Though he didn’t want to think the worst, the thoughts came, almost of their own accord. He had indeed now told Ryol everything of his plan. If the Run refused his case, what would Ryol do? Would he see that Rayn was pursued and brought back to B’harata to answer charges? He certainly had all the information to do just that. Or would Ryol turn the other way and let Rayn go?
Rayn rose, stepped to the solid stone wall of the oratory, and leaned against it. He ran his hand over the slick surface, the individual stones smooth from the centuries of water that had flowed down their sides. Trailing his fingertips over the cool stones, he walked to the entrance, paused a moment, then bent his head and entered the House. The total absence of light was at first unnerving, but Rayn soon adjusted his senses. Feeling his way to the rear of the House, forgoing the ancient tradition of lying on the floor, he sat instead and leaned against the wall. There, in the dead of night, far from anyplace he could call home, he performed the m’riri.
The last time he’d summoned the ritual for guidance had been on Exodus. There, he’d used the glimmering mirage of the Ghel Mar, the Sea of Glass, as his meditation focus in order to resolve the problem of Dina, then an agent for the Interplanetary Investigative Bureau, her search for a countryman of his, Gyn T’halamar, and her plea that Rayn help her.
Rayn now used the rectangular patch of gray that was the building’s doorway as his focus. As he studied the curtain of rain that showed through the doorway, he felt his mind relax and clear itself of all doubts and questions, all images and voices. The veil of silver beads at the portal seemed to expand, until it was all he saw, and he heard no sound, not even the splash of the rain hitting the stone.
Two hours later, the m’riri complete, Rayn left the House of Darkness, brought the small air car to life, and returned to the city. He’d done all he could do. Now, his fate was in the hands of the Gods. And in the hands of a brother who hated him.
THE FOLLOWING FEW days crept by with agonizing slowness. Rayn heard nothing from Ryol or anyone else purporting to be a messenger of the Run. The daytime hours, during which Sage worked at his job, were the hardest for Rayn. Not feeling comfortable at the house with Cyonne, and needing to keep busy, he haunted the port for hours on end. He did as much research in the reference room of Port Communications as he could tolerate, viewing file after file on everything from interplanetary commerce and shipping lanes to a history of the Sundrion before his muscles and his mind screamed for the relief of action.
At such times even the soothing fingering of Dina’s ring, which he wore suspended on a heavy chain around his neck, seemed to remind him of his helplessness, as if he, too, were nothing but a golden prize, hung on the end of a fob, to be swung and played with by the Run. There was nothing for it at times like these, except to return the exodite eye to its home over his heart and to stretch his body. He walked the interior of the Domes, and when that failed to abate his restlessness, he wandered the wetlands.
Twice more he borrowed one of the Z’andarc air cars and journeyed to M’tariel, drawn to the House of Darkness as if it had been a siren calling to him. The ancient stones sang to him of strength and endurance in the face of change, and when he entered the cool interior, he felt the walls embrace him with a peace he hadn’t felt in many days.
The solitude calmed his restlessness and opened a pathway to his soul, so that when he practiced the m’riri, he could visualize each spiritual element of the House and draw it deep into his heart and soul. The solidity and steadfastness of the rock, repelling all the fury that the B’haratan skies unleashed, day after day, the durability of the structure itself, conquering the chaos of time, and the energy of the House and all the souls who had prayed there from time immemorial—all these things he pulled to him, breathing them, feeding on them, until they were a part of him.
At the end of his final visit, he thought of the desert on Exodus, of the patience and controlled discipline that had ruled his life then, and of the friends who had made it possible. He would have to trust again—trust Sage, Ryol, and above all, himself.
Three days later Rayn heard Ryol’s voice in his head.
Meet me in the Park of the Golden Bough in one hour.
Rayn arrived early, and instead of pacing, sat on a bench near the golden lyra tree with his eyes closed, his mind open. So clear was his mind that he felt the energy from Ryol’s thoughts before his brother was even within sight. Rayn waited, eyes still shuttered, until Ryol was at the head of the pathway that led to the golden tree.
