They entered a nondescript building and traversed a short corridor to a door, which slid open. The guards pushed her inside and the door shut. She gazed around at a sleek, modern room with elegantly understated decor and every creature comfort. Light poured in through skylights, and a warmly decorated bedroom, plush bathroom and an auto kitchen led off it, all tastefully furnished. After an hour or so, she decided to have a hot bath to ease her tension. When she was dressed again, she wandered about, growing bored and restless.
Chapter Eleven
In his Spartan quarters, the Shrike faced a space line screen and activated it with a flick of his thoughts. The wafer-thin crystal that stood on a graceful wand of pale green quartz filled with the chubby, cheerful face of his most trusted friend and second in command. The man's eyes twinkled and his grin revealed square white teeth.
"Well, it's good to see you. Where are you?"
"Ironia. I have the bait, Vidan. Set up the meeting."
Vidan sobered. "You're sure he'll go for it?"
"I'm sure. She's perfect. I paid a hundred thousand for her on Gergonia."
Vidan pursed his lips in a silent whistle. "She must be perfect. I'll contact Urquat."
"Make sure he knows the deal. Jamdar must bring two hundred low-grade slaves, rejects, cripples, burn outs, I don't care, but he must meet Urquat in person. Find out where and when, then contact me."
"You sure Urquat can be trusted?"
"He knows what will happen to him if he betrays me, and he's being paid handsomely for the cover, so why would he betray me?"
Vidan shook his head. "Okay, but I'll need something to whet Jamdar's appetite. He'll want to see the goods."
"I'll transmit a holoimage."
"Right."
The Shrike turned away as the screen went dead and retracted into its slot.
When no one came for several hours, Rayne decided that she had been left alone for the day and tried to pry off the lock plate on the door, but it foiled her. She cursed it, boredom and frustration fraying her temper. She turned her attention to the rest of the complex, determined to find an egress of some sort, an air duct or maintenance hatch. After searching all the rooms, she came to the disquieting conclusion that the apartment had been designed as a prison.
Sitting on the sofa, she thought about that. It meant the Shrike kept prisoners here, which did not reflect well on his character. She found it strange that he had locked her in here; it did not strike her as the usual quarters for a slave. The rooms seemed to be designed to look like guests' quarters, but to imprison anyone in them.
She jumped as the door opened to admit the Shrike, who glanced around at the disarray her search had caused.
"I trust you've been having fun?"
She glared at him. "What sort of man keeps his guests in a carefully designed prison?"
"A real guest would never know, since they wouldn't try to escape. But you're not a guest, are you?"
"Then you should have put me in the slave pen, with the rest of your slaves. As for your guests, I pity them. Just because you're a crook, you think everybody else is, too."
"Most of the people I know are, and they're not the sort I want wandering around my base."
"So you lock them up."
He shrugged. "If they find themselves locked up, it's only because they tried to escape."
His logic confounded her, and she frowned. "How long are you going to keep me here? Don't you have any use for me? And if not, why did you buy me? Was I an investment?"
He faced her, and she longed to tear off the mask and see his face, its mystery ate at her. She went on, "Why don't you sell me again? Make your dirty profit. Perhaps the next person will be more helpful than you and take me home."
"If you believe that, you're not as smart as I thought you were. Or perhaps you're just naive."
"Does that reduce my value? I'm not stupid. Others would do it for the reward, ones that don't have a price on their heads. You should sell me while you can, Tallyn will be looking for me."
He folded his arms and leant against the wall. "He won't find you."
"You don't know that. The council will send a search party."
"What makes you so important to the Atlanteans? Why did they save you and your brother?"
She rose and wandered away, buying time to formulate an answer. Stopping beside a shelf, she fiddled with an ornament. The few moments did not allow her to come up with anything intelligent, so she settled for hostility. "Wouldn't you like to know? Figure it out for yourself, if you can."
"Maybe I'll have someone look into it."
"They won't find out. Only a few people know, and they won't talk."
