by Neal Jones
She passed another glance at her companions seated around her, but saw nothing out of the ordinary in their expressions. Sierik and Lyka were giggling to one another again, and Doctor Rimshar was leaning over to make a comment to Ranunt who was seated across the table from him. The Lord and Lady Tannit were having a mild argument about something, and no one except Erengaar was paying any attention to the music or dancers. Larewyn was concentrating on her slice of kagir pie, but after two bites she set her fork down and motioned for her maidservant to take away the plate.
Vatra was about to request a refill of her wine when she caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned her head in time to see Ryomekk slip into the hall from a side entrance. He walked straight to Erengaar and bent to whisper something in the lord emperor's ear. Erengaar's expression suddenly hardened, and his gaze snapped from the dancers to the senior officer of the Talik'Jhor. Vatra watched intently as the two exchanged a few more words, and then Erengaar stood and motioned to one of the servants to shut off the music.
"Leave us!" he commanded the dancers.
The conversation around the table ceased as all the guests caught on to the sudden change of mood in their lord emperor. He turned to his wife.
"Have you had your noth tea yet?"
Larewyn looked baffled. "No. I was just about to order it."
Just then the maidservant appeared with a tray and a single cup. She, too, noticed the mood change and hesitated as she approached the lady empress. "Your tea, m'lady?"
Erengaar motioned to a pair of guards. "Just a moment. Let me see that, Larewyn." More confused than ever, she handed the glass to her husband. He turned to Ryomekk. "You're certain about this?"
"Absolutely, my lord." He turned to the front entrance of the hall and everyone's gaze followed his. Three Talik'Jhor deputies had entered, and they were now moving in Doctor Rimshar's direction.
"What is this about?" Marija demanded. "What's happening?"
"The lady empress' tea is poisoned," Erengaar stated coldly. "First Lovar Ryomekk has uncovered evidence of Doctor Rimshar's treachery."
All heads now swiveled to face the physician, who'd already stood to surrender to his captors. He held his head high, his gaze defiant.
"Is this true, doctor?" Larewyn asked.
"It is."
"What kind of poison is in this?"
Rimshar replied calmly, "It's the reason your wife has been unable to conceive for these past few months."
This elicited murmured exclamations and gasps from the dinner guests, Vatra included.
Erengaar turned to the maidservant, who was now flanked by two palace guards. The girl was trembling, almost to tears, but whether they were caused by terror or guilt it was hard to say. The Lord Emperor stepped down and walked to her, and now the tears began to roll down her cheeks as she kept her head bowed.
"Look at me," he commanded.
The maidservant slowly raised her head. Her hands were clasped together at her waist so tightly they were white at the knuckles.
"What did you put in this tea?"
The child's lip trembled as she attempted to speak, but only a few stuttered syllables came out.
"What?"
"I s-said, m-m'lord, th-that I didn't put a-anything in lady empress' t-tea."
"She's not lying," Rimshar interrupted. "She knows nothing of this."
"Oh really?" Erengaar walked with measured steps around the head of the table and slowly down the length of it. The guests seated on that side were suddenly very focused on their plates or their wine goblets. Vatra, who was seated on the opposite side, was watching the doctor. He kept his chin up and his shoulders squared, showing no sign of remorse or fear.
"Then who put this in my wife's tea? Did you?"
"Yes."
"You are lying. If you do not give me a name, I will have the entire kitchen staff brought into this hall and slaughtered one by one, and I will rub your pinched, little face in their blood until you drown in it."
For the first time Rimshar displayed a glimmer of something besides calm in his dark eyes. He looked at Erengaar with cold fury. "I feel nothing but pity for you, lord. You are still that arrogant, obstinate, spoiled brat of a child that never learned the lessons of his father's mistakes. You have no power over me. Take my life or don't. Torture me or don't. I have been prepared for many years now to give up my life, and nothing you can do will change that. I acted alone, and that is the only answer you will ever receive from me."
