“She told you the truth about our people.” Though Czarina continued gazing at the ocean, Symeon could feel her attention on him like a predator eyeing its next meal.
Symeon twisted toward her in surprise. She knew?
Of course, she knows. She and Kavya act more like sisters than heiress and handmaid. No doubt, she knows more of the princess’ secrets than you.
“Lady,” Symeon said, putting emphasis on the word. “I will not discuss my private conversations with the princess. Not with you, not with anyone in this castle. Is that understood?”
A slow smile creased Czarina’s lips. She stretched, leaning back in a way that showed off her trim figure to good effect, though she seemed blissfully unaware of the pose. Symeon watched her and fumed.
She turned to him when she was done, her teeth white in the moonlight. “I understand you, Symeon. I think I understand you very well.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“She told you, and now you’re frightened.”
Symeon couldn’t remember anyone accusing him of being afraid since he was a child. He felt his eyes go wide, the blood rush to his face. How dare she speak this way to him?
She’s right. You know it.
“That’s it,” Symeon said between his teeth. “I’m reporting you to Vlademar for extra duty until you can learn your place.”
“What is it about the truth that scares you?” Czarina watched his gaze without flinching or showing the least bit of contrition. “Do you love the Shorvex so much you can’t accept their wrongdoing even when it stares you in the face?”
“I’ll hear no more of this.” Symeon strode toward the balcony door fully expecting it to open. It didn’t. Assuming a malfunction, he tapped the open icon on the pad next to it. The door remained shut. He spun to face Czarina. “What have you done?”
“I understand how you feel right now, Symeon.” Czarina hadn’t moved from her spot. She leaned her back against the railing, watching him. “I was frightened, too, when I first understood the truth. And angry. For me, it was the anger that grew. Here I thought the Shorvex my benefactors, only to learn they were scoundrels who had stolen my birthright. Eventually, I settled down when I realized most of them have no idea what their ancestors did to our people. They live as blindly as we Luxing. They own us because that is all they’ve ever known, all their parents and grandparents, and on back a thousand years ever knew. Ignorance doesn’t make it right, but it’s understandable.”
No sentient should own another.
“Czarina.” Symeon bent forward to level their gazes. It was everything he could do to keep from raising his voice. “You will open this door now, or I’ll be forced to have you flogged.”
“Do you really believe some anonymous hackers the princess employed off the planetary sphere managed to dig up an ancient mystery at her request?”
Symeon shook his head, puzzled at her change of subject. “No, I don’t. I think some opportunistic thieves are taking advantage of the princess—selling her exactly what she’s paying to see. It’s like the old saying, ‘Never ask the barber if it’s time for a haircut.’”
Czarina smiled though her eyes remained serious. “The truth she acquired isn’t recently discovered. There are those of us who have known the real history of this world for centuries. We fed her the information without her realizing it.”
“Who is us?” Symeon didn’t believe her, and yet for some reason his stomach had gone tight.
“We call ourselves the Wuxia. It’s a fragmentary word drawn from a fragmentary concept. Its original meaning is all but lost. It meant something about secrets and heroes. To us, in this age, it means solidarity, endurance, and hope.”
“Hope for what?”
Freedom .
“Freedom.”
Symeon shook his head. The sound of blood rushing in his ears made his own words sound distant. “You’re making this up. You’re playing a game with me.”
“No one knows exactly who formed the Wuxia network, nor when it came about. It has existed for hundreds of years. Luxing of every duchy around the world, and even the moon colonies, belong to our order. We have plotted a way to win free of the Shorvex for generations. We think the coming of the Bith might be the catalyst we’ve been waiting for.”
“If you believe all that, you’re a fool. You’ve been swindled by grifters. How much do they charge you to be a member of this Wuxia? Do you pay by the month, the quarter?” Even to Symeon, his words sounded manic, grasping. He didn’t care. None of this was real. He would not fall for whatever con had taken in Czarina and the princess. More than ever, he felt convicted to turn them in to Ivan rab Rurikid for their own good.
“You are star born, are you not?” Czarina stood up from the balustrade and padded close to Symeon, seeming to size him up, watching his eyes.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You were decanted from a stasis incubator aboard a ship that has been in orbit of this planet for as long as anyone can remember.”
Symeon remained still, determined to volunteer nothing.
“Do you find it odd that the ancient Shorvex from a thousand years ago were able not only to uplift we lowly Luxing from our bestial state, but to likewise artificially conceive and store thousands of children aboard the progenitor craft?”
“No, I do not find it odd, because that is exactly what happened.”
Czarina leaned forward a few centimeters. “Then why can’t they do that sort of thing today?”
Symeon’s lips turned down in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
You know very well what she means.
“Where are our stasis fields today? In a thousand years of studying, the Shorvex have never been able to fully replicate the ones found on those ships—the same ones that perfectly preserved you until the grand duke’s doctors and financiers determined it was time for you to be born.”