"So, it's a big secret, is it?" He pushed himself away from the wall. "I'll bet Drevina knows. She seems to know everything. And she doesn't usually sell her merchandise herself. I was surprised to see her on Gergonia, at least, at a slave market. She's been to a few of the more unsavoury parties, but she's not a great business woman."
"She doesn't know anything," Rayne denied, but he crossed the room towards a blank wall. As he approached, a panel slid aside and a space line screen emerged.
"Okay, I'll tell you," she blurted, desperate to stop him, and he turned to her. "We're the last humans. They wanted to save our genetic data for future generations, a sort of legacy. They created us, after all."
"You're brother and sister."
"Yes, but our genes can still be used with others, and we were the only ones not mutated or diseased."
"Not very plausible, I'm afraid. Your genetic data would have been stored in a lab by now, and even if it wasn't, it's not that important. If the Atlanteans are so desperate to find you, they must have a better reason than that." He faced the screen and activated it, waiting until a link was established and a grey Draycon face filled it.
"Get me Drevina," he ordered.
Rayne chewed her lip, searching her mind for another lie that would satisfy him, but sensed he would go ahead with his call anyway. She was amazed at how quickly the Draycon woman appeared, wearing a false smile.
"Shrike, how nice to hear from you."
"Cut the crap, Drevina. Why did the Atlanteans rescue this girl I bought from you today?"
She looked smug. "You should have found that out before you bought her. Like so many others, you couldn't resist a pretty face, could you?
"I had my reasons for buying her, now tell me why."
"Kill her, and you won't have to worry about it."
He shook his head. "I paid a lot for her. I'm not about to do that."
"You will when I tell you what she is."
"So tell me."
Drevina said, "She's the Golden Child of Atlantean prophecy, destined to save the Atlantean Empire from ruin. They'll search every corner of this galaxy for her, and when they find her they'll kill you. Kill her or sell her, if you value your life. Why do you think I got rid of her so quickly?"
He broke the connection, banishing her smug visage, and the space line screen slid back into the wall as he turned to Rayne. "Wonderful. Why did you try to keep it a secret? It's the one thing guaranteed to make me want to get rid of you."
"Or kill me."
"No, I'd be more likely to ransom you back to them."
"Then why don't you? They'll pay it."
"I'm sure they would, but I have other plans for you. The Atlanteans won't find you that quickly. It's a big galaxy." He went over to a chair and sank into it. "Who else knows about this, apart from the Atlanteans?"
"No one, as far as I know, why?"
"It would be inconvenient."
"So what are you going to do now?"
He shrugged. "It doesn't change my plans. Things are already in motion, so it's a bit late now. We'll see what happens."
His evasiveness and mystery angered and frustrated Rayne. Although she could sense little from him in the way of moods, she did not think he was lying. He did not have to, he just told her nothing. An idea struck her, and she stretched for
th her fledging telepathy in a clumsy attempt to read his mind. She sensed his thoughts under the surface of his consciousness, a seething cauldron of psychic activity normal for any mind. They were unintelligible to her inexperienced intellect, and she strived to unravel them.
A flash of red pain hit her behind her eyes, as if someone had thrust a hot poker into her brain. She staggered back with a yelp, clutching her temples. Her knees buckled, but the Shrike caught her before she hit the floor, gripping her arms. The pain vanished, leaving her dazed.
"You fool! Don't ever try that again." He lifted her and pushed her onto the couch. "I didn't know you were a damned telepath. I could have fried your brains, you idiot. Are you all right?"
Rayne nodded, her head pounding with an unbelievable migraine. He sat beside her, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on soothing the ache in her skull.
He said, "I though humans were incapable of telepathy. Whoever opened your mind to its powers did a very bad job of teaching you how to use them. They should have told you never to attempt such an obvious intrusion into a fellow telepath. I could have sworn you had no ability at all. You can't even hide your thoughts, although they are pretty clear. I should have realised."
