Astlin sat back in her chair and nodded somberly.
“Meanwhile,” Gid continued, “Peregrine, Cross, and the Nesshin can stay.” He jabbed a finger at Jaren and Teg. “You two are on notice. I’m the only steersman now that the devil-queen’s gone. Step one inch out of line, and the ride’s over. Got it?”
Teg cocked an eyebrow. “Zebel was here?”
“Her name’s Nakvin,” said Astlin. “She took over hell. It’s called Avalon now.”
Jaren gaped. “Nakvin’s the queen of hell? That’s even more insane than her being here!”
“She didn’t stay long,” said Gid. “From what I gather, Shaiel wants her throne.”
“I was close,” Teg interrupted. “Zebel’s her mom.”
“No,” said Jaren. “Zebel is her dad.” He answered Teg’s blank stare with a word. “Shapeshifter.”
Teg folded his arms. “Either way, she’s got no love for Vaun and a kingdom at her command. Did she leave her contact info?”
“She’s a demon,” said Gid. “Try sacrificing a chicken and burning incense.”
Teg shivered. “No chickens.”
“You just reminded me how hungry I am,” Jaren said.
“Same here,” said Teg. “Where’s the wardroom?”
Gid frowned. “Meal service is suspended till we hire a new cook.”
Astlin rose from her chair. “I’ll fix you something in the galley.”
“You sure?” asked Teg.
She nodded. “Cook was giving me lessons. It’ll take my mind off things.”
Teg stood and eagerly fell in behind her. Jaren followed.
“Looks like it’s back to the Wheel for me.” Gid sighed. “I’ll keep us on course for Temil. If there are leftovers, feel free to bring some down.”
The three newest Serapis crewmen filed from the room and into the eerily empty hallway. Teg couldn’t help comparing the giant Guild ship to the Exodus. Though it was the smaller of the two, the Serapis felt more spacious.
There was a subtler difference that took Teg a minute to pin down. Isolation wasn’t a problem aboard the Exodus, where you always felt like you were being watched. But a sense of loneliness haunted the Serapis. And an air of tragedy, like a house where a lovesick poet killed himself.
These dreary thoughts led Teg back to a question he’d meant for Astlin. “What’s it like—the other side?”
The three of them walked on for what felt like a long time, with only the rhythm of their footfalls on steel deck plates breaking the silence, before Astlin spoke.
“In some ways it’s a lot like here,” she said distantly. “You know how your dreams never make sense to anyone else?”
Mercifully vague memories of dreams aboard the Exodus came back to Teg, and he left his curiosity unsatisfied.
13
“Is the nexus-runner holding its course?” Izlaril asked from behind Xander.
Shaiel’s Blade stood at a deferential distance from the Wheel, where something unholy steered the Theophilus with Xander’s body. He felt the worn seat under him but couldn’t so much as lift a finger.
“The Zadokim senses its presence.” The voice, muffled by the mask on his face, was Xander’s. But it wasn’t he who spoke. “My wayward brother seeks asylum on Temil. He will find that not even the Shadow Caste can hide him from me.”
“As you will, lord,” Izlaril said.
Shaiel kept Xander’s eyes fixed on the starry expanse ahead. He could in fact sense the Kerioth’s nexic waves rippling through space like a death worm’s wake in sand. The reckless speed of Mirai Smith’s flight betrayed the souldancer’s fear of what pursued him.
And fear he should. Shaiel’s thoughts were icepicks plunged into Xander’s mind. I am well pleased with my new Blade. From him there is no escape.
Answering took all of the meager willpower left to Xander. You toy with the agent of a power beyond your understanding!
Shaiel’s laugh was like a steel blade sawing through ice. Your concern for my welfare is touching, Master Sykes. But I know what truly concerns you. Rest assured, she will receive my attention in due time.
Xander fought to quell his fear and wrath. Release me before Zadok punishes your meddling.
Zadok will not interfere. Is not our contest—your strength against mine—the very trial he wished to make?
You are evil given substance, Xander replied. Astlin and I bear a light that reveals your strength as a passing shadow!
