"What would your father say to that, I wonder?" he asked. "His only son blood-bound to Angelus?"
"It's only a matter of time," grated Adrian. "If you do not kill him, he will kill you. Or do you think his devotion so great as to spare you, the least of his offspring?"
"I think your plans have gone to dust!" retorted Loki. "My father is king, as he was captain of the Reifu before that. He'll die when he wills it, not you -- or you, my unfaithful sister!"
"Don't be so smug, Loki!" Katya rose, striking a dramatic pose. "One way or another you will rid me of our Father. You could spare yourself a great deal of pain and sorrow if you were to do as I wish."
"My dearest Katya," sighed Loki. "I have no intention of doing your dirty work for you. I would rather suffer Adrian's clumsy advances than assist your treacherous coup in any way."
"Then perhaps this might change your mind," said Adrian. "We have received word that your human was in Armistice -- at the Iris Garden. It seems your former steward wishes to negotiate a peace with her majesty. Shortly after that, we were notified of a stolen flyer. Interesting, don't you think?"
Sid? Was it possible? The young fool was coming here?
"Naturally," said Adrian smiling, "we'll be waiting for him with open arms."
That was more than Loki's temper could bear. He was off the floor in a heartbeat, fangs bared, intent only on tearing out Adrian's throat. Katya screamed and, from the antechamber, more guards rushed in.
Adrian, however, was ready for him this time. Loki, much weakened from feeding his father, was easily subdued again. Katya, from behind a wall of soldiers, laughed nervously.
"My apologies, Majesty," Adrian said, breathless. "With your permission, I will have a private word with His Highness. Perhaps I can convince him to abandon his foolishness."
"By all means," she said. "Just remember. We need him -- for awhile longer, at least."
The winter seas of Neminora were icy cold. Within minutes, Sid lost feeling in this feet and hands. Only dogged determination kept him moving, thrashing clumsily against the waves. In spite of his efforts, it seemed the damned island only receded further and further in the distance.
It was, therefore, with dim astonishment that Sid found himself washing up against stone. His teeth chattered violently and he had trouble stringing his thoughts together, but some spark of self-preservation recognized deliverance and forced his half-frozen body forward. He finally reached safety in a tiny inlet where the currents dropped away and the water was still.
It was tempting to go limp, to let the creeping sense of sleepy warmth engulf him. Experience, however, told him what that feeling really meant and, cursing weakly, he dragged himself up out of the water until he was beyond its reach. There it was marginally better. He huddled, shivering, his gut cramped with the cold, and wondered if he'd made it or if he was now marooned on one of the many barren islets scattered across the area.
He dozed for a bit, exhaustion overwhelming him. When he woke, he was still cold, but it was daylight. He crawled from his sheltered spot and was immediately struck by a blast of wind. At the same time, he saw the familiar ragged, broken surroundings of Neminora. Relief sent him back into his niche, shaking with relief.
There was no time to rest, however. He must take advantage of the daylight while the ilthi slept and only human slaves were about. Blowing on his stiff, cold fingers, he rid himself of the sodden flotation cushion. Climbing out of the cove, he had a better look around. The main portion of the island rose ahead of him; he'd landed on the side opposite the main entrances to Subterra. Wiping wet hair from his face, Sid started forward.
They brought chains, heavy manacles of steel, and locked them around Loki's wrists, pinning them at his back. Down the long corridors of Neminora they dragged him, away from the royal apartments and into the officers' quarters. They waited until daybreak, of course. Loki decided that was somewhat encouraging -- that Katya didn't dare exhibit his mistreatment for all to see.
Adrian Dare, being General and commander of all Her Majesty's troops, enjoyed a spacious suite overlooking the southern slopes of the island. Sheltered from the worst of the winter weather, the small, walled gardens still retained a bit of their colorful autumn foliage.
It had been years since Loki had been in Adrian's rooms and he found them not much changed. As before, they were immaculate, with only a few decorative objects in view. The books in the shelves were all of military theory and ilthiyan history, the latter almost exclusively post planet-fall. The statues and paintings were heavily militaristic in nature, as well. Once he'd found Adrian's harshly repressed nature exciting. Ah, youth.
Adrian's guards dragged him through the apartment and out into the garden. There, they bound him to a pole. Although the walls kept the worst of the wind at bay, they did nothing to hold off the rain and Loki's clothes, already in tatters, were quickly soaked through.
How long did Adrian mean to leave him here, staked out like some damned goat? Did he imagine it would soften Loki up? Make him more amenable to Katya's outrageous demands? Like hell!
But the minutes ticked by with no sign of Adrian and, in spite of Loki's determination not to think about Sid, there was little else to think about! Was it true? Had Sid really stolen a flyer and was flying into their trap?
If they put Sid into his father's cell...
Loki frantically shook his head, wet hair flying. He could see a variety of scenarios, none of them good. In some, the bastards armed Sid and left him to kill Angelus, in which case Loki, in all honesty, could scarcely blame him. In other scenes, Loki imagined his father's fangs sinking deep into Sid's throat, draining the life from the Man with devastating speed. Angelus would think nothing of it.
