by Reiter
“What if the Savanté are already aware of you, Vi-Prin,” Dungias thought. “… and Jamille was their means of monitoring you?”
Danatra looked at Jamille and shook her head in regret and anger. “Why did I only alter my face? If I had made myself look older–”
“Were you told to explore other minds at an early age?” Dungias asked.
“My mentor told me I was gifted,” Danatra replied. “Given his ability–”
“We can assume he was an able practitioner, but a poor instructor,” Dungias said.
“Not that he is above suspicion of being part of the Savanté as well,” he considered. “… since it would appear that the Mental Arts have been thriving in our culture for some time, and it is far from common knowledge. Of course, how else could they maintain their ranks? But why was Danatra not recruited? Her decision to pursue music… could it have somehow tainted her chances to be one of the Savanté?
“And given his current status, his practitioner standing is also in question. Still, that only took a few moments out of our timetable and spared us the cost of being undone by a point of trust.”
“How does this change your plan?” Danatra asked, believing that she owed her Vu-Prin an apology.
“Considerably,” Dungias replied, closing his eyes and envisioning the possible outcomes for his plan. “Tell me, why was Jamille resting? You spoke of what he did to assist our escape from Duke MarrZo, but I assumed that you were engaged in ThoughtWill as well and you did not look pressed when I came aboard.”
“Before we could launch the rescue mission, the hiding place for this ship had been discovered,” Danatra reported. “… and it took a lot out of both of us to liberate it.”
Dungias’ head snapped around and he locked eyes with his Vi-Prin. “Damn!” he whispered before looking around the room. He opened his mind to Danatra.
“This ship, Vi-Prin,” Dungias projected. “Did Jamille help you build it?”
Danatra gasped at the implications, which was all the answer Dungias needed before he heard the speakers activate. “All right, men,” a soft female voice announced. “I was so hoping to see how this shay-spawn was going to gain entry into the Palace… but it is not to be. Remember, I only need him alive!”
“Give me your hand, Vi-Prin,” Dungias thought. “Let me see the men you dealt with to liberate your ship.” In a blink of an eye the information was exchanged and Dungias quickly processed what was happening. He had an estimate of at least a score of men aboard the ship and he was sure there would be more on the way momentarily. “I am forced to make a very precarious assumption!” As soon as her hand was in his, Dungias drew his Osamu and dropped to his left knee. Danatra was lowering to the floor as he spoke.
“Computer, release grapplers and engage programmed course at minimum thrusters! Maintain command protocols and shut down all other systems!
“Don your suit!” Dungias whispered. A touch of a button, and a moment out his grip, and Danatra was wearing her armour and environmental suit. Dungias counted as he could hear doors opening; secret compartments containing stowaways. A good number of them probably from among the group Danatra had been led to believe Jamille had dismissed. “Open all vents and purge!” Dungias commanded just before he took a deep breath. Control over the respiratory system was not something that had been included with his Mal-Vin training, but the Shadow Corps training had been much more intense. He did not believe he could last the five tonki that was the standard measure of their branch of service. For his plan, he only needed three. He hoped Felrus had chosen his accoutrements well, but believed it to be a reasonable expectation that a trained Warrior and Mal-Vin soldier would have opted for environmental gear along with his weapons and other equipment.
The door to the room was forced open by an iro-form pulse and Dungias jumped up from the floor. He put his hand on the faceplate of the first man into the room and pushed. The back of the first man’s helmet bashed into the faceplate of the next man and the glass shattered before both men fell outside the room. Dungias landed in the corridor and stood up quickly, turning his right shoulder toward the three men approaching. Sparks flared behind him as a laser bolt just missed him and hit the wall. Dungias stepped back inside the room, avoiding another shot. He extended his hand toward the door and waved it across the open doorway and the door slid shut. Danatra lunged forward and placed her hand against the door. The flash-weld blinded Dungias for a moment, but he spun away from the door and looked up at the ventilation shaft. Danatra then quickly cooled the weld and Dungias could hear the metal and plastiform cracking. The only way the door was going to open was if it was cut or blasted open. Both would take considerable time, given that the stowaways did not possess cutting tools or high yield energy weapons.