Erengaar's reaction was predictable, and Vatra felt a twinge of genuine sorrow for Rimshar. His words had struck exactly the chord in Erengaar that he wanted, and the doctor's death was now certain to be a very long and very painful one.
Erengaar's hand brushed his waist, a movement so swift it had gone unnoticed. The dagger's blade moved just as swiftly across Rimshar's throat, and the blood splattered Sierik, Lyka, and the Lord and Lady Kelhos. The latter screamed, and after Rimshar’s body collapsed, Erengaar kicked at his face repeatedly, grinding flesh and bone with the heel of his boot, until the blood ran so thick that it soaked the carpet and began pooling on the marble floor beyond the rug’s gilded edge.
The lord emperor finally ceased, his chest heaving from the exertion. He took a few moments to calmly smooth back his hair, and then pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his brow, as well as the parts of his face that had been splattered with Rimshar’s blood.
"Get that thing out of my sight!" Erengaar commanded Ryomekk, and the first lovar snapped his fingers at his guards to startle them from their shocked silence.
"Clean up that mess!" the lord emperor snapped to a band of servants who had been about to clear away the dessert dishes when the whole grisly spectacle interrupted their arrival. They now scurried forward to do his bidding.
Erengaar returned to his chair and sank onto it, sighing like a tired parent who has had to discipline one too many children for the day. No one uttered so much as a cough, waiting for the signal from their lord emperor that it was all right to resume the meal, or what was left of it, that is. From the corner of his eye, Erengaar caught sight of the maidservant, still waiting with bowed head beside her lady's chair.
"You are dismissed," he ordered, and then he said to the entire table, "You are all dismissed. We shall dine together again in three nights. Hopefully the evening will be much less...eventful. Evening star."
Everyone stood and bowed their heads in Erengaar's direction while repeating the farewell. Vatra draped one arm around her son's shoulders as she escorted him from the hall, walking as quickly as she dared without actually breaking into a run.
Chapter 15
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( 1 )
THE CHRISARII TRANSPORT SHIP Biresi maneuvered into its docking bay ten minutes behind schedule, and Kralin allowed the other passengers in his compartment to disembark ahead of him. Most of them looked like they were in a bigger hurry than he was to get to their next destination. He grabbed his carry-on satchel and trudged morosely into the umbilical tunnel. Once he arrived on the station's promenade, he paused near a terminal to check the local time. It would be late in the evening by the time he arrived in the Honsh valley, which was in Garrt province, and the next transport wasn't departing for another hour.
Kralin decided to get dinner on the promenade, but after perusing a dozen menus he realized he wasn't that hungry after all. So he settled for an ale and nursed it at a table in the back that had a good view of the nearest wall screen. As usual, the topic of the latest news was the recent tour stop of Messani and Aliira. A pair of commentators were discussing – yet again – the religious and political ramifications of this fulfillment of prophecy, and Kralin signaled to a waiter to request a channel change, as well as another ale.
During the last several hours, as the Biresi had neared homeworld, Kralin had begun to regret this decision more and more. He should have just called instead, or replied with a lengthy communiqué. It wasn't too late to purchas
e a ticket back to Exxar-One, and his mother would understand, if she was even well enough to receive a letter. If her illness had progressed as far as Kaylem had implied, Jharis was probably sedated most of the time and on permanent bed rest. She probably didn't know where she was or who was with her most of the time.
But all that was just an excuse, and Kralin admitted to himself that it was his father he didn't want to see. He hated it, but the fact was that he was still intimidated by the man, even after all these years. Farak Saveck had run his home as he had his business, treating his sons like employees. He was always more concerned with rules, discipline, honor, and tradition, than he was with treating his sons as individuals who possessed their own hearts and minds about the world and the ways of life.