Overcome with horror, Loki threw himself against his chains with all the ferocity and mindless violence of a maddened beast. Even when the bones in his wrists snapped under the terrible force, he scarcely knew it. Someone must have been watching, however.
"Stop him! By the stars! He's insane!"
Bodies slammed into him, throwing him back against the pole. Hands in his hair smashed his head against the wet wood and the world dimmed. For a bewildering time, he scarcely knew anything. Gradually, however, reason returned and with it, howling pain.
Someone had tied his hands over his head. His wrists were raw agony, the bones knitting slowly, torn flesh weaving back together.
"I never thought I'd see you in Frenzy," came Adrian's deep voice.
Loki blinked. His hair fell into his eyes, but he couldn't move to shake it away. Adrian looked shaken. There was no sign of anyone else.
Loki found himself dimly grateful for the ropes holding him upright; his own strength was no longer equal to the task.
"You're a fool, Sviatoslav!" said Adrian bitterly. "If you killed the old man, no one would know."
"I would know," Loki replied. "And worse, I would be forever in your power."
"You are already in my power," replied Adrian, coming closer. He seized Loki's jaw. With a gesture mocking real tenderness, he stroked away the wisps of dark hair. Leaning forward, he covered Loki's mouth with his own, his tongue thrusting deep. Loki, making a sound of revulsion, bit down hard.
"Damn you!" Adrian reeled back, wiping blood from his lips. He hit Loki hard, twice, then drove his fist into Loki's belly. Even so, Loki laughed, a choking gasp that naturally only enraged Adrian further.
"You will submit to me, my arrogant prince!" Adrian's body pressed against Loki, his fingers scrabbled at the ropes. Loki was turned around, face to the pole. He knew, with bleak triumph, what would follow.
"Even now," he croaked, "you can't resist me."
His cheek pressed against the pole, Loki sucked in a long breath, bracing himself as the remnants of his clothing were torn away. A steady stream of cursing at his back told him Adrian was beyond reason. Loki thought with vague hope that the bastard might actually kill him and he wouldn't be forced to see what they did to Sid or to his father.
Adrian took Loki with brutal force, tearing him and forcing a cry from between clenched teeth. For some odd reason, he thought about Sid and how, more than once, the human had endured such humiliation and pain. What a shame Sid wasn't there to see this. He might even enjoy the view of justice served.
Loki's thoughts fragmented, his body slamming against the pole to Adrian's angry rhythm. He was sure he was splitting in two. Blood, precious blood -- and little enough of it left in him -- ran down his thighs.
A sharp pain in his shoulder, Adrian's fangs. Warmth and lust. He cried out in fury and despair as kharizmine trickled through his traumatized system.
"Sid!" he gasped, losing track of things. "Sid, please!"
At his back came an inarticulate roar. The savage assault became a single, violent thrust tearing through his gut, impaling him on sword-point of fire. Loki felt his eyes roll back. The towering wave of black rushing toward him was the sweetest sight he'd ever seen and when it crashed over him, he laughed aloud in pure relief.
To fully honor Gaia, the faithful must tread lightly upon her. The numbers of humanity must never exceed Her beneficence lest She visit hunger and disease upon us. Look to your Sages for guidance. Let no village grow larger than its Charter. Let no family produce more children than is permitted by the Gold Council. Let no herds exceed the prescribed number or range further afield than judged prudent by the Green Council. Thus will we maintain the balance as revealed to Jessahana by Gaia Herself.
from Works, The Word of Gaia made Law, Jessahan, First Sage
Reaching Subterra was no easy task. Shortly after leaving his hiding spot on the shore, Sid was driven to ground again by the appearance of flyers swooping in low across the island, beams of light crisscrossing over the slopes. It was as good an announcement as any that the ilthi knew about the stolen flyer.
He went back into the water, counting on it to hide his scent and the heat from his body. None too soon. Not long afterwards, he saw figures moving about the island.
They came dangerously close, scrambling over the wet rocks along the shore, shouting back and forth to each other. They were the same as the Men who had accompanied the vampires on the hunt so long ago, dressed in leathers, with whips and long knives at their sides. Again and again, Sid ducked beneath the water, holding his breath as long as he could, watching their shadows moving across the sea's choppy surface.
Finally a whistle sounded and the men abruptly left, scrambling like ants up the hill and out of sight. Sid dragged himself out of the water again and lay flat on his back.
He had no intention of sleeping, but his body, stretched past its limit, betrayed him. When he woke, it was well into the afternoon and still raining. He felt slightly feverish and light-headed, not a good sign, but he shoved his discomfort to the back of his mind and started for Subterra again.
There was no way of knowing where Loki might be held. The place probably had dungeons somewhere. Would they put Loki there or put him under house arrest in his apartment?
Small patrols of human Hunters were abroad, although nothing like the swarm that morning. They had dogs, too, so Sid was forced to stay upwind.
Neminora's eternal clouds had begun to darken into night again when he reached the first of the terraces, a sign he was at last among ilthiyan habitation. He stopped on one terrace, hunkering down among a group of potted evergreens, catching his breath and wondering if he dared try entering the castle. A clatter from nearby made him freeze in place. He shrank deeper among the spicy fronds as a slave woman appeared, stopping at the edge of the terrace and vigorously shaking a rug. When she went back inside, he slipped back out into the rocks.
