The Court Of Stars (The Commonwealth Quartet Book 1)

by Malcolm Schmitz

  Miriet chuckled.

  “Is that all?” she asked. “...Well, I think you should go for it.”

  “What?” He'd expected her to disagree.

  “Well, you said yourself, an alliance could be useful. Besides... you're all wound up. Making some friends, trying to relax a little, it could be good for you.”

  She gestured with her front legs.

  “What's the worst that can happen, Christian?”

  “I lose my immortal soul.”

  “Other than that.” Miriet trilled like a bird. “It's worth a try.”

  Christian frowned. “Fine. I'll go to their... dinner. But no more.”

  He knew he was making promises he couldn't keep, but he wasn't sure what else to do. All he could do, he guessed, was walk that fine line.

  Who'd have guessed, out here in the desert, he'd be involved in more bloody politics?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun was rising over the mountains. Long shadows stretched over the endless sands, and the air already began to shimmer with heat.

  Christian was trying to prepare himself for the 'dinner' that was soon to come. It still seemed strange to him that the desert people would sleep as the sun was rising, but he understood all too well why they did. Sweat was already starting to bead under his shirt collar and behind his ears.

  Worse, water was such a priceless luxury here, that he couldn't wash his hands or face before eating. He missed the bowls of rose petals in water that the people in the Palace used to wash.

  It couldn't be helped. He tied the scarf tighter around his head, and left the tent the crew shared.

  Daniel's clan's tents were dark red, the color of a dull, pounding headache, sharp against the morning sky. Christian walked the few paces towards them, wishing he had pockets to put his hands in.

  He told himself to stay calm and to remember why he was doing this, but that didn't make his heart stop beating any faster. All he could think was that this was a bad idea, and he shouldn't have agreed to it.

  A knight, he reminded himself, doesn't run away. But he wanted to turn tail and leave, not go and, and...

  It's not a betrothal, you can leave, you don't have to do anything stupid—

  He was approaching the tents, now, walking carefully so as not to stir the sand. The camel named Fish was standing not too far away, tied to a tent stake. It was chewing its cud, and it looked unaccountably smug.

  Christian frowned at it, and pushed aside the tent flap.

  The room inside, if you could call it that, was surprisingly homely, even without most of the trappings Christian associated with home. It didn't have windows, a fireplace, or chairs. It didn't even have a table. What it did have were pillows, large and soft and colorful, even in the dim light of the tent.

  Daniel sat across from the entry. He wasn't wearing the scarf over his hair, and his blonde curls bounced as he waved at Christian.

  "I didn't expect you to come so soon," he said.

  Daniel's mother and father sat, one on each side of him. Daniel's father was a slight man with dark, thinning hair and sand-colored skin. He was barely noticeable, a shadow, compared to Daniel's mother.

  She was a giant of a woman, taller than Christian himself. Her hair was long and pearly brown. She had a scar across her cheek, white against her dark skin, and muscles larger than a man's. Christian thought she could easily bend an iron bar in half.

  Daniel's mother gave him a steady stare. If looks could kill, this one would have kneecapped him.

  She said something in Dhareg, and Daniel picked at his cuffs.

  "My mother said the food hasn't been prepared yet, and asks if you'd rather stay, or return later," he said.

  "Tell her I'll stay." Christian swallowed, heavily, and sat down on the cloth floor of the tent. Daniel's mother gave him a disapproving glower.

  "Don't-" Daniel began, and shook his head. "The pillows are there for a reason, Christian..."

  "Oh." Christian dusted himself off, and sat on one of the pillows, beside Daniel's father. He tried to imitate Daniel, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in his lap.

  "...Tell them both that it's very nice to meet them," he added.

  He felt much, much younger than his nineteen years-almost like a child again, really, too young to know what was going on or what to do. His heart raced, and he thought he must be sweating like a hog.

  Daniel passed his message over, and his mother spoke. Her voice was like a far-off stampede, a low, hoarse rumble.