The pain eased, and she opened her eyes, startled to find him so close, and even more surprised that his proximity did not disturb her. Instead, she found it exciting, and looked away as a wave of shyness washed over her.
He seemed to study her. "Is there anything else I should know about? I don't like surprises."
She rubbed her brow, frowning. "No, not really. Only that I'm a psy-healer."
"That's a rare talent."
"But I'm sure it doesn't change your plans, which, if you don't intend to make a huge profit by ransoming me back to the Atlanteans, can only mean you'll sell me to someone who will make me disappear forever, even if they don't kill me."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because, like Drevina, you stand to gain if Atlan falls. They've condemned you to death, and they hunt you. With them gone, you'd be free to do as you please."
"True," he agreed, "but I'm not Drevina. In fact, I have no liking for her at all, and a galaxy ruled by the Draycons is not a place I'd like to live in. The Atlanteans are a fair bunch, and their efforts to capture me have never caused me a problem. If Atlan fell, I'd more likely find myself at war with the Draycons, which wouldn't make me very happy."
"At war?" She snorted. "You mean wiped out! You're just a slaver. The Draycons have the second largest empire."
"They'd have a job wiping me out. My empire rivals theirs in size and is perhaps a little stronger in firepower."
She frowned. "That's impossible. I've been studying at the Atlantean library for years, and there's no mention of you in it at all."
"That doesn't surprise me. I'm sure there is, if you looked for it, but it's probably well hidden or classified. They don't like to admit that I exist. That's why they don't come looking for me. They know it would end up in a very bloody battle, and it's not worth it to capture one man. They'd rather wait for an opportunity to grab me when I'm away from my fleet and out of my territory, but that doesn't happen much."
"But you're an outlaw. How can you rule an empire?"
He shook his head. "I don't rule it exactly. I'm not a king or an emperor. It's an empire of wealth and ships and planets I've accumulated over the years. I have more ships than planets, and most of my people are fighters; outlaws, like me. Atlan and Draycon have massive civilian populations spread over many planets; a lot to protect with their fleets. The war between them was messy. Whole planets were wiped out before the Atlantean ships could reach them. I have a few more planets like this one; well hidden, where my crews are able to have families and holidays, but they spend most of their lives in space."
He paused, and Rayne urged, "Go on."
"That's about it. What else do you want to know?"
"How did you become the leader of your empire?"
"I built it. People flocked to my banner, you could say. It's taken fifty years to get this big, but it's still growing, because I keep building ships. I'm far less vulnerable than Atlan or Draycon. My planets are all well-guarded, since I have only a few of them."
"If you've had an empire for fifty years, you must be pretty old," she said.
"Not really. I'm a hundred and twenty-eight, which isn't old, considering I should live to see five hundred if Tallyn doesn't find me."
"Do you ever take that mask off?"
"Only in private,” he said. “It has filters to purify the air, and can protect me from some noxious gasses."
"Are you Atlantean?"
"No. My race is extinct, like yours."
"What happened to them?"
He looked away. "It's not something I like to talk about."
The Shrike rose to his feet, forestalling further questions, and wandered around the room, rearranging the things she had untidied in her search. She turned to watch him as he moved with cat-like grace. He righted a couple of ornaments, then went over to a wall and straightened a picture before facing her again.
"I have things to do. Food will be brought to you at the appropriate time."
After he left, she stared at the door for a while, startled by his abrupt exit.
The Shrike sat before a space line screen in his private sanctum, a gloved finger tracing the edge of his mask. The room’s tranquil ambience stemmed from its subdued decor of grey-blue walls and cream and glass furniture, recessed lighting and grey moss carpet. The plump, jovial face that filled the screen looked worried, and Vidan’s tone was unhappy.
"I agree, it all seems legitimate, but it's awfully risky. Is it really worth it to get Jamdar? You'll be out of your territory, with only one ship. You can't bring more without them being spotted, and if Urquat decides to rat you out Jamdar will have you."