His path suddenly narrowed and turned into the top of a meandering wall. Closely hemmed in on both sides by the island's short, twisted trees, he found himself looking down into small gardens. It was still an hour or two until true night, so the gardens stood empty. He went with great care now, watching the windows he passed for signs of movement or light within.
The wall joined another running perpendicular to it. On the left, a large space opened up, lines painted on the smooth, paved ground. A series of wooden frames stood in a row at one end of the pavement with shields affixed to them. It didn't look like anywhere Sid wanted to be, so he turned sharply. The wall became abruptly higher, forcing him to leap, just catching the top of another, and hauling himself up.
Here the gardens were larger and more luxurious. Fountains splashed in some of them. He inched forward, feeling utterly vulnerable. Afraid of being spotted, Sid stretched himself out flat on his belly. Sooner or later he would have to get down and go inside. Dread knotted in his belly, but he was only putting off the inevitable.
Ahead, he saw the top of another tree, this one leafless, but with bare branches so dense and tangled they offered at least a shred of concealment. He crept toward it.
As he did, he saw a naked figure in the garden beneath it, bound to a pole. Black hair, hip-length, stirred in the cold wind.
Loki?
Shock nearly sent Sid tumbling from the wall. At the same moment, another figure appeared in the garden. He recognized this man, too: Adrian Dare!
Dare cast a swift look around the garden, then went to the pole. Seizing a handful of the midnight hair, he jerked back the captive's head. It was Loki!
The prince's face was ghastly white, his eyes closed, like bruises. Dare spoke, his mouth close to Loki's, his words inaudible. Then he released the prince and strode from the garden. Against the pole, the long, lean form sagged. Moments ticked by, but Loki didn't move again.
After awhile, Sid, keeping an eye on the windows looking out onto the garden, dropped to the ground. Closer now, he saw Loki was covered with blood, most of it dried. The ilthiya's thighs were black with it.
Sid's impulse was to run to the pole at once, but common sense held him back. Instead, he slipped around the edges of the garden to the nearest window and peered in. He saw a room, dimly-lit and empty. The door leading into it from the garden stood slightly ajar. For several eternal moments, he hesitated, wondering if it were a trap.
A groan from the garden forced his hand. He ran to the door, flattening himself beside it. Straining his ears, he listened, but heard nothing but the distant sound of surf. Ducking inside, he looked quickly around. An interior door was also ajar. He peered through and saw a disheveled bed and an empty glass set before a bowl of fruit. There was no sign of Dare.
Sid knew he hadn't much time. At its best, his luck was never very good and the longer he tarried, the greater the danger of discovery. He moved through the room, opening drawers, looking behind things, until he found a long, thin-bladed knife in a drawer with some papers, likely a letter-opener. He took it and ran back outside.
There was no reaction from the captive ilthiya. Frantically, Sid set to cutting the blood-stained ropes holding Loki to the pole.
"L-Loki?" he hissed, worried. "Loki? Are you all right? Can you hear -- ah!"
As the second piece of rope fell away, the naked prisoner suddenly lunged away, snapping the remaining bonds. Lips drawn back in a bestial snarl, eyes blazing, the ilthiya faced him. Taken by surprise, Sid stumbled backwards, the blade flying up in a wholly instinctive act of self-preservation.
"Sid!" Loki fell back against the pole. His wrists were still bound, but he seemed barely to notice. Glowing eyes moved over Sid's body hungrily. "Am I dreaming?"
"No. We have to go, Loki."
Sid saw no open wounds on the prince's body, of course, but he had a stretched, hollow look. His ribs were visible and his breathing quick and shallow.
"Can you unlock these?" Loki held up the heavy iron shackles around his wrists.
The sight sent an odd shiver through Sid. He wet his lips before thinking. "I -- I might be able to pick the lock..."
Incredibly, there was a low, throaty chuckle from the prince. "Do you like it?" he purred, leaning forward. "The sight of me in chains?"
Sid's heart was pounding again, and for completely different reasons. He scowled. "Stop it! Can't you ever be serious?"
He turned away, his face hot, and went back into Dare's rooms. Over the back of an armchair in the corner, the general had tossed a coat. It had several medals pinned on it. He unfastened one. Turning around, he found Loki directly behind him, silent as a cat. Sid's heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
"Turn around," he snapped.
Loki obeyed. Fingers shaking, Sid nonetheless managed to get the point of the pin into the lock and, after several abortive tries, heard the familiar click of falling tumblers. The shackles fell to the rug, clinking.
"Good boy." Loki whirled, crossing the room to the interior door. He opened it slightly looking in, then vanished. Sid gulped at his recklessness. Minutes crawled by. Just as Sid was certain something bad had happened, the prince was back, pulling on a shirt and a pair of trousers. His color was better and he wiped his mouth, giving Sid a quick, bloody grin.
"How fortunate Adrian and I are almost the same size," he remarked. "And that he keeps several weapons handy. Take this."
Sid grabbed at the gun shoved at him. When Loki started back into the other room, however, he balked.
"It's safer out there," he said, pointing to the garden.
"I have to get Father."
The king? He was still alive?