During the brief time he lived with Jran on the Beta-Erendii colony, Kralin had tried to make his older brother see his point of view, but Jran had insisted that their father had never been as tyrannical as Kralin made him out to be. But then again Jran had not been the rebellious one, had not refused to undergo the Pak'Ti'Faar ceremony, or protested constantly against participating in the weekly service rituals at the chapel.
You fought him at every turn, Kralin, instead of just choosing your battles and trying to see things from his point of view once in awhile.
Why doesn't he try to see them from mine? That's my whole point, Jran! He refuses to acknowledge anything or anyone that doesn't fit his prescribed, narrow field of view. He's the one who's not choosing his battles. He's not even willing to talk about these things. All he cares about is mindless, absolute obedience.
On that point Jran couldn't argue. But he was right about one thing. Kralin had never bothered to try and see things from his father's point of view. He never attempted to even try to understand Farak. All he knew was that his father had never understood him, and as with adolescents from all species and walks of life, teenagers cared only about themselves and their way of seeing the world. And their parents were always the enemy, even the most understanding and progressive ones.
Which only meant that Kralin and his father were identical in more ways than Kralin was willing to admit. Kralin was just as demanding, just as narrow minded, and just as tyrannical about rules and discipline as Farak. It was another universal truth of the generational relationship, no matter what alien species one belonged to. Sons always grow up to be just like their fathers, no matter how desperately they try to deny it or avoid it, and a part of Kralin – a small part - was looking forward to this visit. He wanted to see in person just how frail and elderly Farak had become. He wanted to prove to himself that he was no longer intimidated and afraid of such a weak man.
"Kralin? Kralin Saveck?"
The unfamiliar voice was a woman's, and Kralin glanced up to see a vaguely familiar face peering at him from the next table.
"It is you, isn't it?" She stood and walked over to him. "You don't remember me, do you?"
"Should I?"
She laughed as she sat down. "Inedra Bre'el. I was on the Beta-Erendii colony when you lived there with your brother. My father's plantation was in Artinn..." She smiled again as she saw no sign of recognition in Kralin's expression. "We met in the Vor market when you accidentally dumped a whole cart of asperith in the middle of the road..."
"Oh yes! Yes, I remember! Your father got very upset with me because I almost wrecked his load as well." Kralin cocked his head as the memories slowly returned, bubbling to the surface like pockets of air in a pot of boiling sauce. "That's been a long time. I'm surprised you still remember me. I wasn't on Beta-Erendii for very long."
"The war, I know. Your brother and his family were killed in the first attack, weren't they?"
"That's right."
An awkward pause followed.
"I'm sorry," Inedra said at last. "I didn't mean to resurrect old pain. I recognized you from some of the news broadcasts a few months ago. You're assigned to Exxar-One, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'm home on leave right now. Visiting my parents."
"Oh? Is everything all right?"
Kralin nodded and forced a smile. "They're fine. I just haven't been back in a long time, and I decided now was as good a time as any."
"Where do they live?"
"Garrt province. The Honsh valley. My father owns several vineyards."
"Oh yes, I remember! You told me once how he used to make you and your brother get up very early every day and help work the fields once you were old enough."
"That and so many other things." Kralin finished his ale and stood.
Inedra caught the hint and rose as well. "It was nice meeting you again. Perhaps we'll see each other on the surface? I'm visiting my cousin and her family in the Suton province." She reached in her pocket and handed him a data chip. "Here's my comm number."
"Um, thank you." Kralin wasn't sure what else to say without unnecessarily prolonging the conversation so he just nodded and walked away.
Inedra watched him go, a little puzzled by his abrupt departure, and she wondered for a minute if he actually remembered her, or if he was just being polite.
( 2 )
As Kralin left the ground terminal and stepped into the warm night, he took a moment to breathe deep, inhaling the fresh air and all of the scents that it carried. This was one of the few things that he genuinely missed when living aboard a starship or a starbase. No matter how hard the engineers tried to mimic planetary atmosphere, they could never come close to the real thing, especially on a night like this.
