The opening of the new colony on Exodus, with its lax administration, small populace, and virgin lands, had purred a siren’s song to him across the galaxy, a rainscape in the pool of the night sky.
For eight years he’d lived in the Exodan desert. The solitude of the Chayne Gwer, with its parched and pocked folds of stone, twisted by time, weathered by the wind of ages past, had repaired the logic of his heart. He’d opened himself to the friendship of the Dailjan, and they had mended his soul, but the ardor of his mind had remained anesthetized . . . until Dina.
No bigger shock had he ever experienced as when he learned a female telepath had come to Exodus and that she needed his help. Help her he did, and nothing afterward had been the same. She had awakened his mind and touched parts of him he’d thought lost forever in darkness. She’d been a storm of light, scorching away the blindfolds from the vision of both his mind and his eyes, forcing him to see anew. He saw the true beauty of the desert through her, the true goodness of his comrades, and the need to take action. He’d found the m’riri with his new eyes, and had interlocked them with those of Dina in the ecstasy of bonding. Need her? I would die without her, he thought.
Sage returned home from the port, and the visit to the Glacian community was again forgotten, as Rayn spoke to Sage about the Sundrion and their offer. Finally, Rayn asked Sage how he had managed to adjust to life on B’harata after having been outworld for so long.
Sage brushed the curtain of black hair from his face. “It wasn’t easy, as I’m sure Cyonne can tell you. I felt many of the same emotions I’m sure you’re wrestling with now.” He bowed his head, then raised it again. “Cyonne. I couldn’t have done it without her. She kept me sane and kept me from killing half the people I came into contact with. I’ve no doubt I’d either be dead or banished to a penal colony if it weren’t for her stability, good sense, and love. She also interceded with Ryol to help me get my job and this house.”
“She described your relationship with Rye as a ‘cold war.’”
Sage laughed. “I suppose that’s accurate. I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me. We’ll never be friends, but I’m indebted to him, so I try to be civil when we’re in the same room.”
“What about the future, Sage? What do you want?”
He shook his head. “I can’t answer that, Rayn. I’ve come a long way just to get to the point I’m at now.”
Rayn nodded, understanding. There was a lingering restlessness in Sage that he wasn’t ready or willing to admit to. Was Sage and Cyonne’s situation a foreshadowing of his own future life with Dina?
The evening passed, and when Rayn stretched out on his bed to sleep, he thought again of Dina and the desert, but a feeling of wrongness pervaded the trail of his musings. He rose and sent a silent message to Sage. I’m going Outside. I’ll be back before morning.
I have a wetland suit downstairs. Take it if you want. And be careful. The violence goes both ways.
Rayn smiled, knowing he didn’t have to thank Sage. He called for an air taxi and directed the vehicle to let him off at the nearest exit to the Outside. He went through a security checkpoint, had his arm ring scanned, and walked out into the wet night. The air was balmy, and a soft rain sifted down. Rayn carried the wetland suit, but didn’t wear it. He stood in the gentle shower bare-chested and raised his face to the sky. It was the first time he’d been out in the elements since he’d left Exodus, and the first time in a decade he stood in the rain.
He opened his mouth and tasted the ambrosial drops that ran down his face just as his mind tasted the sweet memories that trickled in. This was the rain in which his mother had performed the m’riri, melodious as chimes caught in the wind’s embrace. He felt the radiance of his mother’s smile, warming him on the chilliest of days, cheering him on the most humid of evenings, and calming him during the darkest of hours, when the bright children of the night dressed in clouds of gray lace and hid their faces from their earthbound audience.
You are strong with the dens, Raynga, and for that I am glad, for it means you will live. But for life, Raynga’cha, for life, you need the m’riri . . .
His mother’s words were as strong now as when she was alive, and he had never forgotten them. He opened his eyes, blinked the raindrops from his lashes, and pushed the soaked strands of hair away from his face.