Loki disappeared back into the other room and, after moment, Sid put his head in to see what the prince was doing. Ear against yet another door, this one probably leading out into the main castle, Loki fingered the sword in his hand.
"Guards," he mouthed and beckoned.
Sid came at Loki's gesture and positioned himself beside the door. Loki with a brief nod, opened it. A man's voice exclaimed, but the sound was quickly cut off as the prince lunged, vanishing briefly. When he reappeared, he dragged a body with him.
"Shut the door."
Sid jumped to obey. When he turned around, it was to see Loki's sword flash across the guard's throat, severing the ilthiya's head from his body. Horrified, Sid just stared as Loki, without a flinch, stripped armor and jacket from him, whisking them away from the spreading pool of blood. He threw both at Sid.
"Put them on."
"Are you mad?" Sid hissed, doing no such thing.
"Do as you're told," snapped Loki. "We don't have much time."
Certain the iliyath had come unhinged, Sid pushed his arms into the sleeves of the jacket. It was, of course, too big. Loki didn't wait to see him finish, but immediately left the room, forcing Sid to hurry after him.
"What happened to you? Is it true? Was there a coup?"
"Yes. Dear Katya, the whore. I'd love to stay and give her what she deserves, but first things first."
Abruptly, Loki stopped, looking wildly around. Opening the nearest door to hand, he grabbed Sid's arm and pulled the Man after him into what appeared to be a closet. Sid held his breath, listening to heavy footsteps pass. Then Loki opened the door. "Move!" he hissed and ran.
Sid did precisely that, expecting at any second to hear shouts from behind. They raced down the corridor, through another door and into a dank, narrow stairwell. After descending several floors, Loki led the way out of it. Sid smelled soap and fresh linen.
"The laundries," confirmed Loki without pausing. He walked rapidly away, past a row of covered, wheeled carts along the corridor wall. Voices drifted out from open doorways. Passing them, Sid saw large rooms filled with machines, sheets and clothing hanging on long lines. Steam billowed out of other rooms. As they walked by one of the latter, two humans in slave uniforms emerged, stopping with startled looks at the sight of Loki. They bowed at once and, when Sid looked back, they were still bowing.
They came to another set of stairs. This one was even narrower and more unpleasant than the previous one. Loki never hesitated. He ran down the steps, Sid following more cautiously. The stone underfoot was slick, the air rank with the smell of mildew. Sid heard the chittering of rats. At least, he thought it was rats. In a place such as this, Gaia only knew what they really were!
The stairs ended at last. Loki stopped, hand on the door. "Be ready," he said. "Show no mercy."
"W-what?"
But Loki only grinned and slammed the door open with the heel of his hand. His sword flashed and he ran.
Sid had a confused impression of a rough-hewn corridor with lights hanging from cords along the ceiling. Ilthi in guard uniforms crowded one end and all of them were running toward Loki and Sid. Loki, black hair flying, ran straight at them, fearless, his sword cutting a brutal swathe through their ranks. Gunfire, bright pops of light and sound, filled the narrow space. Sid, in panic, squeezed the trigger of his own weapon and prayed not to hit Loki by mistake.
By now, he should have been accustomed to Loki's shocking efficiency at dealing death. Even so, the suddenness of the silence astonished him and he found himself standing at the end of a line of bodies, blood dripping from the walls and running in rivulets down the worn, stone floor.
Loki rummaged through pockets and came up with a ring of keys. He tried a number of them before one unlocked the door.
"Stay here," he said. Stooping, he hauled an ilthiya up by the collar. The man made a gurgling sound; still alive. Then he vanished through the door and, for a long while, there was no sound at all.
"Are you insane?" Angelus peered at Loki from beneath the fringe of his tangled hair. "You had a chance to escape and you're wasting it?"
"Feed!" Loki replied shortly, flinging the dying guard at his father. "I haven't time to argue."
The guard was a successful distraction. With a growl, the king was on the ilthiya who, too weak to struggle, died swiftly. Loki looked away. He, too, was hungry, but there was Sid waiting outside to fend off the worst of his cravings.
"Well?" The king lifted his head at last, wiping his mouth with the back of a long hand. "I assume you have some plan?"
Loki shrugged. "I'm sure something will come to me," he replied. "It usually does."
So saying, he strode swiftly across the cell and out into the corpse-strewn corridor. Sid stood against the far wall, gun at the ready, giving him a wide-eyed look. Loki watched his gaze slide past to the king, who stopped short at the sight of him.
"Mine," Loki said to his father. "This way."
"I know something of the layout," his father retorted and, pushing past Loki, started off down the corridor.
Loki resisted the impulse to swear and instead, jerked his head at Sid, then followed. Sid caught up to him as they approached the end of the corridor.
Angelus walked right by the stairs. Frowning, Loki slowed. Without looking around, the king said, "The keys?"
Loki stepped forward and wordlessly handed the ring over. Angelus fussed with the keys while Loki stared at the door, wondering what was on the other side. After several tries, it opened. As it did, Loki heard shouts back in the direction of the cell.
At first glance, the room behind seemed completely innocuous, just another cell, cramped and barren. Angelus, however, did not hesitate, moving to the wall on the right and running his hands along its rugged surface. Something flashed and, with a rasping sound, a portion of the wall slid aside.