"I want Jamdar," the Shrike said. "He's taken the bait. This is the closest I've ever come to cornering that slimy bastard. No one will suspect anything, it's a legitimate takeover. The only risk is in the kill itself."
"Because you insist on doing it yourself."
"It's my decision. I don't have the right to risk someone else’s life."
Vidan grimaced. "What if you’re killed? You're the most important person around here, you know. Others would give their lives for you. I'd do it myself!"
"I know you would. When is the meeting set for? We might have to rush this; certain other factors have come to light."
"Two days from now. Why? What other factors?"
The Shrike shook his head. "Nothing to be concerned about."
"When you say things like that, it only makes me more suspicious. I need to know all the circumstances surrounding this deal, or I'll pull the plug, I swear. If it's more dangerous than it seems, I need to know about it."
"You can't pull the plug."
"I could warn Jamdar."
"You'd do that?"
Vidan puffed out his cheeks. "If I thought it would save your life, yes."
"I should fire you." The Shrike sighed. "All right, it's the bait. It seems she's important to Atlan. They're looking for her, so I need to do this tomorrow, then they can have her back."
"Are you nuts?" Vidan's brown eyes widened in an almost comical expression of horror. "You're going to meet Jamdar with the damned Atlanteans on your tail?"
"They're not on my tail. It'll take them a few more days to find out I've got her, even if they grab Drevina. Then they have to try to find out which of my bases she's on. I just want this over and her off my hands before they start making a nuisance of themselves. Set up the meeting for tomorrow. Tell Jamdar it's a one-day deal."
"You are nuts. All right, I'll do it, but personally, I hope Jamdar tells you to go stick it."
"Thanks. Get back to me as soon as it's set."
Vidan snorted, and the space line went blank. The Shrike stared at it for a few minutes, then rose and left the sealed room in which he conducted his most secret communications.
Rayne looked up as the door opened to admit the Shrike, who moved with his usual unhurried grace. After a good supper, she had slept well and woken refreshed. Since her nights were not in sync with the planet's, dawn had not yet broken, and she had filled the time watching an entertainment vidfilm, nibbling on snacks. If anything, her prison was more comfortable than Tallyn's house. The Shrike glanced at the large, millimetre-thick crystal screen on which the vidfilm played, and it went black. The screen slid back into its socket, and Rayne shot him a frown.
"Come." He gestured towards the door, indicating that she should precede him through it. She put down her packet of snack bits, the alien equivalent of crisps, and rose to approach him. As she stepped into the corridor, the crazy urge to run took hold, but the sensation was short lived, for such an action was foolhardy and doomed from the outset. The prospect of discovering her fate cheered her somewhat as she strode ahead of him.
"Where are we going?"
"Just for a walk. I thought you'd like to see the base, get some fresh air, and stretch your legs."
A tart retort leapt onto her tongue, but she bit it back. It would be foolish and prideful to scorn his effort to make her comfortable, to say nothing of churlish and ungrateful. Instead, she gazed around at the scenery. People, whom she assumed were slaves, since they all wore collars, bowed to him as he passed, smiling. Most were Atlantean, but some had alien features and a few were truly unusual. They left the building, and he led her to a sleek gravcar. Dawn tinged the dome with delicate pink as the sun neared the horizon, brightening the sky outside. She found the car's confines uncomfortable, acutely aware of the man beside her.
The Shrike guided the car along a smooth black street towards the growing light, passing uniform, square buildings where people were just starting the day's work. They approached the edge of the dome, and he steered the vehicle onto a grassy area bordered by flowering trees. He parked it and climbed out, waiting for her to join him. Standing beside him, she gazed out through the clear barrier, enthralled by the desert's beauty.
After a few minutes, the sun touched the horizon with a line of liquid gold, then rose in a blaze of glory as the dust that flew in the bitter wind turned the sky into a medley of red, yellow, magenta and pink. The scant clouds were painted with the wonderful reflections of these colours, a paler counterpoint to the masterpiece. The huge orb of the magnified sun blazed at the centre, a great gold coin rising over the horizon.
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