This was not a main thoroughfare, as the Dome of the Golden Bough was a small residential dome, but Rayn knew he couldn’t lose all caution in the musings of the past. The rain eased to a fog drop, and he continued down the road, keeping an eye out for other night travelers. Foliage was thick along the road, and broad fans of leaves bowed to him in the indolent breeze as he passed. He drifted down the lane, and an hour later, his patience was rewarded at last. The stars kicked away their gray coverings and lit the vault of the heavens.
He came to a clearing beyond a small swale and threw the wetland suit onto the ground, wet side down. He sat on the dry side and settled himself as comfortably as he could against the stump of a long-dead China tree, his face upturned, as if to receive a blessing.
T’anga’cha, come to me. I was blind without your light, lost without your touch, powerless without your spark. Know that I need you, all of you, now and forever.
The words were a prayer, cast to the heavens. The beautiful sky and the prayer should have made him feel better, but they didn’t. Dina was out there, somewhere, coming closer to him with each passing moment, yet the energy he felt was somehow wrong. There was a dischord to the night, a dissonance to the very air he breathed. He lingered a while longer, memorizing the star patterns as if they were words that could explain the feelings he couldn’t put a finger on. White stars blinked, red stars pulsed, and blue stars glowed against an ink-black page.
He told himself his disquiet was simply a result of his contentious meetings with his brother and the Sundrion, but as he walked back to the dome, the only message the stars continued to convey to him was one of impending doom.
Chapter Five
The Slave Desert
DINA STOOD IN the chill air of the endless day. The metal cuffs were finally off her wrists, replaced by the cuffs of a jacket. She was hardly comfortable, though, bearing on her back a pack filled with food, water, and supplies. Kyl, not seeming to mind the cool weather, wore no jacket, just a long-sleeved shirt under the feathered breastplate that molded to his torso like a metal skin. His utility belt circled his waist, he carried a large pack on his back, and he’d slung his long rupter rifle over one shoulder.
She jounced up and down, adjusting the pack brace just a little. “Desert? It’s freezing out here,” she mumbled, immediately sorry she’d said anything at all. His lifted brow and the twist to his mouth spoke of his amusement before he replied.
“Lack of precipitation marks a desert, not the temperature. Don’t you know that, Hellfire? Besides, it’s not freezing. This is summer, and what you see around you is the Eden of Ror.” He turned in a complete circle before her, his arms outstretched and palms skyward. “Aye, a virtual playground for the Gods this is, so stop complaining.”
She glared at him, then did as he did, a slow about-face, and her hopes sank even lower. A flat, ulcerated landscape in patches of dark reds and browns extended in every direction as far as the eye could see, with only occasional humps, like the carcasses of giant beasts, breaking the monotony. She took a step and winced as her foot turned sideways into a crack in the soil that, like a seeping sore, brimmed with liquid.
“Oh, and watch your step. This ground makes for a treacherous hike,” he added.
She flashed a look at him as cold as she felt. “Oh, really? How can this be a damned desert with all this water?”
“What little water there is has no place to go. It’s too cold for a high rate of evaporation, and the ground just below the surface is always frozen, so there’s no drainage. The water you see just
sits, alternately freezing and thawing, so have a care. I wouldn’t want any damaged goods when we get to Paradise.”
She glared at him again and silently damned him to the Void over and over. If she thought any of her curses would hurt him, she’d have voiced them, but she held them back. Insults would roll off him, and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of mildly ignoring her words.
He paid no attention to her look and started moving, stepping carefully but with confidence over the ground.
Her questioning mind, though, trained too well over the years, wouldn’t allow her to be completely still. “I thought you had friends in this place. Can’t you just call for help?” She shook her foot to make sure it was all right, then dutifully followed Kyl.
Turning slightly, he shouted over his shoulder. “I can’t chance it. If Repere follows, there’s a possibility he could lock onto my signal and finish the job he started. I want to find a good campsite well away from the escape pod before we quit for the day. I don’t think there’re any large settlements near here, but there’s a chance the Qual could have seen the pod land.”
