The Last Hawk

by Catherine Asaro

  Kelric sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. The guard blinked at him, then turned to Hacha. "If anyone finds out I let you in here I'll be in more trouble than a fly in a vat of hot wax."

  "I won't stay long," Hacha said.

  The guard muttered under her breath. But she opened the door and withdrew down the hall, leaving Hacha alone with Kelric.

  The captain came into the cell. "Rev and Balv ask that I give you a message."

  "Yes?" Kelric asked.

  "They thank you for their lives." Quietly she added, "As I do for mine."

  He wasn't sure what he had expected from the captain, but this wasn't it. "Are they all right?"

  "Yes. They're both out of the Med House now." She sat on the other end of the cot. "Kelric, I don't understand you. I doubt I ever will. But I know what happened out there. The only thing preventing you from reaching the starport was the four of us. To escape Coba, all you had to do was let us die."

  He spoke quietly. "In the past, I've wondered what I would do if l ever faced such a choice. I always assumed I would save myself." With an edge of bitterness, he added, "I was wrong. Now I'm going to die for it."

  She regarded him. "There is a phrase. Chabiat k'in. It comes from an ancient language, older even than Old Script. The literal translation is 'the day is guarded, watched over.' But it is more than that. It is a spiritual thing, a guarding of life. My ancestors used it to mean the life a warrior gives by offering her own to save others." Lamplight flickered on her face. "There is that between us now."

  The guard appeared in the doorway. "We've done with changing shifts, Capt'n. You got to leave or I'm in trouble."

  Hacha stood and spoke in a low voice. "I won't forget, Kelric."

  Then she was gone and the door clanged shut.

  * * *

  Fatigue creased the Elder's face as she stood, looking out at the courtroom. "We are met today to issue a decision in the case of Sevtar Dahl."

  Chankah sat with Corb, her hands clenched in her lap. A tense silence filled the hall.

  The Elder continued. "It is true that Sevtar's actions led to Manager Dahl's injuries. However, he is responsible for neither her heart condition nor her decisions. We thus bring no charges against him for any calamity that results from that illness."

  - "No!" Yeva Dahl stood up. Two guards moved away from the wall and started toward her. She looked from one to the other, her face flushed. Then she sat down.

  The Elder waited until the murmurs among the witnesses quieted. Then she said, "We may never fully understand Sevtar's abilities. We lack the background to determine whether or not he misused them. For our decision in the matter of Llaach's death, we must rely on the testimony we have heard about Sevtar's character and our judgment of the statement he made to this Bench."

  When the Elder paused, Chankah could almost feel every person in the room leaning forward to hear her words.

  "It is our conclusion," the Elder said, "that the accused did not intend to kill Llaach Dahl. We therefore rule her death as accidental manslaughter."

  So, Chankah thought. The penalty for manslaughter varied, but the maximum sentence was a lengthy prison term She was surprised how much it relieved her to know that Kelric would live.

  "In deciding sentence for this case," the Elder continued, "we are faced with an unprecedented situation. If Sevtar ever escapes—no, if Kelricson Garlin Valdoria, third heir to the military rule of Imperial Skolia ever escapes, all Coba will suffer the consequences." She spoke in a strained voice. "We have no wish to pass sentence on a Calani. Nor do we desire to revive punitive measures unused for centuries. And it is clear the accused is a man of good character." She sounded as if she were struggling under a weight. "But against our desire for leniency we must weigh the safety of our world."

  Her final words fell into the air. "The Dahl Bench therefore sentences Sevtar Dahl to execution by honed discus, to be carried out on Halften, at Night's First Hour."

  9

  Queen's Arch

  Ixpar walked along the sunhall, soaking in the sunlight that poured through its many windows. An arched door swung open farther down the hall, making a pleasing shape. Then it closed, leaving Jahlt Karn behind in the hall.

  "Ixpar." The Minister waited for her. "I was looking for you." She came alongside Jahlt. "I just finished my physics tutorial."

  The Minister walked with her. "Avtac Varz is coming to visit."