Neyart was the largest city in the Honsh valley, but calling it a city now wasn't entirely accurate. It had been a city in Kralin's childhood, a tourist resort that had attracted the wealthy and the privileged because of the quality of wine that was produced by the vineyards here. Then, during the war, the tourism trade had dwindled as there was more demand for industrial resources that could be used to manufacture starships and weapons than there was for good wine. Several landowners, in a last, desperate effort to stave off destitution, had turned their vineyards into farms that could produce food for rations that could be shipped off to the soldiers on the frontlines. Only a few of the oldest vineyards – like the ones owned by Farak, who had inherited his from his father who had inherited it from his father – were able to ride out the lean years and continue making a profit by producing quality wine.
Now, Neyart was a metropolis, a sprawling conglomeration of the old and the new. The old was the tourist resorts and everything that came with them – spas, gambling parlors, brothels, expensive restaurants, upper class hostels, and all the like. The new was the manufacturing plants and the working class housing that had been built for the factory workers during the war. The plants had been used to turn the crops into ration packs, as well as turn out other miscellaneous materials for the war effort.
This diverse combination – the wealthy and those who worked for them – had turned Neyart into a city that was clearly divided along class lines. The tourist sector was at the north end of the city, and the manufacturing sector was at the south. Everything else was in between, including the ground terminal where Kralin had just disembarked. Two streets over was a decent hostel, and Kralin checked into a room for the night. Although he was fairly certain his father would still be up, this late hour was not the time for an uncomfortable, awkward reunion, and Kralin wanted more time to prepare himself. He would get up early and set out for the vineyard at first light.
Sleep was fitful, and when the alarm on the comm panel twittered its wake-up call, Kralin was already up and dressed. After leaving the hostel, he walked to a sildyr depot and rode the public transport out of the city to the rural stop closest to his father's vineyard. It was still a long walk up the paved road to the central processing plant, which is where he knew his father would be.
But he reconsidered when he arrived at the turnoff that led up to the main house. In the gray light of early dawn, it appeared as little more than a shadow, a two story structure that interrupted the smooth line of the horizon. A
s he neared it, Kralin saw no sign of life, not even the security lights blinked on as he stepped onto the veranda. Both of his parents were early risers, and he was certain his father would have left a light on in the kitchen, just in case his mother needed something.
The amber light at the upper corner of the com panel beside the front door indicated that the door was unlocked, so Kralin quietly opened it and stepped inside. The lights in the front hall came on, slowly raising the brightness level so as not to blind the visitor. Kralin looked to his left, peering into the kitchen and eating room, but saw no one. Kaylem had mentioned a day nurse, but either she wasn't here yet, or she was upstairs with Jharis. Kralin set his satchel on the floor and turned right to wander through the front parlor.
This was empty as well, and he paused beside the mantle above the fireplace. It was arrayed with holo-photos of him and Jran when they were younger, of Jran's family, of Farak and Jharis, and a few others of extended relatives. Kralin continued his trek, entering the back hall and then slowly ascending the stairs.
Just as he started up the stairs, an older woman appeared at the top, her hands full with a wash basin and a damp rag hanging off its edge. She glanced up just as she started descending and gave a startled cry when she saw Kralin.
"I'm sorry," Kralin said quickly, and then introduced himself.
The woman nodded and continued her descent. "Eema Tannis. I'm Jharis' nurse."
"How is she?"
"I assume from various conversations with your father that you were never told about your mother's illness?"
"That's right." Kralin followed her into the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Eema dumped the basin and began rinsing out the rag. "She's doing well for such a late stage. Her lungs keep filling with fluid so she's on a permanent respirator, but the medication seems to be helping. It's all the side effects that give her the bad days because Doctor Zokem has prescribed six different medicines. She suffered complete aggerd failure last week, so she's on a dialysis machine. That's what one of those six medications is for." Eema left the bathroom and started for the kitchen.