“That is your way out,” he thought, looking at Danatra who nodded.
“What about you?” Danatra asked.
“Do not concern yourself with me, Vi-Prin,” Dungias thought as he started keying commands into his PC. He smiled when he received acknowledgement from Felrus. “Get yourself to the aft-portside airlock and start your run from there.”
“Then we are to make our own means of escape,” Danatra said, looking around the room. “It seems I just got to know this ship.”
“My most sincere apologies,” Dungias thought as he phased through the floor.
“And mine to you, Vu-Prin,” she shouted. “Good hunting!”
** b *** t *** o *** r **
The Royal House Galvasti was noted for its ability to remain calm despite whatever events might be occurring around them. In the days before Queen BaKedia was born, the master of the House, King Asaldryn, had put in the permanent family records that the demonstration of panic is the poorest tool a competent leader could apply. Though he was the Vu-Zai of BaKedia’s Vu-Zai, the lesson had been delivered as if it had been spoken by the original author and she had taken to it with equal intensity and dedication. She could not recall that last time she had heard the alarm systems of her home and she looked up and about, trying to fathom the reason for the distress.
She sat in a small seat that was very low to the ground as she tended to her flowers. Light sparkled off the wavy, flowing crystal that was her hair. Each follicle was living fine glass and rich with iro-forms. She held the hierarchy name of Thunna, the feminine form of Thuun, the name given to Malgovi who had attained grandmaster in at least four iro-form manipulations. In truth, she had done so with five, but she had seen no need to change her name.
“Vi-Zai!” SonBa’s voice found her and placed a smile on her face.
“Calm yourself, my Vu-Khan,” she said softly. “Whatever the matter, it will not reach this place.”
“You have seen this in the Stars?” SonBa asked as he approached and took the customary kneeling position. BaKedia chuckled as she put her tools down and turned to face her child.
“You believe in them, don’t you?” BaKedia asked. “Why do you have such faith in the Stars, SonBa?”
“All that I know of this Realm you have taught me, my Queen and Vi-Zai,” SonBa replied with his head still lowered.
“I need your eyes, First Prince,” BaKedia stated. “Rise, Vu-Khan.” BaKedia waited as the First Prince stood up and straightened his clothes. He made sure he was presentable to the Throne before he would speak. “If all you believe comes from what I have told you, whatever will you do when you find that I am in error?”
“Is this a test, my Queen?” SonBa inquired.
“If it is?”
“Then I must remind my Queen. ‘Remember, my Vu-Khan’ you said to me,” SonBa started, closing his eyes to go back to the place in his memory he had deemed sacred. “You begged me to realize that while your sight was indeed aided by the Stars, your eyes were merely that of any Malgovi woman. And like all women, you were and are a perfect construct of this Realm, but you are not perfect. You told me to see the Light of Life through my own eyes and come to my own place in the Stars. I have yet to see the Stars, my Qu
een, but in my search for them, I have seen so much more than I had considered possible.
“So if you are this calm in the midst of this alarm, I too can relax,” SonBa smiled.
“How many times has this question been asked from parent to child?” BaKedia thought, remembering the time when her Vu-Zai had posed it to her. He had looked so dejected when she entered the chamber. She would later be told that of her five siblings, she had been the only one who could quote the words that had been given to her so much earlier in her youth. Now SonBa was repeating history, succeeding where each of his siblings had failed.
“But there was already an indication he would know the answer,” she thought, recalling what had happened when BaKedia had announced she would consider her successor. She had not been allowed to complete the announcement when SonBa declared his support of Sryla. As a Vi-Zai, BaKedia had not known she could know such pride as what she held for SonBa. All of her pride and love, however, could not be the reason why she failed him in this instance. She had always told him the truth and he had already proven he was ready for the truth.