  Ixpar thought of the Varz Manager; a steel—gray woman who knew her power well and pitted it against Karn often. "Why?"

  "A good question. If you ask Avtac, she will say she comes to discuss mining rights on the Miesa Plateau." Jahlt snorted. "The real reason she comes is to make trouble. As usual."

  Ixpar almost smiled, wondering if the Varz Manager said the same thing to her staff when Jahlt visited Varz. "Is she bringing her successor?"

  "Yes, Stahna comes. Manager Varz has suggested you and Stahna exchange Quis."

  "They know I've never played Council Quis before."

  "They also know Stahna has twice your age and experience." Jahlt paused. "There will be no loss of honor if you decline."

  And back down to Varz? "I'll play."

  Jahlt gave her a look of approval. "Avtac has no idea of your gift with the Quis. You will dice spirals around Stahna."

  Ixpar didn't know about that, but she intended to spend all her free time in preparation. "Tev will be impressed."

  "Tev?"

  "He's in my mathematics tutorial."

  "Ah. He." Jahlt smiled. "Tell me about him."

  Ixpar warmed to the subject of Tev. "He's beautiful. His eyes are brown. Like hazelle eyes. They almost look gold when the light hits them right."

  Jahlt's smile vanished. "I thought you left that behind."

  "Left what behind?"

  "The Skolian."

  Ixpar stiffened, and silence accompanied them for the rest of their walk.

  An Estate aide was waiting in the antechamber at the end of the sunhall. She bowed to the Minister. "A construction forewoman is here to see you, ma'am. Something about a contract for her crew."

  "All right." Jahlt turned to Ixpar. "The file on the Miesa mining treaties is in my desk. You should read it before Avtac arrives."

  Ixpar went on alone to Jahlt's office, a corner room filled with sunshine. Armchairs upholstered in fine old leather stood on the rugs and bookshelves lined the walls. The top drawer of the desk contained a clutter of quills. two ink bottles, and a pendulum watch. The Miesa file lay tucked into a corner.

  As Ixpar took the file, the door opened. She turned to see an aide enter the room.

  The woman bowed. "Successor Karn." She gave Ixpar a letter. "A rider delivered this at dawn. The pilot said it was urgent, to be opened by you only."

  Curious, Ixpar turned the envelope over. The gilt stamp of the Dahl suntree emblem gleamed in one corner. Who in Dahl would send her a secret communication? Kelric? The instant the aide left, Ixpar tore open the letter.

  The message was from Captain Hacha.

  Jahlt opened the door of her office and found Ixpar staring at her from the center of the room. The girl held a crumpled paper clenched in her fist.

  "It's a lie," Ixpar said.

  Jahlt frowned. "What?"

  "A lie." Ixpar's usually vibrant voice was flat with fury.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Have they killed him yet? Murdered him fol the good of Coba?"

  So. Ixpar knew. Whoever caused this trouble would soon regret it "Who were you talking to?"

  "No one The Miesa file wasn't in your desk so I looked for it. I found this." Ixpar raised her fist with the paper. "Why didn't you tell me about the Tribunal? I should have testified."

  Jahlt closed the door. "You must accept that Kelric is gone."

  "No! You can't let them execute him tonight. It's wrong."

  Jahlt went over and pried the paper out of her fist It was the letter Chankah had sent after the Tribunal. "Let
those with the necessary experience decide his guilt or innocence."

  "I know him. Better than any of you."

  Jahlt laid a hand on her shoulder. "You see only what you want to see. The handsome prince in need. of a protector. It isn't reality. it doesn't even come close."

  Ixpar shrugged off her hand. "What happened to your words about justice; How can I believe you when you don't follow them yourself?"

  Jahlt motioned to a dice table by the window. "Sit down." She would engage Ixpar in a Quis session. The evolving structures would tell the story of the Imperialate, revealing far better than words what it would mean for Coba to become an occupied world.

  After they were seated-they rolled out their dice. Jahlt set an orb in the center of the table. A gold orb, for Kelric. She watched Ixpar, waiting to see how the girl responded.