“Hello, brother,” Rayn said softly, opening his eyes only when Ryol was directly in front of him.
“Rayn.” The acknowledgment was brief. Ryol said nothing more.
Rayn stood, knowing the test of his patience and control had begun, and he searched his brother’s face, but there was no clue to Rayn’s fate in Ryol’s hooded dark eyes or his stern features, etched, as always, in a mask-like scowl. Rayn waited, knowing impatience would not serve him.
Ryol exhaled a long, slow breath. “Know this, Rayn. The Run does not grant wishes, nor does it bestow favors. It merely presents . . . possibilities.”
“I understand.”
“Know also that what you request is prohibitive in cost. This, then, is what the Run presents to you. You and Z’andarc will be granted passage and diplomatic status aboard a Sundrion astral ship. As ranking members of the Sundrion, you’ll have access to the Glacian Diplomatic Corp. There’s a good possibility that the Glacians, in turn, will allow you access to other Synergy entities, such as the Interplanetary Space Division.”
The implications of what Ryol was saying rushed through Rayn’s mind like a flash flood, and he fought to quiet his emotions. It was not a rejection, but the proposal, as had been that of the Sundrion only days earlier, sounded more to the advantage of others than to himself.
“If I have no authority aboard this ship to go to places I think this raider might be, this is of no use to me.”
“Patience, brother. I have not finished.”
Ryol took a deep breath and sat down on the bench, gesturing to Rayn to sit beside him. “You will not have the authority to send the ship from one end of the galaxy to the other on a whim, but if you have reliable information regarding the raider, the captain will be instructed to take the ship anywhere within Synergy Space or the Grid.”
“And if there is a dispute about what constitutes ‘reliable information,’ who has the final say?”
“The captain.”
Rayn looked away, his gaze moving from the lyra tree to a row of blue-green smoke bushes beyond, their feathery flower stalks reaching upwards, as if poised to paint the domed ceiling high above.
“Rayn. I can hear the turnings in your head. Do not think about pitting your will against that of others on the ship. You will lose.” The harsh voice then softened, a tone Rayn had not heard from his brother in countless years. “You may not realize it, little brother, but your goal is not so different from that of the Sundrion. There is a strong desire on all sides to try to rid the shipping lanes of the worst of the raiders. You’ll have more cooperation than you think. It’s a good offer.”
Rayn turned and locked his gaze with his that of his brother. There was no touching of minds, but even so, Rayn saw emotion surface from the umber depths, giving a gleam to the eyes that had looked at him so coldly for so many decades.
Rayn raised one arm, hand upward, fingers coiled loosely, and after but a heartbeat, the other man leaned forward, entwined his arm with Rayn’s, and grasped the offered hand.
The deal with the devil was made.
Chapter Eleven
Escape
KYL RETURNED AN hour later and saw the note even before he called Dina’s name. He picked up the slip of paper, already knowing she was gone. Kyl, it seems my destiny with you has come to an end. I couldn’t bear the thought of any more arguments or pr
olonged good-byes. My prayers for your safety, and a part of me, will always be yours. Dina.
He swore, a long string of crude profanities he’d learned many years ago and light-years away. He couldn’t let her go, not like this. She’d be dead or enslaved within a week. Hell, with her looks, within a day. The thought of her caught by a true slaver chilled him to the bone and spurred him into action. He ran from the rooming house, already guessing where she was likely to go. She’d taken the time to clean the room, so he knew she had less than an hour’s head start on him. She would try for quick passage, probably to any destination. He ran several blocks to Spacer Row, at the city’s southern fringe. The long building was like a huge, segmented worm, each segment being a bay large enough to hold a ship and basic quarters for its crew.
Kyl checked one bay after another. All the pilots he spoke to had seen her, and all had refused her passage. She was lucky, he thought, that none of this jaded lot had seen her for what she was, or they would have taken her and held her for sale without a second thought. The fifth pilot he spoke to was a fat, foul-smelling man that Kyl knew as Myg. Myg was a true space rat, a parasite who took what he could with the least amount of risk or effort. Most raiders had some sort of code they operated by, but true space rats had none and garnered no respect in the raider community.