The tunnel beyond was a natural one, carved by ancient currents, winding through the rock. It came out onto a ledge overlooking a cavern filled with dark water. There must have been a light source somewhere, because Loki could make out rough details. He followed the pale cloud of his father's hair as the old ilthiya moved along the ledge. A scrabbling sound was followed by sudden light.
"Wait here," Angelus told his son. Crimson eyes rested again, intently, on Sid, who moved closer to Loki in response. Then the other ilthiya turned and strode off along the ledge, taking the lamp with him.
"Why did you come?" asked Loki when the light had vanished.
"I don't know," said Sid. There was a moment of silence, then a wry chuckle. "I almost went back to Harmonia, but you -- you said you didn't want me."
"I never did! I said you were better off without me."
"Maybe that's not your decision to make."
Loki found himself in the unusual position of having nothing to say. So he put his arm around Sid's shoulders instead.
"Are you hungry?"
"Starving, but don't worry. I can wait a little while longer."
"What about him?"
"Father fed, enough at least, to last for a day or two. Soon, when the eskerion engines are back on line, we can return to manufacturing our own sustenance."
"You can make food? You don't have to kill people?"
"Apparently, we've never had to kill people," replied Loki ruefully. He let his fingers wind through Sid's warm hair. "But no, with the engines online, at least according to everything I've ever heard, there is equipment to synthesize nutrients. How else could the Wanderers have survived on their journey?"
"So you still intend to leave." It was not a question and Sid's voice was sad.
"I don't think we have a choice now. The array -- it's irthiyan. This planet, for whatever reason, is marked by them. We've been fortunate they haven't visited since we've been here."
"And if they come, what will happen to us?"
"I don't know."
Sid said nothing more.
In the dark, a pinpoint of light appeared, growing swiftly larger until the cavern was brilliantly lit up. Flinging a hand over his eyes, Loki blinked rapidly against the sudden brilliance, ocular membranes quickly lowering.
"Holy Jess!" exclaimed Sid. "Is that a flyer?"
"No," Loki replied, amazed. "It's a shuttle."
The craft hovered above the churning water, but it made no sound -- none at all. Like the pictures Loki had seen growing up, it was bullet-shaped, with no discernable windows or door. Beams of light extended from the front and back, showing the limits of the cavern in stark relief.
"How -- how do we get inside?"
"Wait." Loki's heartbeat quickened. His arm slid away from Sid's shoulders and he caught hold of the young Man's hand. Sid's fingers squeezed his, the fine features tense.
From the midsection of the shuttle, a circular beam of light extended, forming a tunnel. Loki heard Sid's quick intake of breath. The end of the beam touched the ledge.
"Well? Are you going to stand there, gawking like provincials?" came the king's voice, echoing around the cavern.
Loki took a deep breath. "Ready?"
Sid nodded, past speech.
Closing his eyes, Loki stepped onto the light bridge. It was as solid beneath his feet as the rock. He risked opening his eyes again, his excitement as strong and giddy as if he were ten years old again. He reached out his free hand to touch the curving walls and felt a surface as cool and solid as steel. Then they were across and inside.
The shuttle skimmed the tallest trees, finding its way through the mountains toward Harmonia. In spite of the speed of their travel, it felt to Sid as if they stood still. Swiveling around, he looked toward the control sphere. Loki leaned against the opening, talking to his father. What they talked about, he couldn't hear. Although the ilthi were only a few feet away, Sid was surrounded by silence. Audio-damper, King Angelus had explained, which was really no explanation, at all.
For all his excitement and wonder, Sid knew each passing moment brought him closer to losing Loki. It seemed ludicrous, on the face of it, to look at the ilthi's inevitable departure in such a way, but he couldn't help it. Part of him was envious. The things they would see, the wonders and impossibilities -- Sid would give anything to see them, too. Gaia, once limitless in his mind, had become tiny. His hands tightened into fists on his lap. The wanting was so strong, he could taste it.
"There it is!"
Loki's voice at his shoulder made Sid start. He took a deep breath, blinking. Sure enough, Harmonia's long, narrow valley appeared.
I could stay here. It would be the safest place. The people are nice.
"I wonder if the old bastard anticipated this," continued Loki. "Somehow, I'll bet he did."
"Anticipated what?"
"That Father would come for him."
Sid thought about Misha and wondered, when all was said and done, if he and the other Man might end up as companions in loneliness.
They settled onto the south tower. Sid half-expected to see Misha and the duke there to greet them, but the rooftop was deserted. A proper door appeared in the shuttle's hull. As they disembarked, Misha appeared, running up onto the roof. He had a stinger in hand, but at the sight of them, he stopped, jaw agape.
"Hello, Misha!" Loki beamed at him. "Is Gabriel about?"
"Smoking that damned weed, no doubt," groused the king. "Where is he?"
"B-below, Your Majesty."
"Captain," corrected Angelus. "That way?"
Misha nodded.
"Loki! With me!"
Loki rolled his eyes at Sid and strolled after his father, both ilthi vanishing down the stairwell. Misha turned an apprehensive gaze on Sid.