Though the idea had never crossed Symeon’s mind, he could see Czarina was right. Today’s Shorvexan scientists worked with far less efficient versions of the stasis incubators. Awe inspiring as they might be, no one would entrust one of their contraptions to keep an infant suspended for much more than a couple of months. Symeon and his cousins aboard the progenitor ships had survived a millennium.
“No one even asks the question,” Czarina said, watching his face with avid interest. “We’re conditioned to keep our heads down, remain incurious, do as we’re told, because if we do, Symeon, we might see the truth. The Shorvex can’t replicate that technology, because they never invented it in the first place.”
It is your heritage, not theirs. See it, feel it, know its truth.
A flood of images like those he had seen earlier that day when speaking with Kavya ransacked Symeon’s mind like an unexpected tornado. He reeled under the onslaught, powerless to clear his thoughts for the sights, sounds, and overwhelming sensations.
He saw a mass of people, his people, dark haired and dark eyed, queuing up to board transport ships under a bright azure sky. Though they moved in good order, dealing fairly with one another, Symeon knew without knowing, as if in a dream, that some dire calamity would soon dash the sky above and bring destruction to all these people had ever known or loved.
No sooner had that image come than another took its place. Symeon found himself floating in a black void empty of all sense of being and yet existent all the same. Light spilled into the blackness, and with it the images of peopl e— billions of peopl e— all of them like him. They spoke all at once, carrying on separate conversations that ran together like melting snow, and yet Symeon understood them without strain. They shared with him their dreams, their fears, their triumphs, and their greatest failures. Through it all, Symeon reveled in their stories and the bonds those tales forged between him and his multitudinous friends. Over time, some of the faces grew old and disappeared, only to be replaced by children and teenagers and a billion more new conversations.
Next, he saw a blue pl
anet awash in frothy white clouds dwindling in the distance, becoming ever smaller as it receded away from him. It had become little more than a bright object in the star-strewn expanse of the galaxy when it winked out of existence, gone for all time. Forlorn heartache crushed Symeon’s spirit when the light of that world went dark, and yet hope remained, couched within the tens of thousands of sleeping humans sleeping under his watch.
“Symeon?”
He blinked at Czarina for several seconds without recognizing her, the high balcony, even himself. He drew a shuddering breath. “What was that?”
“Where did you go?” she asked. “Your face went slack. I thought for a moment you were having some sort of fit.”
You were seeing the past—the true past. Your people’s past.
“Who are you?” Symeon wasn’t certain who he was asking. Himself? Possibly. With all Kavya and Czarina had told him, he had to wonder what that made him.
Czarina, unaware of his inner thoughts, grinned. “I’m the woman the Wuxia sent to protect Princess Kavya. She is our most powerful ally in hundreds of years. We are determined to make her safe.”
The steel in Czarina’s voice put Symeon back on his guard. He stole a longer, more meaningful look at her. “You came here to kill me?”
“Only if you make it necessary.” Czarina set her chin the way any smart fighter might before facing a barrage from an opponent. Though she made no move to lift her hands, Symeon could see her ready herself for a fight.
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“I need to know if you’re a threat to the princess. I thought I might watch you for a few days, but I’m afraid you might message Ivan in the meantime.”
“I have no intention of turning Kavya over to Ivan or her father,” Symeon said, his voice serious. He still felt shaken by the images he had seen and flummoxed by their origins. Did he somehow possess a racial memory due to his star born ancestry?
“Good, then I won’t be forced to throw you off this balcony.”
Symeon raised an eyebrow at the woman before him. She stood a head shorter and probably carried a little over half his weight. “The day you can throw me over that railing is the day I give up and start calling you Seneschal.”
The words had no more than passed Symeon’s lips when Czarina moved. Part of him had been half expecting her to try something—certainly not an attempt on his life, but maybe a sucker punch to catch him off guard.
Czarina’s shin connected with Symeon’s outer thigh like a lightning bolt. Too many years boxing had indoctrinated him to expect a punch. The kick not only caught him unaware, it folded him up like a sheet as every nerve in his leg simultaneously exploded in pain. Desperate to catch himself, Symeon clutched at the balcony railing, only to realize his mistake after his weight and momentum had turned against him.
It was the work of a second for the much smaller Czarina to hook Symeon’s injured leg, hoist her shoulder under his hip, and toss him bodily over the rail. For one panicked moment, Symeon thought he would go sailing into space and plummet to his death.
And he would have done, except Czarina reversed her momentum at the final instant, allowing him to gain purchase, his body half on and half over the topmost rail. Clutching hard at his shoulder and ankle, she bore down with all her might and weight to drag him back across the threshold.
Symeon collapsed on the stones, chest heaving, eyes wide with fright. Czarina, standing a safe distance from his reach, offered him an odd, two-fingered salute, touching one eyebrow.
“Emperor Pyotr will call his banners in the coming days,” she said, as if nothing had happened. “That call will necessitate a war council of the full divor, the high and the low. The Wuxia will see to it Kavya attends.”
Symeon grunted as he sat up. His hands were shaking, his heart still pounding. “Impossible. She’s banished, and not only that, she’s not part of the divor. The high council won’t have her.”