  "My mother says it's nice to meet you, too." He paused, listening to her. "She asks if you and I would like to leave the tent and go for a walk, while she and Father prepare dinner."

  "That sounds... fine, to me..." Christian said, hesitantly. Was this a test? Was he supposed to help?

  "All right." Daniel stood, pulling the scarf off his belt, and wrapping it around his head. He spoke to his mother. Christian thought their conversation sounded much too long for a simple refusal. He heard his name repeated a few times, and 'sha'- that meant 'no'- but they were speaking so quickly that he could barely follow the sound, let alone the sense.

  "Let's go," Daniel finally said.

  Christian followed him outside. It almost seemed cool, because a faint breeze blew. His face was hot, and slick with sweat.

  "Your mother is terrifying," he muttered.

  "What?" Daniel tilted his head to one side, sounding puzzled.

  "She frightens me." Christian felt his cheeks growing even hotter. It wasn't manly to be frightened of a woman... even if the 'woman' in question looked as though she could punch a dragon and come out the victor.

  "She's not that scary, once you get to know her." Daniel smiled, nervously.

  Christian couldn't think of anything to say to that.

  They passed Fish, and the camel stared at Christian with its wide dark eyes. It chewed its cud with a few long, slurping noises.

  He glared at it. As they passed it, Christian felt something hot and wet fleck the back of his neck.

  "Ugh!" Christian wiped it off. It was lumpy and green, and looked like -

  Good lord.

  Fish bleated at him like a sheep, and Daniel's eyes widened in surprise.

  "Oh no," he said. "Here-"

  He took a cloth from his belt and dabbed at Christian's back.

  "I'm so sorry, he isn't usually like this-"

  Christian sighed. "It's no trouble."

  It was, of course-he was going to smell like camel vomit until he could bathe, and since they were in the middle of the desert, that could be a very long time. But since it wasn't Daniel's fault, exactly, there was no reason to blame him.

  Daniel's fingers were long and strong, and warm through the cloth.

  "Well, um... Maybe we should go back?"

  "...Let's." Christian vowed that, if he could help it, he wasn't going to walk past the camel pen again.

  He followed Daniel into the tent, and was greeted by an oily, pungent smell, which almost drowned out the smell of smoke from the back of the tent. A cauldron, as wide around as the breadth of his shoulders, sat in the middle of a circle of pillows.

  Daniel's mother spoke, her face still void of expression. Daniel gaped in surprise.

  "Um. My mother says as a guest..." he began, and snorted. He bit his lower lip. "You get to dip your bowl in first."

  "Thank her for me." Christian wasn't sure what to think of Daniel's reaction, but he bowed slightly. He was going to act as politely as though he was in court, if it killed him.

  Daniel handed him a small clay bowl, and a pointed, wooden skewer.

  "Dip your bowl in the pot. Then use the skewer to get meat and things out."

  Christian could see a number of flaws with this, but he decided not to say anything.

  He dipped his bowl in, trying to get as much broth in as he could without slopping too much over the sides or his hands. He winced as the hot broth splashed against him, and dropped the bowl.

  As he bent over the c
auldron to get his bowl back in, he flinched back, aghast. Staring back at him from the top of the broth was a glassy, dead-looking eyeball.

  He wanted to say something, but... what if that eyeball was supposed to be there? The thought disgusted him. But if it was, he shouldn't say anything. After all, that wouldn't be polite.

  Christian felt everyone else's eyes on him.

  "Can I ... step out, for a moment?"

  Daniel blinked.

  "Sure?"

  Christian's face felt hotter than the sand beneath him. He left as quickly as he could, without seeming impolite, and went towards the crew's tent.

  He heard footsteps behind him, though, and turned.

  "Wait-" It was Daniel's voice, shriller than Christian had ever heard it. "It was a joke."

  "What?"

  Daniel shook his head.

  "That wasn't a real eyeball. We don't really eat like that. And um... yes."

  Christian was dumbfounded.

  "Why?"

  "I told my mother some of the things you said to me. She wanted to know if you were as much of a..."