  Jahlt knew Ixpar would try to convince her, through the dice, that they should let Kelric live. But Ixpar had never faced the full power of her mentor's Quis. It was no coincidence Jahlt ruled Karn: none could hold their own against the unmitigated force of her dice, especially not a child. She had hoped to spare the girl the blistering pressure of such a session. But Ixpar was coming of age and it was time she learned the ways of power. She had lived her entire life in freedom and was too young to comprehend from her history lessons what it meant to be subjugated by conquerors. Caught in her infatuation, she refused to see the danger Kelric posed.

  It was time the girl faced reality. Then she would understand why Kelric had to die.

  Still breathless from running, the aide leaned on the table in Chankah's suite. "The message came over the air tower com. The rider must have broken every known speed record."

  Chankah forgot the dinner she hadn't been able to eat anyway and left with the aide. They strode through the city, tall figures passing through the falling dusk, and reached the_airfield in time to see a windrider descending in a glare of lights, buffeted by angry winds. The craft bore the Karn symbol: a giant althawk with its wings spread in soaring flight.

  As soon as the rider landed, the hatch swung open—and the Minister of Coba stepped out into the night.

  Leaning against the wind, Chankah crossed the tarmac. She bowed to Jahlt. "You honor my Estate."

  Shadows hooded Jahlt's face. "The execution. Is it done?"

  "No. In an hour."

  The Minister said, "I want to see him first."

  Kelric heard the prison door clang open. Boots sounded on stone in the hall outside his cell. He stood up and gazed out the high window of his cell, at the stars that gleamed between the bars. Good-bye, he thought. Then he turned to face his executioners.

  Chankah was coming down the hall with an octet of guards. An unfamiliar woman accompanied them, a tall and gaunt figure in black trousers and jacket.

  After a guard unlocked the cell door, the gaunt woman turned to the others. "Leave us."

  Chankah started to speak. "It's not safe—"

  "Leave us," the woman repeated. Under the force of her stare they all retreated down the hall and out the door at its end, leaving the gaunt woman alone with Kelric.

  "So." She walked into his cell. "You are Prince Kelricson."

  It unsettled Kelric to hear his title in Coban. "Yes."

  "I am Minister Karn."

  Gods. Had they all come to see him die? "Is Ixpar with you?"

  "Ixpar is not your concern."

  "If she came—I don't want her to see the execution."

  "You have contaminated her mind enough. I have no intention of letting you do so further."

  "You came alone to witness it?"

  "No." Jahlt regarded him with night—black eyes. "I came alone to meet the man who so affected my successor that she convinced me to grant him a stay of execution."

  At first the words made no sense. He heard them but they were only sounds. Slowly they filtered into his mind and lodged there with a spark of hope. "A stay?"

  "I stopped the execution," Jahlt said. "Your sentence is now a life term in the Haka prison."

  10

  Ruby Wedges

  Set in motion by the wind, the desert rolled in from the horizon like an ocean of sand and broke in red waves against the Teotec Mountains. As the rider descended, Haka materialized out of the sandstorm, spread out on the desert floor and climbing into the Teotecs. Towers the hues of a pale sunset were carved out of the cliffs, with windows like square eyes. When the rider glided past them, Kelric could see people staring out at it.

  He turned away and looked around the cabin. His guards filled eight of the seats, but they weren't who his gaze sought. Deha sat behind the pilot, with Chankah at her side. She was staring out the window, her face pensive.

  The rider skimmed into the whirling sand and landed at the airfield. Deha disembarked first, followed by Chankah, both of them pulling their jacket hoods tight in protection against the blowing sand. Then the Dahl guards brought out Kelric.

  An octet of Haka guards waited on the tarmac, eight giants in yellow uniforms and dusty boots, dark skinned and dark eyed, each with a tasseled scarf wrapped around her head as protection from the blowing sand. In addition to the usual stunners, they also carried daggers with blades as long as a forearm.

  As the Haka guards closed around Kelric, Deha came over to him. Although it was impossible to hear her in the keening wind, he understood the words her lips formed: Good-bye, my my husband.