"Things are going to change," said Sid finally. "They say their star ship is alive."
Misha looked into the night sky. It was clear, stars splashed everywhere. "Gabriel won't go."
"I would," said Sid.
Misha gave him a frightened look, then turned and ran down the stairs into the palace.
Sid took his time going after them. He loved this place, its serene, airy rooms, the way the natural blended so perfectly with the manmade. Inside, he wandered from room to room, stepping out on the balconies to look out over the valley, listening to the call of night birds in the forest at the foot of the cliffs.
"Sid! Sid? Where are you, damn it?"
Loki's voice echoed through the corridors. Sid stopped, wishing his heart didn't jump so.
"Here," he called.
The ilthiya appeared. "Bath time!" he sang. "Come with me!"
Pain tightened Sid's throat, but he found a grin. "With pleasure," he replied. "You're disgusting."
Loki laughed, unoffended.
They went to their usual bath, the pool with the waterfall. Loki stripped off the general's stolen clothing, tossing it carelessly to the tile floor. Sid caught his breath as, naked, Loki poised on the edge of the pool, lean, muscular, perfect, then dived in.
Sid undressed more slowly, watching Loki beneath the clear water, black hair flowing out behind him. He slid into the water and drifted at the edge of the pool. Loki appeared in the center, shooting out of the water and sending crystal droplets in all directions. Then he sank back until only his eyes were visible. A hand appeared; one long index finger crooked.
Shaking his head, Sid submerged, paddling toward the ilthiya. Surfacing, he was captured by strong arms and pulled close. Loki's mouth covered his, demanding, urgent. Helplessly, Sid's body reacted. He wrapped wet arms around Loki's neck, returning the kiss, opening his mouth to the ilthiya's tongue. Even the cool water couldn't keep the heat from taking him, from letting the water buoy him up to wrap his legs around Loki's hips.
"Mmmm." Loki's breath in his ear lifted gooseflesh over Sid's bare skin. Strong hands seized his buttocks and, with infinite care, lowered Sid onto Loki's erect cock. With a gasp, Sid's head fell back. He was only dimly aware of Loki's teeth sinking into his neck, of being swept across the pool and pushed against the side. There was only Loki, inside and around him, using him, loving him.
It was with vague surprise, therefore, that he found himself out of the water beside the pool, resting in Loki's arms, the ilthiya stroking wet hair from his face. He couldn't see the prince who sat directly behind him, surrounding Loki with his body, but he didn't care. Weak but content, he let his eyes drift shut again.
"I'm sorry," whispered Loki. "I'm sorry for all the terrible things I've done to you, for the misery I've inflicted upon you. I'm so sorry." His arms tightened around Sid. He bent his head, pressing his lips against Sid's shoulder. Sid felt the brush of Loki's eyelashes against the side of his neck. The tears came then and for a long while afterwards.
Through the shuttle's transparent hull, the great starship, Reifu, filled the sky. Loki had never imagined anything could be so big. The closer they came, the more awe-inspiring the thought that it had been built by ilthi.
"Ten miles from prow to stern," Gabriel said proudly. "One hundred and fourteen decks, five miles starboard to port, two from fore to aft. It reaches light speed in four-point-six minutes.
"It looks dead," said Sid. Beside him, Misha, pale and silent, only stared.
"Yes, it does. That's because it's on only minimal power." In the control sphere, Angelus moved his hand above a glowing panel. "Behold! The Reifu awakes!"
Like an eerie dawn, lights appeared, flowing like a wave across the surface of the vast ship, bringing into sharp view its towers, bridges and disks, a varied, but strangely harmonious arrangement of structures resembling some kind of city more than a single, contiguous vessel.
"We'll get lost in it," said Loki in a low voice. Sid looked up at him and smiled wanly.
Closer they came and within minutes, there was nothing else visible except the ship. The small points of light resolved into windows, floodlights, and bridges like those the shuttle could produce. Sid felt tiny and insignificant in the face of such an achievement.
"We were lucky," he said in a small voice. "You could have completely annihilated us."
The sound of retching made them look around. Misha was on his knees, hands over his mouth. He was green as moss. Gabriel made a worried noise and rushed to his side.
"I want to go home," moaned Misha. "Please, Gabriel. Let's go back."
The shuttle suddenly jerked, nearly knocking Loki off his feet. Instinctively, he reached out for Sid. All around, white light blazed until there was nowhere for shadows to go. From somewhere above them came a sonorous clang, more felt than heard. Slowly, the shuttle began to rise.
"One of the docking bays," announced Angelus. "We're being brought aboard."
The ship rose into a cavernous space. Lights blazed steadily and cold from between crisscrossing steel beams high overhead. Underneath the open floor slid shut and an echoing boom vibrated through the shuttle. Sid stared out at the long line of other ships like theirs, in the bay outside, silent, empty -- waiting.
Cold fingers crept around Loki's and gripped tight. Startled, he looked down. Sid gazed out at this alien sight, looking as awed and overwhelmed as Loki felt. It occurred to Loki then that he was as much a child of Gaia as was Sid. It was one thing to learn of these things in old books and pictures, quite another to see it for oneself. For some reason, that made him feel better. He squeezed Sid's fingers back and was rewarded by one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen.