Indeed, Shaiel mocked. How fares your light now?
It is not I who will defeat you.
Shaiel’s answer was a storm of mirth and rage. Who will vanquish me? Your darling bride? As the culmination of prophecy, a maudlin twit ruled by passions that alternately drive her to save and murder orphans is quite a disappointment, don’t you think?
A sudden calm quieted Xander’s anger. That passion served her well enough to best your greatest servants.
None have truly faced my greatest servants, Shaiel boasted. That is a mercy I shall soon revoke. Your trollop, the harpy of Avalon, and even my traitorous sister will cower and fall before them.
A warbling chime from the control panel announced the Theophilus’ entry into Temil space. Through the Wheel’s enhanced vision, Xander saw the third Cardinal Sphere as a bright blue dot. A dark angular speck revealed the nexus-runner’s presence.
Xander’s voice once again spoke Shaiel’s words. “We have him.”
The Theophilus gained speed, closing with its quarry.
Shaiel turned Xander’s head toward the Blade, who stood on the patchwork deck in Teg’s shabby pants, shirt, and olive coat.
“Man a gun. Disable the nexus-runner when I bring us in range.”
Izlaril melted into the Wheel pod’s shadows. Though Xander heard nothing but the high whine of overtaxed engines, he imagined Shaiel’s Blade creeping down the tube toward the drive or habitat pod turret.
Xander’s eyes faced forward again. Temil’s sea-blue orb, flecked with islands of green, filled most of his view. The black mote had resolved into the Kerioth’s three-bladed hull.
You are violating sovereign space, Xander warned the god in his head. This isn’t just fraternal sentiment. What are your true plans for Smith?
Is your banter meant to draw out my closely guarded designs? Shaiel scoffed. No need to pry when my aims are no secret. Perfected souldancers are Strata incarnate, and Smith knows the making of souldancers.
Xander’s confusion vied with his shock. Why create more souldancers? You are already free.
Is your mind so limited that I must make every connection for you? The Void must triumph; not only in the Middle Stratum, but over all.
The horrible conclusion that dawned on Xander left him fighting to stave off panic. If Shaiel made his own souldancers, perfected them, and tainted them with Void, the Strata they embodied would become extensions of his own domain.
As I said, Shaiel gloated, none can escape.
The drive pod turret opened fire on the Kerioth. The nexus-runner rolled left to evade, but Xander’s stomach clenched when two streaks of red light lanced into its stern. Dark plumes of vapor burst into space.
They must be stopped!
Again, who will stop us? Shaiel chided. You, who cannot move your least finger without my leave?
Another scarlet bolt struck the Kerioth amidships. The nexus-runner ceased evasive action and drifted toward the blue-green sphere ahead.
“She is adrift,” Shaiel sent to his Blade. “I will bring us alongside. Make ready to board the nexus-runner and retrieve her pilot.”
Xander desperately cast about for some way to keep Smith out of Shaiel’s hands. His search delved into the ether, where another shock lay in wait—a huge metal structure like a fortress hanging in the rosy mist.
That is why we saw no defenses on approach, Xander thought. Temil’s fleet is hidden in the ether!
Where they will continue to hide, Shaiel answered. The Shadow Caste ever skulk about in secret. Nothing
so mundane as a skirmish between two small ships will make them show their hand.”
The Theophilus slid up next to the Kerioth’s sharp-edged flank.
Izlaril’s deep voice came over the sending. “Ready.”
Despite the dire situation, a transcendent sense of calm returned to Xander. Shaiel barred him from exerting his will, but sometimes there was more strength in letting go.
Xander let his light blaze forth. Silver radiance filled the Wheel pod and shone through the cockpit window like a spear of white fire cutting through Temil’s night and the ether behind the sky.
The Void grasped the shaft of light and broke it like a black iron fist. Shaiel’s laughter clawed the inside of Xander’s skull.
Such a minor nuisance will not drive me out, boy. Your soul, mind, and body are mine.
Take them, Xander replied. My heart belongs to another.