“Sure, I saw her, not fifteen minutes ago. But you know me, Kylariz. No coin, no passage.”
Kyl looked down at the shorter man with a stare that would freeze water in the desert. “Aye . . . I know you, Myg.”
Kyl checked the next bay, and the one after, but neither pilot reported seeing the slender woman. Kyl swore again. It might be too late already. He had no doubt now that the second he’d left, Myg had started making arrangements to move Dina.
Back at Myg’s bay in seconds, Kyl kicked in the door with a fury that gave him added strength, took three long strides, and booted the rupter out of Myg’s hand. He grabbed the fat man around the neck in a choke hold with his right arm and held his killing knife against the man’s neck with his left.
“This is the Phoenix speaking now. You know your life means nothing to me. You have exactly three seconds to tell me where the girl is before I drench the floor with your worthless life’s blood.”
“She’s gone,” squeaked Myg.
“Where? Two seconds of life left.”
“I don’t know!”
“No more shit, Myg. The next word out of your mouth better be gold. You’re out of time.”
“All right! Repere’s got her.”
“How long ago?” Kyl tightened the choke hold and felt the man’s flaccid body quiver with fear.
“Five minutes, I swear!” The squeak of his voice was barely audible, but Kyl heard it.
“How much did he give you for her?”
“Five hundred.”
It was a low price for a beauty like Dina. Myg had been in a hurry indeed to get rid of her.
“Where is it?” Kyl’s snarl was almost feral.
“. . . right hand pocket.”
Kyl felt for the coins, then twisted the man’s neck, applied the measured force of a well-practiced move, and, hearing the man’s neck snap, flung the body to the floor. A rodent who doesn’t deserve to live, thought Kyl, and if Vaizya’s so much as touched her, he’ll get the same.
He raced to the next bay and spoke again to the seasoned pilot there. “You know me?”
“Aye, Captain, I know you.”
“You know Vaizya Repere?”
“Aye.”
“Tell me where his quarters are. There’s a dead rat in the bay next door who wasn’t quick enough with his answers.”
“His bay is the last one on this row.”
“How many men are with him now?”
“I’m not sure, Captain, and that’s the truth. He came in with five, but they’ve been at the tappers all week.”
Kyl turned to go.
“Captain.”
Kyl stopped and turned his head in the pilot’s direction.
“You didn’t hear this from me.”
“No. I owe you, friend.”
Kyl wished he had help, someone to watch his back. He had no doubt he could take Vaizya, but it was an old Roven habit never to go alone into danger. Besides, Vaizya was different from Myg in many ways. Myg was fat and out of shape, but Vaizya kept himself in prime condition. That, combined with his utter ruthlessness and sly intellect, made him a dangerous opponent indeed. If Vaizya had even one of his crew members with him, the odds would be against Kyl. Well, it can’t be helped. He only hoped that Dina had the good sense to keep her mouth shut and not tell Vaizya that the infamous Phoenix would be coming to her rescue. As it was, surprise was his biggest ally, and a welcoming party was the last thing he needed.
Pulling his cloak over his head, he carefully scouted the last bay. As with all the others, the only entrances were the large hangar door, a service entrance in front, and a door to the rear. There were no windows, but many bays had cameras with which occupants could view the exterior of the bay. The more expensive of the bays had living quarters inside, a kitchenette, a sleeping room, and a workroom. Knowing Vaizya’s taste for the best that coin could garner, his bay would be equipped with the finest this miserable port city had to offer.
Dina could be in any of the rooms or in the ship itself. Kyl estimated that Vaizya bought Dina about ten minutes ago, meaning he’d probably had her in the bay for at least five minutes. Five minutes. It was enough time for almost anything to happen. Sweat broke out on his face as a memory of what had happened so many years ago during the Crimson Rain surfaced. Five minutes could change eternity. He paused and wiped the memory away. He could afford no distractions.