  His voice trailed off.

  "I don't know what the translation of that word is. And I don't know if I want to know. Anyway, um. She wanted to know if you were going to be horrible or not. And I convinced her to go easy on you, but."

  Christian's eyes widened.

  "You mean..."

  "It was all a practical joke, she wanted to see how you'd react, that's all." Daniel smiled weakly. "It was that, or her sitting outside the tent cleaning a hammer."

  Christian's mouth opened, and closed. How did one even respond to something like that?

  "...I see," he said. "....So, uh... am I..."

  "Are you?" Daniel echoed.

  "Will they be angry at me for leaving?"

  "My mother called you a 'nice young man', so I think we're going to be all right..." Daniel laughed. "Do you want to go back, or was that enough?"

  "...If you could..." Christian began, slowly. "Tell them I'm going to go... think about things?"

  Daniel nodded.

  "And, ah..." Christian continued. "Could you tell them I'd like to negotiate with them, privately?"

  "What about? If you don't mind me asking."

  "I'd... like to form a temporary alliance with the members of your caravan."

  "Haven't you already?" Daniel took a step closer to Christian. "While we're courting, you're..."

  He seemed to mull it over.

  "Our word is 'aijiara'," he said. "It means... temporary family? I think those would be the right words."

  Christian pondered this for a moment.

  "...So, ah..." he began. "If I asked your family to help me go find my sister..."

  "I'll talk to them about it. See if they're willing. But I think they will be." Daniel shifted, nervously.

  "You're not angry, are you?" he added.

  "No." That was a lie, but a polite one. After all, anger was a sin, and these people were peasants. They didn't know any better, and they hadn't been trying to challenge his honor.

  "Can I ask one more thing of you, Daniel?"

  "Sure, what is it?"

  "Never ask me to eat with your parents again." Christian felt his face grow warm.

  "Never say never..." Daniel raised his eyebrows. "...But I can promise you, we're never going to embarrass you like that again."

  "That's good enough for me. ...But I'm no longer hungry, I'm sorry."

  Daniel nodded."Fair enough. I'll go talk to them, then."

  His lips pressed together, but he said nothing.

  "Um... have a good day..."

  He walked away, slowly, but looked back at Christian, long and lingering.

  Christian tried to put that gaze out of his mind, though it haunted the edge of his thoughts. He had more important things to worry about.

  Like, he thought, the voyage that would begin at nightfall.

  Chapter Nineteen

  One Week Later

  The desert felt horribly wrong.

  It wasn't the glow of a flame on the horizon, or the deep cracks in the ground. It wasn't the tumbled rocks, lying heaped like the cast-aside toys of a young giant. It was the feeling that he'd done this before, and worse, the feeling that he was being watched.

  He chalked it up to his nervousness. The Solari weren't supposed to know they were coming. Even supposing they had a spy in the crew, there was no way they could communicate, was there? But he still couldn't avoid the nagging feeling that they were not alone.

  Christian glanced back. Daniel was still behind him, just as they'd planned. Miriet and Sara were probably still aboard the Solari craft.

  He'd wanted to go with them. Though Sara could take care of herself-he couldn't deny that-he'd thought he should be the one to enter the ship. After all, he'd escaped from the Solari once already.

  "The suit doesn't fit, Christian," Miriet had told him. "Weren't you complaining about it?"

  "Well, yes, but-"

  "It's because it's a woman's suit, Christian." Sara had been far too amused. "Big in the bust and the hips... no wonder it didn't fit you."

  Christian's face had gone red, and he'd said something about how he hadn't known. But it had been decided. Sara would wear the suit, and Miriet would accompany her.

  The plan was that Sara and Miriet would enter the ship, get magic suits for Daniel and Christian, and slip out without being discovered. Afterwards, all four of them would enter again. Sara and Miriet would head for the center of the ship, and attempt to 'hack' the ship's computers. That would send a message to the Commonwealth, somehow. Christian didn't really understand that part.