A thousand more questions filled her head, but in her present mood she was reluctant to beg for answers, as she had on the shuttle, so she kept her eyes on the ground before her and picked her way carefully over the uneven ground. She tried not to think about the man in front of her, occupying her mind instead on the small plants growing beneath her feet. Grasses, sedges, mosses and lichens abounded, as well as small, fragile looking flowers that made Dina smile every time she saw one. She wondered how such small jewels of bright yellow and soft blue could flourish in such a harsh environment.
Two hours later, Kyl stopped in the shelter of a large hummock of ice, dirt, and rock. Dina, never more glad to stop walking, had struggled to keep up with him, but hadn’t complained. Even with her hands unrestrained, her mobility over the rough ground had been limited, and the pack on her back had worsened matters, throwing her balance off. Though the air was chill, the exertion of the fast-paced hike had kept her warm. Now, as her body cooled, she began shivering uncontrollably.
Kylariz took heat blankets and enough food and water for a small meal out of the packs. She uttered no thanks to him, but wrapped the blanket around her and tried to wiggle into a small niche in the rock face.
They ate in silence. Afterward, Kylariz leaned back against the rock and gazed at the sky. The pale sun, Dey Tron, circled the horizon far, far away. Much larger in the sky was Gigas, looming bloated and bright.
His gaze dropped to her. “I didn’t think it was in you, Hellfire, to hold your tongue for so long.”
Tired as she was, Dina focused all her energy into a defiant stare. His dull hair took on a golden cast in the strange light, but his eyes, as usual, were shadowed. “I have no reason or desire to converse with you,” she replied.
“No? I’d have thought the questions would be bubblin’ from you like grog from a tapper.”
Questions she had. Energy to ask them she didn’t. “Why should I bother? You won’t talk to me anyway.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. For every one of my questions you answer, I’ll answer one of yours. Agreed?”
His offer gave her a boost. There was probably a catch somewhere in his proposal, but if he was willing to share information, she’d give it a try. “I don’t agree to anything, but go ahead and ask.”
“What were you before you boarded the Palladia? What was your job?”
Of course. The same question as before. But her defiance weakened against her exhaustion, and besides, she saw little reason now to keep the truth from him. It was clear he’d trade or sell her whenever the opportunity arose, regardless of who she was.
“I was an agent for the Interplanetary Investigative Bureau on Glacia.”
He didn’t seem surprised; in fact, she saw him nod his head slightly as if he’d known it all along.
“My turn. What are the Qual you spoke of?”
“A humanoid species, brought here long ago as slave labor. When the Synergy pulled out, the Qual remained. And flourished, I might add. Primitive and as ugly as the landscape. Most avoid Paradise, but some mingle with the humans there, doing menial labor in exchange for tap or coin. Some even know standard Glacian. But all of them are fierce and interested only in themselves. They’re not out to make friends, though they’ll have you thinkin’ otherwise. They’ll smile and nod at you, when all that’s really on their minds is what you have and how they can get it. Remember that.”
“They don’t sound much different from a certain someone I know.”
He ignored her and asked his next question. “You spoke of the IIB as if it’s all in the past. What happened with your job?”
“I resigned. For personal reasons.”
“Those having to do with your one-way ticket to the Dark Star?”
“Yes. That’s two questions.”
“Then I owe you two answers,” came his soft reply.
“How far is this Paradise?”
“About fifty decbars.”
“Will the ship belonging to the space rat come after us? I thought you said he couldn’t make planetfall.”
“He’s got a drop ship on board, just like I had on the Tisiphone. He’ll not be in a hurry. Hopefully he thinks I’m dead. If not, he knows where to find me.”
Dina frowned. “What about your pilot, Rhoan? What’ll happen to him?”