The space between Temil and the two smaller ships wavered like a heat haze. A massive shape emerged from the ether—its silver hull tinted light blue by the sphere it guarded.
Xander couldn’t help admiring the elegant yet aggressive lines of the Temilian battleship’s hull; even as its gun batteries trained themselves on the Theophilus.
I am sorry, Serieigna, but better we part for a time than allow Shaiel his triumph.
The battleship gave no warning before it opened fire.
Celwen found Raig in a secluded alcove of the Sinamarg’s sunless agriculture system. She hadn’t needed her nexic second sight. The artificial grotto lit by phosphorescent fungi served as his usual retreat from the stress of command.
The admiral sat cross-legged on a rock jutting into a black pool, his eyes closed in meditation. Urgency tempered by deference prompted her to speak at a volume slightly above the pervasive echo of trickling water.
“Admiral, I must have a word with you.”
“If you must,” Raig said in a voice as cool as the moist air.
Celwen had racked her brain for the right words to say during the long walk from her quarters. Now she simply spoke her mind without flattery or guile.
“Sir, you must remove Lykaon from this ship!”
Raig’s blue-green eyes opened. The foxfire glow made them shine like gems in his lean face, and his cap of silver hair gleamed like a crown.
“I could order it,” he said. “Can you state a compelling reason why I should?”
The question caught Celwen off guard. Her already strained composure broke, and she dropped all formality.
“Velix has been euthanized,” she nearly shouted. “Even now, the wretched spawn of our mortal enemy takes his place!”
Celwen spoke truthfully. Through the nexic window in her mind she saw Liquid Sign pacing the bridge with hideous, unnatural movements.
“These are worse than insults. They are acts of war authored by Lykaon—the envoy of our supposed ally!”
Raig unfolded his legs and stood in one smooth motion. He lithely hopped down from the rock to stand before her.
“Shaiel is indeed our ally,” he said. “Expelling his Left Hand would end that alliance. Should I make a foe of the Void god in the name of old enmities?”
Celwen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What has Shaiel’s friendship brought our people but humiliation and death?”
“Shaiel has given us Mithgar,” said Raig. “Would any Night Gen prize life and limb above victory over the Guild?”
The veiled accusation fed Celwen’s shame and stoked her anger. “The Fire defeated the Guild. Should we sacrifice good men to harvest fallen fruit?”
Raig cast a furtive glance around the grotto before drawing uncomfortably close, and Celwen realized a startling truth.
He is not just toeing the line. The admiral is afraid!
Afraid of what? Shaiel’s wrath? That was the most obvious answer in light of how freely his Left Hand dealt out pain and death. Raig clearly wished to preserve the alliance with Shaiel, but Celwen suspected that his dread had a deeper source.
Raig now stood close enough to smell a trace of medicinal herbs on his breath. Despite the cool temperature, his ashen skin and black shirt were damp with sweat.
“I saw the Purges,” he whispered. “I remember the day we fled the light of the stars for unending darkness—forever, many feared. You are young, with no memory of the light. So I do not hate you for conspiring with the men who drove us into the dark.”
Celwen’s blood froze. Her body went rigid. I was so careful!
“You wonder how I know,” said Raig. “Rest assured, your benefactors’ methods hid your treason from the telepaths.”
Raig gripped Celwen’s arm, wrenching a gasp from her throat.
“Your father fought beside me in the Resistance. Did he tell you? Perhaps not. Few veterans of the Purge wish to relive our disgrace. I of course launched inquiries when he disappeared. Imagine my dismay when they all came to dead ends.”
Celwen’s voice returned, though it trembled. “My father took his own life.”
Raig shook his head. “So I believed for a time; reluctantly. Ilmin’s mention of a Gen souldancer in his report from Mithgar revived my doubts. Your exchange with Lykaon confirmed them—and ancient suspicions that enemy spies followed us into exile.”
Celwen tried to squirm out of the admiral’s grip, but he held her fast.
“So you see,” Raig continued, “Shaiel’s servants have given me more than dead officers and an empty world. That is a fair price for closure.”