“If only that were true,” BaKedia returned. “Again you will have to come to your own accord, my Vu-Khan and First Prince; and I speak to you in such terms because I address both men in the same instance. You must choose to remain or go to the call of–” a second alarm interrupted the Queen and she quickly lowered her eyes to the floor.
SonBa looked up at the flashing lights and then at his Vi-Zai. He knew better than to ask a question she could not answer. That would only add pain to a troublesome incident. “A second alarm,” he said, looking back at the Queen who was turning away from him. “You said this would not reach you.”
“That I did and so believe.”
“Then my place is not here, my Queen,” SonBa said as he bowed with his head and turned quickly to take his leave.
“This is not your only decision, SonBa,” BaKedia mentioned.
“I am sure of that, Vi-Zai,” SonBa replied. “But the Stars have guided me thus far. I will keep to this trek.” SonBa pushed the doors open and turned the moment he stepped out into the corridor.
Royal Guards ran by the six-tram tall statue of Pax’Dulah on their way to the living quarters for the House Galvasti. Dungias stepped out from behind the statue to use his Osamu across the chest of the last of the guards. The man’s torso came to a quick stop as his legs continued to run. Pushing down with Alpha, the soldier’s back slammed down to the ground, but the contact did not make a sound; that had been absorbed into Alpha. The combination of the abrupt stop and harsh landing had taken most of the fight out of the soldier, but he was a man in service of the Throne… he was going to mount a suitable effort to defeat the strong and silent stranger. He lifted his hand to emit an iro-form, but Dungias absorbed it as he grabbed the man’s hand with his left; his right guided the end of Alpha down to the man’s chest. The Osamu tapped against the armour but sent the force of the movement to the body inside. The sternum blow nearly forced all of the air out of the guard, and Dungias dragged the man behind the statue. Using the phase field, the Traveler removed the soldier’s armour, helmet, weapons and clothes very quickly, and donned the armour using the same technique. Dimensional pockets on his own weapons belt received his armour, cloak and Alpha. He re-emerged from behind the statue, returned to the downed soldier to strike him again, and then ran after the other guards. Dungias ran up the stairs, trying to look like the guards he had already observed. He was drawing close to the chambers in Jamille’s memory… he was drawing close to the Savanté!
“There are two of them!” one of the guards announced. “One was spotted trying to steal the Crown Jewels. The second was seen near the stable. It is the First Princess’ riding time!”
“She has already been received in her chambers,” another guard advised as Dungias ran past them. No one looked twice at him; they were too busy preparing for an eminent attack. When he reached the double doors of the private chambers, he opened them without hesitation and proceeded inside, closing and locking the doors behind him. Dungias wanted as much privacy as fate would see fit to give him. As surprised as he was to have made it so far, he did not want anything to distract him at this point.
He smiled at the candles in the foyer and quickly realized that there was no electricity coursing through this large chamber. “How novel,” he thought as he pushed through the blood-red silken drapes. The room was actually a front for the entrance into a long corridor which emptied into another chamber. Hard stone floors were partially covered with rugs and animal skins; all of the finest quality. Tapestries adorned the walls and the smell of fresh cut flowers filled his nostrils. It was a poor attempt to mask the scent of open wounds and healing ointments as well as the heavy smell of sweat and the oils necessary to keep the chains from making excessive noise. Dungias’ eyes squinted and he was grateful for the head to toe body armour of the Royal Guard. He put his mind on his woman and let her touch and the memory of her voice take his swelling rage.
Women! Vinthur and Malgovi females alike were moving about, heavily chained, and some were even more heavily beaten. The word ‘dressed’ could not be used as strips of light, blood-red, see-through silk had been draped over their shoulders and around their waists. They carried small trays of food and drink, walking up and down the massive corridor, going into chambers that did not have doors, just more drapes. Posted above the archways were metal plaques that had names engraved into them. Dungias presumed they were either the names of the rooms themselves, or the inhabitants thereof. He could hear crying and sounds of passion from the women in the area, though only the former seemed to be genuine.