“It’s my turn. But no matter. Sandy’ll be fine. Don’t let his boyish charm fool you. He’s an accomplished warrior as well as a genius with ships. His passion will probably do him in some day, but when he can control it, there’s none his equal.”
“He sacrificed himself for you.”
Only the sounds of the frozen desert came to her in response. The wind cried in a steady, keening moan, and a solitary animal far off lifted a melancholy chord into the breeze, to be carried, hopefully, to its mate. Just as she thought he wouldn’t answer, she heard his voice.
“He knew I’d do the same for him.”
She felt goosebumps ebb and flow along her arms like waves, and she clutched the blanket tighter to her body. His aura had touched her again. It had been the yellow portion this time—warm, like sunlight and sand. Had he wanted her to feel it, or had her heightened senses inadvertently picked it up? She closed her eyes and concentrated her efforts on controlling her body. The goosebumps melted away, and warmth engulfed her.
He rose suddenly and quickly set up a small tent next to the knoll, moving his weapons and supplies inside. Holding the flap open, he looked at her.
“Need an invitation, Highness? Or do you prefer sittin’ in the cold?”
Carrying her blanket and pack, she turned sideways to step past him into the tent, drawing a deep breath of resignation as she did so. It was a mistake. Her nostrils filled with his scent of musk and spice, and the hairs on her arms prickled with the quiet power she felt radiate from his body. She looked into his eyes as she passed him, and her intake of breath quickened. The pale eyes, struck by the angled light, took on the golden cast his hair had, allowing her to really see them for first time. They were old eyes, not in that they were rheumy or bloodshot, but in that they look haunted, as if he’d seen too many old friends die. As she sat down, he stepped in front of her and crouched before her.
“Your hand.”
The feelings of relaxation and warmth vanished when she realized his intention. “You can’t be serious. Where would I go?” She tried to sit on her hands, but he yanked on one arm, his grip like a vise.
“As much as I could warn you about the slim chance you’d have of surviving here without me, or the dangers of the Qual and the wilderness, I’ve no doubt that left unrestrained, you’d sneak off like a rebellious child.”
“You bastard,” she ground out through gritted teeth, wishing her tire
d mind could recall all the names she’d mentally flung at him on the Megaera. His hands held her so tightly she felt her pulse throb against the palms of his hands. She closed her eyes as Kyl snapped a cuff around one of her wrists and then one around one of his.
“Call me what you will. At least I know you’re safe this way.”
“You mean you know your prize can’t escape,” she shot back, wishing for a darkness that didn’t exist to hide her humiliation.
“The force field is set for two bars. Plenty of distance between us. Get some sleep. You’re going to have a long, hard day tomorrow, and we’re not going to be stopping to rest every time you whine about being tired or your feet hurting.”
He made himself comfortable, turned away from her, and said not another word. She bit back a profanity and moved as far away from him as she could before the field between the two cuffs stopped her. Two bars of intervening space sounded like a lot of room, but it wasn’t nearly enough for her. She had dislodged her blanket and squirmed to adjust it. She’d be damned if she’d ask him for help. With the blanket finally covering her as much as possible, she practiced her relaxation techniques until the mantle of sleep prevailed over her anger and discomfort.
But she slept fitfully, and strange dreams of the desert whirled like cyclones, touching down briefly in her mind. Visions of the dizzying noonday sun and hypnotic waves of shimmering sand teased her with promises of warmth, but dissipated and spun away, leaving her colder than before. Between one dream and the next, half awake, she inched instinctively toward the warmth.
A predatory bird shrieked a strident greeting high above her. Dina had been floating contentedly on a warm sea, but the shrill cry startled her into wakefulness. Warmth flooded her senses first, so comforting she was reluctant to move. A toasty red glow enveloped her, and radiating the warmth was a hard unyielding body she could feel as intensely through the layers of her clothes as if she were naked. A steady beat kept time in her ear.
Crimson Rain Page 8