Raig released Celwen. She rubbed her arm, though his firm yet gentle grip hadn’t left a bruise.
“Shaiel’s beast ordered my death,” she said. “Did you deny his bloodthirst just to indulge yours?”
“On the contrary.” Raig straightened the sleeves of his black jacket. “I intervened because you are a skilled officer, and executing the flagship’s pilot will hardly bolster our fragile morale.”
Dizzying relief soared above the morass of Celwen’s emotions. “You will not strip me of my post?”
Raig drew himself up. Looking every inch the seasoned officer he said, “One must carefully manage treacherous allies. Henceforth I am placing you on alternate duty.”
The order aroused Celwen’s suspicions. The admiral wasn’t one to mince words, but she still half-expected a permanent posting to the brig.
“A new assignment? Of what sort?”
“The Sinamarg has been rerouted to Temil,” Raig announced. “This morning their defense force shot down a vessel carrying high-ranking agents of Shaiel. Lykaon identified the Third Sphere’s rulers as the same cabal responsible for creating the souldancers.”
Celwen’s unease grew. He would not tell me this without reason.
“You are reassigned to fleet intelligence until further notice,” said Raig. “Your first mission is to ascertain the Shadow Caste’s capabilities and objectives.”
“I accept,” Celwen said. “But I make no admission of guilt.”
“You are a spy now. The Shadow Caste will kill you as such—unless you are their spy. Either way, I am spared from executing the flagship’s pilot.” Raig moved past her, his boot heels clicking on the wet stone.
“Wait!” Celwen called after him. “My father—is he still on Mithgar?”
The cavern’s echo carried Raig’s parting words. “He died over Keth five days ago.”
14
Teg sat back at a navigation console on the Serapis’ backup bridge and loudly munched on bread and cheese that Astlin had grilled but no one else had eaten. Even Gid, who’d been at the Wheel all the way to Temil, had suddenly lost his appetite.
But his shipmates’ loss was Teg’s gain. Tough stringy cheese served between slices of burnt toast was a lavish delicacy after living on bland rations.
The interim cook herself stood against the wall to the right of the Wheel, frowning sheepishly.
“Sorry guys,” she said. “I think I turned the grill up too high. I’ll do better next time.”
Teg gulped down anoth
er bitter, salty bite. “Don’t beat yourself up. This is the best I’ve had in years.”
“I don’t want to know what you fed me while I was catatonic,” said Jaren.
“Everybody shut up!” Gid snapped. “I’m getting an answer from Temil.”
Astlin rushed across the darkened room to the Wheel. Its fluorescent glow gave her a ghostly look.
“Put them on,” she said.
Gid shook his grey head, but a moment later a smooth masculine voice filled the room.
“Greetings, Serapis. You are speaking with the Temil Defense Service’s special diplomatic branch. We have received your request, and after thorough review, have opted to deny you asylum.”
“Thorough?” said Gid. “It’s only been fifteen minutes!”
“This decision is binding and cannot be appealed until our security status is reduced from high alert,” the diplomat said. “Approaching closer than lunar orbit will be considered a violation of our sovereign space, to be met with all necessary defensive measures up to and including lethal force. We apologize for any inconvenience.”
“There’s debris from my friend’s ship in your sovereign space!” Astlin argued. “My husband was on board. At least tell me what you did to him.”
Gid sighed. “They cut off the channel. We’ll be twisting in the wind till they call back.”
“Remind me to bill them for my ship when they do,” Teg said around another mouthful of charred bread and cheese.
Jaren shot him a scathing look. “Shaiel’s goons are already on our tail. How many more are coming now that Temil shot down his Blade? We need somewhere safe to hide.”
“Temil is the closest thing to safe in the Middle Stratum,” said Gid.
“I always wanted to invade a planet,” said Teg. “What better time than now?”
Gid rounded on him. “There’s at least one battleship out there, and probably more where that came from.”
“And we have a Working suppression field,” said Teg. “Let’s see them stonewall us when we turn it on and blow right past their ships.”
The Secret Kings Page 12