"Come with me," said Loki softly. "Let's explore the stars together."
"But you said..."
"I was an idiot. I am, you know -- frequently."
"Yes. I have noticed, now that you mention...."
Sid had no chance to finish. Loki caught him up in a strong embrace, kissing him with passion and fire and no small amount of relief.
"I don't know how many humans will be with us," he warned breathlessly when, at last, they parted.
"I don't care."
"You should."
Sid just reached up and pulled him down again, seeking Loki's mouth and silencing the iliyath's recitation of worries.
"Just one thing."
"Mmm?" Loki smiled.
"I'm not your slave."
"I have said, haven't I?" Loki cupped a hand around the back of Sid's head and gently stroked a bit of fallen hair from Sid's eyes. "The only slave here is me."
"Loki! To me! We have some unfinished business." Angelus' voice was grim.
Reluctantly, Loki let go of Sid.
"They may come along," said the king, nodding toward the humans.
But Misha shook his head, edging back toward the shuttle. "Not me," he said. "I -- I want to go home, Gabriel! Please?"
"Soon," agreed Thorne with a sad little smile. "Wait inside the shuttle if it gives you ease. I'll be as quick as I can."
Misha ran.
Loki and Sid followed the Wanderers from the docking bay. Through empty, shining corridors they went, past intersections of more corridors winding off into the distance. Loki kept telling himself the ship was miles long. Sid looked at everything, open-mouthed.
"Did you mean it?" he whispered once when the elders had drawn ahead. "Can I really come with you?"
"Yes." was Loki's low response. "I won't go without you."
And Sid looked satisfied.
They gathered in a huge, curving, multi-level chamber faced by an enormous window. Sid looked out through it at Gaia, a green and blue sphere streaked with gauzy white, bright against the endless night of space.
The two Wanderers were bent over a computer bank, muttering to each other. Suddenly, a portion of the window turned opaque. An ilthiya soldier stared out at them, a shocked expression on his face.
"Y-Your Majesty!"
"Where is my daughter? And that traitor, Adrian Dare! Summon them at once!"
Loki grinned at Sid. "Finally," he said. "Someone other than me in trouble."
The screen flickered and Adrian's pale face appeared.
"Angelus," he said. His voice was hard and his expression equally so. "Don't think you'll elude us for long, old man."
"Where do you think I am?" asked Angelus.
"At some sympathizer's home, no doubt. Don't worry. We know who is still sympathetic to your regime..."
Angelus lifted a hand.
"Ready!" chirped Gabriel.
On the screen, the image of Adrian jerked back and forth, going fuzzy a moment. When it stabilized, there was an expression of shock where anger and determination had just been.
"What the..."
"That was Neminora's landing facility," Angelus told him. "All the remaining flyer pads have been targeted and will be destroyed."
"What? Impossible! Where are you?"
"Adrian! Adrian, what is going....Father!"
"My dear daughter." Angelus' voice was hard as steel. "Greetings from the Reifu."
She gaped at them through the screen, color draining from her face. "The ship? You're on the ship?"
"Impossible!" exploded Adrian. "The eskerion..."
"The engines are functional again, thanks to Loki and Gabriel," said the king. "The ilthi will leave Gaia. All except for you, my dear General. You and my daughter, along with all those who threw in their lot with you, will remain."
"R-remain? You're leaving the planet? No! You can't!"
Angelus laughed.
"Oh, I can, my dear."
The image shook again. Out of sight, voices were raised in alarm. Adrian vanished briefly, then returned. His eyes blazed.
"You would strand us here? On Neminora?"
"With the greatest of pleasure."
"We'll die!" screeched Katya.
"Yes," agreed Angelus softly and, for just a moment, there was regret on his handsome features.
"Please! You can't do this, father! The humans will kill us! If you go... Father!"
"Will they? Perhaps? You'll have a chance to defend yourself at least; more chance than your brother had. More chance than Maura."
"It was Adrian!" shrieked Katya. "He killed Alric! I didn't want him, to..."
"You liar!" Adrian roared.
"I might have had mercy had you spared them," replied Angelus, voice hardening again. "But killing Maura in front of me, Katya? Did you think I would forgive that?"
"She was only human!" whined Katya desperately.
Angelus made an inarticulate sound and the image vanished, replaced once more by the slowly revolving planet.
"Maura's gone?" Gabriel asked quietly, expression grave.
Angelus closed his eyes briefly and didn't answer.
"I'm sorry, my friend." Gabriel set a hand on the king's shoulder. "To lose one's rhorani -- is a bitter thing."
To Sid's astonishment, he saw tears glitter on the ilthiyan king's eyelashes.
"Come," said Loki quietly. "Let's go."
Sid nodded, walking away from the bridge with Loki and out into the vast ship.
"What happens now?" he asked.
Loki fell back against the wall, shaking his head. "I suppose we collect our people and leave."
"How long will that take?"
"Weeks, I should think," said Loki. "Maybe months."
"What about humans?"
Loki's eyebrows drew together.
"Some of my people have been living among you for generations. Do you think they will easily adjust to life under the sages? Surely there's enough room on this ship for them, too?"
"I don't know."
"And there must be other ilthi who have human rhorani!"