  Fortunately, he didn't have anything to do with it. His job was simple: get into the ship's hold, and together with Daniel, release the captives.

  "Is that the signal?" Daniel's voice shocked him out of his reverie.

  "No." Christian frowned at the horizon.

  "What's taking them so long?" Daniel stood close behind him.

  "The ship is vast. Larger than anything you can imagine."

  "Yes, but...."

  "If it weren't dangerous, I'd go after them myself," he said. "But the air in there is like water."

  "How can air be like water?" Daniel asked. He tilted his head to one side, like a bird.

  "It would take too long to explain."

  Christian heard the signal. Sara made the two sharp cries of a hawk, and imitated the clicking of its beak, quite well.

  He echoed the signal and moved towards the rendezvous point.

  Sara still wore the suit. It made her look like a stork, all legs and head. Miriet was a hunch in her back, and two more suits were draped over her arm. Christian thought they looked rubbery and disgusting.

  He sighed. He'd resigned himself to wearing the suit for this mission, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

  "Good news," Miriet said. Her voice was muffled. "Actually, two pieces of it."

  "What?" Daniel asked. He leaned forward, eagerly.

  "The ship was damaged in the earthquake," Sara said. She paused.

  “Yep,” Miriet said.

  "So... they can't fly away, like they did in Aviganis?” Christian let out a faint sigh of relief. They wouldn't have to use those gliders again.

  "Not just that, but their security's shot." Miriet's voice was smug. "Meaning they didn't see us coming and they won't see us leave."

  "So...we have the advantage?" Daniel asked.

  "Hardly. They've still got better weapons," Christian pointed out. "We'll need God's blessing upon us."

  Looking at the motley crew before him-the heathen who lived in the desert, the woman who lived as a man, the creature who lived in the stars, and himself, the man who lived in sin-he didn't think they'd receive it.

  "You know what to do," he said. "If any of us survive, we're to meet back in the ruins."

  Sara nodded.

  "Godspeed, Christian," she said. She turned, heading back the way she'd come.
/>   "Godspeed," he replied. He crossed himself.

  Daniel moved to stand by his side.

  "Which way?" Daniel asked.

  "The hold's at the south end of the ship." Christian frowned, trying to remember the crude diagram Miriet had drawn. He glanced at the sun, getting his bearings.

  "Get your suit on, and we'll go."

  The heat of the desert was even more intolerable with the suit on. Christian felt like he was being boiled alive. He might have been able to accustom himself to the blurred, muted colors, or to the raspy sound of the magic that let him breathe, but he'd never be able to accustom himself to the heat.

  He took the extra suit, draped it over his arm, and glanced at Daniel. The boy had managed to get the suit on, and he was untangling the breathing apparatus. He was a quick learner, Christian had to give him that.

  “Here.” Christian moved close to him, helping him connect the tubes to the suit properly.

  Daniel spoke. His voice sounded like the growling of a beast.

  "I don't like this." He put his hand to his face. "It's like a cage."

  "I know." Christian scowled. "We haven't time for complaints."

  He crouched, and began to sneak forward.

  The ship's door, true to Miriet's word, was open. He glanced from side to side, and darted inside.

  He knew he'd never get used to the winding corridors of the spaceship, either. It was like being a rabbit in a weasel's den. The walls were still that same, slick shade of white, and the lack of windows made the ship like a prison.

  Daniel began to walk down a side corridor.

  "What are you doing?" Christian snarled.

  "I heard a noise." Daniel glanced down the corridor, and started along it. “It sounds like we should look at it.”

  "Daniel, this is not-"

  "It's like... a ta'lab song."

  Christian groaned internally, but followed him.

  As they walked, he began to hear the noise Daniel had talked about. It was a high-pitched trill, like the creaking of a cicada, that shook the walls and made his ears ring.

  "We shouldn't be here," he murmured. "It feels... wrong."

  "I feel like we ought to go this way." Daniel's eyes were wide, and his voice was hushed. "It's like... a god is telling me to.”