He also couldn’t afford to wait any longer and quickly decided to go in through the rear door. It was set with an alarm, but part of being a good raider was the ability to overcome such obstacles. Kyl carried the latest and most expensive technology when it came to burglarious tools. This was a rented bay, not Repere’s private property, so Kyl gambled on its wiring being out of date, and at best, functional. He was right. The back door, along with its alarm, was pitifully easy to overcome. Kyl could only hope the next step would be as easy.
As he eased into the rear entranceway, he stopped to listen for any sounds which might give away Dina’s or Vaizya’s location. It didn’t take long to hear a male and female voice raised in a heated battle of words from a room just down the hall.
Kyl smiled. Unless Dina was drugged or hit with a stun, she’d be more than a handful. With his long rupter set on the most powerful stun setting, Kyl approached the door and listened again. Dina was calling Repere every profane name she could think of, and Vaizya was threatening to drug her if she didn’t shut up. Kyl smiled again. A scream rent the air, and Kyl waited no longer.
He turned and gave the door a side kick with his heavy jackboot, and the door sprang open. As Kyl regained his balance, he whipped the rupter rifle into position. Vaizya had his back to him, apparently occupied with trying to divest Dina of her clothes.
“Kyl!” she shouted.
Vaizya froze.
“Always with your fingers in the honey pot, aren’t you, Vaiz? Just you and me now. One-on-one. Come on, this is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” Kyl was going to enjoy this. The scar on his face was courtesy of Vaizya, a present bestowed during a moment of carelessness two years earlier.
“Go on, then, Kylariz, do it. Shoot me in the back. That’s the weakling’s way, isn’t it?” Vaizya straightened to his full height, still facing away from Kyl, only his head turned to spit his words at his enemy. He was an ugly spider of a man—tall and hairy, with long gangling limbs.
“I won’t shoot you in the back, Vaiz. I want more satisfaction from you than that. You’ll die in a fair fight, but know that your cowardl
y life will end in the fires of the Void. Drop your weapons, and I’ll drop mine, and we’ll end this vendetta once and for all.”
“You’re crazy, Kylariz, if you think I’ll drop my weapons while you still have yours.”
His rupter rifle and rez gun thudding against the floor was Kyl’s only answer.
“Kyl, he’s got—”
“You are a fool.” Vaizya pivoted, dropped to his knees, and with a cry of victory leveled a small rez gun at Kyl.
Dina screamed as Kyl whipped his boot forward to launch the gun from Vaizya’s hand. “Come, Vaiz, play fair. Drop your other weapons, or I’ll finish it right now. The rez gun and the mini-rupter. Now. There’s a limit even to the patience of a Roven.”
Vaizya’s dark eyes glittered. “Fine. If you want to do it the old-fashioned way, I’ll be only too happy to accommodate you.” Vaizya’s weapons dropped carelessly to the ground like abandoned toys. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. I can taste your death on my tongue, rich and sweet. But you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you, Kylariz? You’ve no appetite, no stomach, for the taking from those weaker than yourself.”
Kyl laughed. How little Vaizya knew of him. How little they all knew. “You’re wrong, Vaiz, so wrong.”
As the volume of Kyl’s words dropped to a whisper, Vaizya’s smile fell, and he licked his dry lips.
“Come, Vaiz, you’re the one who’s scared. I can smell your fear.”
“Kyl, be careful. He’s still got a stinger on his other—”
“Shut up!” Vaizya half turned and shoved Dina away from him. She cried out and fell backward, and too late Kyl saw the hand stinger strapped to the back of the fist Vaizya raised at him in defiance. With the cry of a warrior in the throes of battle, he flexed the middle finger of his right hand and loosed a bolt of energy at Kyl. The stinger was well-named, and Kyl simultaneously winced and jerked his arm as the darts of pain dug deep into his wrist.
Seeing his opening, Vaiz struck him across the jaw with a closed fist, knocking him to the floor. Vaiz smiled and aimed the toe of his heavy boot at the area of Kyl’s abdomen just below his breastplate. The kicks were vicious and landed right on his healing bullet wound, and Kyl doubled forward in pain so excruciating they made the stinger darts by comparison no worse than a needle stick.
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