  Softly, Kelric said, "Good—bye, my wife."

  .Then the guards took him away, into the sandstorm.

  Mountains rose from the desert in huge steps, dominating land and sky. At their feet, lesser peaks alternated with stretches of desert like rocks on a treacherous shoreline. Wind whipped the sand into plumes that sprayed against the crags.

  Surrounded by guards, Kelric walked numbly, uncaring of the sand that scratched under his clothes, his hair, his armbands and manacles. A lifetime sentence, with no chance of parole. At least one ray of light eased his gloom: Deha was recovering. It meant more to him than he knew how to express, and it also gave him the illogical hope that lie might find a way to escape this mess.

  They took him to a small peak jutting up from the desert. A metal door in it opened into a tunnel with iron—gray walls. They followed the passage to a huge cavern partitioned into cubicles, with a ceiling so high it hid in shadow.

  The guards took him to a cubicle where a clerk waited at a podium. "Sevtar Dahl?" she asked.

  "That's right," the captain said. She pulled down the tasseled scarf that had protected her face in the sandstorm. "He's to go to Compound Four."

  "Any valuables?" the clerk asked.

  "Armbands," the captain said. "Ankle and wrist guards, too, but they're welded on."

  "He's a Calani?" The clerk stared at Kelric, then remembered herself and looked at the captain. "He better leave the armbands here."

  Kelric held up his wrists. After a guard removed his manacles, he gave his armbands to the clerk. She gently set them on her podium, then pulled out a gray uniform.

  The captain took the uniform and turned to Kelric. "Take off your clothes."

  He stood, looking at the guards. They just looked back. So. No privacy. Gritting his teeth, he undressed. The clerk and several guards averted their gaze, but the rest of the group watched. When he was done, he waited, sweat evaporating off his bare skin in the dry air.

  The captain motioned to-him. "Turn around and put your hands against the wall."

  Kelric stared at her. Why a search? When he paused, balking, the guards dropped their hands to their dagger—swords. So he turned to the wall and put his palms against it. He didn't like what it said about the prison administration, that a guard could take such actions, apparently with no fear of reprisal.

  The captain, a woman about his height, stood behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. As she rubbed his skin with her fingertips, she murmured "The gold really doesn't come off." She slid her hands down his back to his hips, speaking next to his ear in a low voice
only he could overhear. "So this is how a Calani feels," Stroking his hips, she added, "What a waste, to put you in prison."

  Clenching his teeth, Kelric said nothing, just stared at the wall, trying to imagine himself elsewhere. Anywhere else.

  The captain spent a long time with her search, as if she could actually find something on bare skin. But finally she gave him the uniform and let him dress.

  They led him back through the cavern to a new tunnel. After various turns and twists, it exited into the sandstorm. A clearing surrounded by crags stretched before them. Several buildings stood in its center, partially obscured by blowing sand; beyond them, mountains rose into the sky.

  The guards took him to the fourth building. Inside, they followed a hall that ended at a massive portal. Opening it revealed a second portal. Only after they ushered him into the room between the doors and locked the first did they open the second. It was like going through a huge airlock.

  The second door opened onto a hall lined with wide archways, with drifts of sand piled against the walls. The captain led him to the third cell. "This is it. Home."

  Home? For the rest of his life? After the guards left, Kelric walked into the cell, a sandstone room about ten paces wide. A blanket lay on a pallet and sunlight slanted past the bars of a skylight in the ceiling. He went back into the hall. The rooms new the airlock showed signs of occupation: a shirt on a pallet, a dice pouch In the sand a clay pot in a comer.

  A large man with shoulder-length black curls and a thick beard appeared in the archway of a cell "Got a bone for slithering snakes, heh, crooner?"

  "What?" Kelric said.

  "This one's slow in the upper level, heh? And the hum says he's Calani." The man laughed. "Croon away, boy. Croon away." He came forward until his nose was a handspan from Kelric's face. "Your skin offends me."

  "That's your problem," Kelric said.

  "Think you're bigger than the wind, heh, boy?" The man snorted, deliberately turned his back, and walked away.