“Guard?” a voice called out and Dungias turned to his left. The voice had come from a room labeled Matreece, and he parted the drapes so that he could see inside. A Malgovi man reclined in a chair one could never just sit in; it was too long and the angle of the back forced one to lie down more than sit down. The number of physically unfit Malgovi Dungias had ever seen in any one place numbered less than ten, but it appeared the number would soon be on the rise, though he could not consider the bald and shaved Malgovi male to be fat so much as more round than what he was used to seeing. Three women tended to him, two Vinthur who washed his body and one Malgovi who straddled the man, applied oils into his skin using her naked body as the rubbing agent. “What are you doing?”
“There has been a breach, master,” Dungias replied. “The life of–”
“No,” the Malgovi interrupted as invisible hands took hold of Dungias’ body and lifted him from the floor. Matreece Phizon knocked the Malgovi woman to the floor and by the way she fell, it was evident it was not the first time she had been so harshly dismissed. Swinging his feet off the chair and to the floor, the large Malgovi stood and turned to face the floating man in Royal Guard armour, his gray eyes squinting at the form before him. “What I meant was, what are you doing in here with that helmet on? Headgear is not permitted in these chambers! I don’t care if the Palace is flying apart! Am I understood?!
“Forgive me, master,” Dungias said, sounding as if the experience of floating was uncomfortable for him. “I meant no offense. We simply do not know where they will strike next.”
“Oh, let them come for us if they dare to,” Phizon replied, dropping Dungias to the floor and reaching for a serving of his favorite beverage. “We welcome all comers. Now, be off with you!”
The Vinthur woman holding the serving tray gasped and Phizon noticed she was looking in the direction of the deposited guard. Fear and shock flashed in her eyes as they shifted to Phizon’s chest where they found reason to gape even wider. She dropped her tray and staggered back to the wall. Phizon looked down at the sword protruding from his chest and saw his own flesh and blood clinging to the blade.
“I am a comer,” Dungias whispered. “Do you welcome me?!”
“He would be in error not to,” the Malgovi woman spoke aloud, though something was unnatural about her voice… the way she
spoke. Dungias looked up to see her eyes were white and he could feel nothing of the woman coming from her body. Her body was being used as a surveillance and interaction point. “You are bold, cunning stranger. But you have chosen a poor place to center your attack, to say nothing of the opponents who have now been alerted to your presence.” Dungias quickly pulled the blade out of the large Malgovi and slashed the drapes as it seemed they were moving against the slight breeze of ventilation. Twisting and turning, the fabrics fell to the floor, eventually losing their animation. “And you are no simple assassin either, are you?” Dungias spun once more and swung. The flat of the blade smacked against the side of the Malgovi woman’s face and a swift jab rendered one of the fear-struck Vinthur unconscious. The second Vinthur slave threw herself into the wall closest to her. Dungias winced at the impact the woman had forced as she slid to the floor with a smile on her face.
“My thanks, saytrah,” Dungias whispered to the woman as she collapsed.
“If you want to see me, you will have to use your own eyes!” Dungias snapped, turning to walk out of the room.
“Then come out into the corridor, uninvited guest,” a male voice called out, though Dungias was underwhelmed by the power of its tone. “Let me have a look at you.” Twirling the blade once, Dungias took in a deep breath and walked out into the corridor.
“So,” Dungias thought, looking at the gathering of bald Malgovi men. There were ten by his count, and each one had been shaved clean. Most were stout, but three in particular were obese, and all of them had the same color gray in their eyes. “… it is less a choice and more of a standard.
“And there is one behind me, moving quickly,” Dungias thought just before lunging to his left. His dodge had proven effective, but Dungias was surprised to see the man he had stabbed rush past him into the crowd of bald men. A second surprise came when Phizon made contact with the first of the bald men. It was as if his body melded with the man instead of colliding with him. He came out from behind the man, walking and looking mystified as to how his attack had been thwarted.