“She will be there.” Czarina’s tone brooked no argument. She narrowed her eyes at him. “The question is, will you?”
* * * * *
Chapter 10
Symeon woke four and a half hours later out of a deep slumber to the sound of his personal comm buzzing.
“Hello?” He pushed a sleep-numbed hand through his disheveled black hair, thankful he hadn’t pressed the holo button.
“Seneschal?” Princess Kavya’s voice carried both a note of concern and irritation. “You arranged a meeting with me at 0800 in my office. Why am I the only one here?”
“I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t sleep well last night. I apologize, I completely forgot.” He had planned to pour over some of Kavya’s most recent expense reports with her, though that idea seemed moot now. Perhaps he should cancel the meeting. He doubted the Princess would mind since she had told him everything about her secret spending already. But part of him wanted to see her anyway. He knew Czarina and her shadowy Wuxia wouldn’t approve, but he had a mind to inform Kavya about them. If they were all Czarina claimed, Kavya deserved to know about their meddling in her life.
Symeon attempted to sit up and groaned at the sudden pain in his stiff muscles. The strain of nearly falling from the wine tower’s balcony had left him surprisingly sore.
“What’s wrong?” Kavya asked.
An image of Czarina shouldering him over the balcony railing flashed through Symeon’s mind and he nearly groaned again. “Nothing, Princess.” Maybe telling wasn’t the best idea right now, but he at least wanted to speak with her a bit more about the supposed true history of his people. “Shall I meet you in ten minutes?”
“Very well.” Kavya sounded glum. “It’s not as though I have much else to do anyway.”
Symeon showered and dressed quickly. His stomach demanded breakfast, but he ignored its gurgling. He would swipe something from the kitchens after his meeting. Dressed in his finest suit of gray wool with double cuffed sleeves, he headed across the castle proper, nodding to the many slaves along his way.
These people should be free.
Symeon had never thought such a thing. He wondered what dreams and ambitions this passing errand girl might have? Or that handyman filling holes in the plaster? Common Shorvex, many of whom couldn’t afford to own a Luxing, used robots for such menial tasks. The rich took pride in owning a Luxing instead. It was a status symbol. But in a world where no one needed to fold a shirt or paint a room, why should certain people be forced to do those things? Simply so their supposed masters would take some form of pride by proxy in the accomplishment?
Disgusting.
Compared to many of her station, Kavya possessed few slaves, and yet they made up a veritable army of cooks, janitors, errand runners, and gardeners. Far more than needed to pamper a single young woman. And why, if she felt so adamantly opposed to owning Luxing, had she brought so many to Yaya Island?
Simple. She saved them.
Symeon stopped in the middle of the castle’s main hall, his head tilted to one side, completely unaware of his fellow Luxing bustling past him. As Seneschal, he knew the numbers of Kavya’s staff without any need to reference his comm. One hundred twenty-seven when she could have gotten on fine with perhaps ten, maybe fewer. She had brought them here, all she could cajole out of her father, in order to keep them from the vagaries of regular servitude. Now that Symeon was thinking about it, he realized how much freedom the common servants enjoyed on Yaya Island. Not once had he heard of a Luxing suffering a beating for some offense, nor did the senior staff treat their lesser like children or, as Symeon had seen in other places, animals. They all seemed to appreciate one another, and that appreciation flowed from the top. Kavya treated her slaves like Shorvexan employees—expected to perform their duties but respected for doing so. Nothing came for granted with her.
She is a good, kind person, worthy of service.
Symeon didn’t know why this came as a revelation to him. Perhaps because he had never experienced it from a Shorvex of any stripe. Even the common sort who r
an shops and businesses treated Luxing like children. They spoke down to him and his kind. They expected Luxing to steal, to lie, to lack intelligence enough to understand the world around them.
Not Kavya.
She treated her slaves like peers. Why hadn’t he noticed that before now?
Because you were raised to be, and to remain, blind.
“Are you lost, Seneschal?”
Symeon jumped at the sudden intrusion on his thoughts by a voice he was quickly coming to associate with uncomfortable, possibly painful, experiences. Czarina smirked at him, her dark eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Only in thought,” he said in what he thought a smooth recovery. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Princess Kavya.”
“I know.” Czarina fell in beside him despite his attempt to escape her. “Did you sleep well?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Symeon endeavored to keep the anger out of his voice and failed miserably. He sounded like a scolded child complaining about his nurse.
“Good. You’re going to need your wits sharp today.”
“Is that right?” Yes, Symeon was definitely telling the princess about her handmaid’s secret life first chance he got. For all he knew, it wasn’t even real. The Wuxia could be something Czarina had made up due to some heretofore undiagnosed psychosis. Considering her threats against him and attempt on his life, she was certainly no fit companion for Grand Duke Alexei’s only child.
You’re embarrassed she bested you in a fight. Quit being a horse’s ass.
“Yes,” she said idly, “Ivan rab Rurikid is on his way here. Now.”
Symeon forced himself to resolutely not miss a step or jerk his gaze around to her. “How do you know this?”
Salvage Mind (Salvage Race Book 1) Page 8