"Are you afraid of being the only one?"
Sid hesitated. "A little," he admitted.
Loki was silent a moment. "I could stay," he said finally.
"Loki..."
"Gabriel says you will live longer than most humans because you are rhorani. It's not like I'm so fond of my kind that..."
Sid gave him no time to finish. Overwhelmed, he threw himself at Loki, arms around the tall ilthiya's neck, and hugged him with all his strength.
"I just want to be with you," he said into Loki's shoulder. "On Gaia, among the stars, it's all the same to me."
Loki's arms tightened around him. Sid felt the rapid beat of the ilthiya's heart against his.
Leaning his head back, Sid looked into that beloved, down-bent face. Loki's silvery eyes were luminous, anxiety lurking in their depths as they searched his.
"I love you," said Loki simply. "Whatever you choose, I'll do."
"Then let's see the stars together," said Sid, rising on tiptoe to kiss his rhorani. "Maybe we can find our own wor..."
But Loki, never much on self-control, refused to let him finish.
The servant came to light the lamp as the last of the daylight faded. Misha sat at Gabriel's old desk in the study at Harmonia, overlooking the valley. It had been months now since he and Gabriel had parted and the pain in Misha's heart was finally easing. Even the knowledge that the Reifu had finally left orbit did not elicit more than a wistful twinge. Gabriel was gone, into the stars with the rest of his kind, never to return. Misha hadn't really believed it would happen and yet, Gaia was human once more. The future stretched out before Misha, empty, yet strangely fraught with possibilities.
There were still ilthi on the world, but they were confined to Neminora. The island was a prison now and would soon be a tomb. It would be a long time, if ever, before Gaians would have the means to go there and see for themselves. Some of the tech still lingered; who knew where that would lead? At the moment, however, Misha didn't care. He thought of Gabriel and his heart ached.
He could have gone with them; a surprising number of humans had. Yet, in the end, he could not leave Gaia, with its green hills, blue skies and waters, the birdsong and sweet, summer rains. Besides, a fool could see where things were going between Gabriel and the ilthi's strange, acerbic king. There was so much he hadn't known about Gabriel.
Misha supposed he would marry now, and his life would go on in the fashion of most humans. If his body hungered for Gabriel's touch in the dead of night -- well, he would learn to resist it. Giving up Gabriel meant accepting other things, at least for now. But, as Gabriel had said: who knew what the future would bring?
Sighing, Misha turned his attention to the box in front of him. It was Gabriel's last gift, with instructions to open it only after the ilthi had gone. That was now. He opened it and found a notebook with a metal cover. His eyes widened slightly at the label. "Field notes, Margaret Jessahana, 2966 ET."
Heart speeding, he opened it.
"Wednesday, June 4 2966 UTC. Today we bring the embryos from the ship and implant them into the artificial wombs in the new underground facility. I suppose we will find out if five hundred thousand is sufficient to create a genetically viable population. The eladium shield is operational. If anyone from the Empire comes after us, they'll be stuck like a fly in a trap. They've destroyed humanity with their damned technologies. Let them have their wars. Let them create their monsters. It will come back to haunt them. We shall go on as nature intended. Gaia will be the last hope for humanity's genetic purity. Rising from the muck and poison of the old, we will be a paradise. We will be a shining beacon of hope.
We will be the New Earth."
ABOUT BECCA
It was a dark and stormy night. In a crumbling stone manor house on a storm-battered cliff, a baby was born, her wail a desolate descant to the thunder of the surf and how of the wind. Haunted by tragedies and the lost souls imprisoned within the ancient walls, she grew up uncertain of what was real and what were merely the ectoplasmic fantasies of the dead. Writing was her only refuge, her only escape from the echoing corridors and dusty-rooms of the lonely mansion.
In time, even the isolated manor house was embraced by the world and the girl discovered computers. To communicate with the disembodied was second nature to her and where once only spirits and shades were privy to her stories, now strangers from all over the world could read and comment. Eventually, these stories captured the attention of a young entrepreneur, and her first book was published.
Okay, a couple of things are not true. Well, maybe more than a couple. Okay, most of it isn't true. But I'm a writer -- and artiste -- damn it! A certain eccentricity is expected, no?
In RL, I'm retired and live in the Pacific Northwest. I fill my time writing (duh), gardening, keeping house for my software-engineer-genius sister, running errands for my octogenarian father, cooking, watching TV and playing videogames. I should learn how to design and maintain websites, but you have to draw the line somewhere! That clumsy segue was to tell you all that I have two websites. My personal site houses most of my original fiction and one original finished piece. I have a professional site , too, which has links to my fanfiction and book. Both sites are maintained by our hardworking publisher, Heather.
My livejournal account is friends-only, but I'm pretty easy about who is a friend. Nothing much happens there beyond announcements and such. I'm on Facebook, as well, where I'm slightly more loquacious (but not much). You're more than welcome to friend me there, too.
At present, I have one novel out, published by SLP, called Cethe. It's a yaoi fantasy romance and is available at the SLP Shoppe site and at Amazon.com. I'm working on another novel, this one science fiction, but also yaoi. With luck and a little more application on my part, it should be available in Spring of 2011.
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