He shook her again, until she slapped his hand away. Her bitterness welled up, to be contained no longer.
“Oh, yes, brother, you are indeed someone to depend on. You, the quickest to believe the worst! I have fought my way through the jungle to reach you, thinking I could count on your help, on your belief in me. And you have—”
“Can that,” he said, gesturing. “Do you think I am uninformed? I know about the meeting with the Omcri courier in the wineshop. I know about the betrayal of the Kublai. I was one of the searchers, Costa. I saw the camp.” His dark eyes bored into hers, alight with fury and accusation. “I know you better than anyone. I know about your violent temper and arrogance. I know how quick you are to settle a score. Oh, you are guilty, Costa. I know it, just as Janal does.”
“Janal cannot be trusted!” she cried. “His communications lines are snooped, and he—”
The strifer hummed as Duval thumbed it to full charge. He aimed it at her, his eyes very cold. “I won’t join your treason, Costa. If you came here for that, you made a big mistake. Throw down your sleeve knife.”
Slowly she obeyed, smarting to the third part. But angry and hurt as she was, she could not summon any blood-fury to help her. He was her brother, imbecile or not, and she knew she could not strike at him as she would have any other.
Still, her eyes glared a brilliant yellow, hot enough to sear their sockets, and she kicked the knife across the tiles. A pet juubjb leapt from the potted vegetation lining the courtyard to pounce on the knife and bat it away.
“Will you cut off my warrior braid now?” she asked scornfully.
He did not answer the insult, but instead gestured with his strifer. “Into the house. I have a call to make.”
“For your sled?” she asked too eagerly. Surely on the way to Beros, she could find a way to escape him. He had never been as clever as she, nor as quick.
He frowned. “I have no intention of transporting you, Costa. Security will come here.”
The door slid open as her shoulders sagged in defeat. In her heart she cursed him in the five ways. He gave her a shove, and she walked down the long, low corridor into the interior of the house. Her nostrils singled out the multitude of odors: leather, brien musk, giglan bread, raw fruit, costly perfumes, rugs woven from herendi wool, smoke from the cooking fires, someone’s boots worn too long and wet besides. And she could hear quick rustles and giggles as women fled and hid themselves in the shadows of one of the large open rooms as she passed by the entrance. Costa did not even turn her head. She just kept walking, the muscles in her stomach throbbing, her back stiff. But if she did not show her emotions, she could not control them inside. Nor could she stop thinking of how she had always entered this household as a favored guest, to be greeted in a rush of children, women and pets, with Dhurrie servants gliding forward to offer basins of scented water for the ritual cleansing of the hands and mouth, and Duval’s heavy face breaking into one of his slow grins at the melee around her. Now there was nothing but an aloof house with furtive watching and whispers, Duval’s strifer in her back like a spear of hate, and the coldness of distrust all around her.
She thought of Haufren, waiting beyond the barrier for her. Soon he would grow impatient, then alarmed. She knew he would not try to come after her. But the hunt would eventually close in on him, too.
“Here,” said Duval, touching a door activator.
Costa stared in dismay at the windowless, cluttered storeroom. There could be no escape from it. “Duval, please—”
“In.” He shoved her ruthlessly inside, sending her sprawling to her knees. The door closed, shutting her in total darkness.
She bumped painfully against something hard and sharp-cornered, jerked in a breath, and flung herself back at the door, pounding until her fists ached. Then she slid down to the floor, and huddled there in complete despair. Without Duval, there was no one to believe her, no one to take her side. In Beros, she would have no chance of defending herself against the charges. They were too neatly fitted, and far too damning. Haufren, who was the only proof she had for the truth of her story, would never come forward in her defense. He had a galaxy to defend, and she was not important enough to make him betray his presence here. For a moment she wondered why he was so set on keeping himself a secret from the authorities, then she shoved speculation away. It didn’t matter. She was doomed unless she could get away somehow, and that hope was small. Her reputation was against her. Like Duval, the patrollers who came for her would be on their guard against any move she might make.
Pulling up her knees, she rested her forehead on them. Her right arm had begun to ache with a probing finger of coldness that shot along the bone. It was time for more droxyhyazine, but she would never get it now. Soon she would stand on trial in the Hall of Accusations, or else she would die from what the Omcri had done to her. Either way, her future would be short.
The muted sounds of an argument outside her door awakened her. Costa lifted her head, wincing at her stiff neck, and scrambled to her feet as the door slid open. The light beyond it, dim as it was, blinded her for an instant. She snapped down all three inner lids and squinted against the glare with her hand held up as a shield.
“Oh, Costa, how dreadful!” A gentle, perfumed hand grasped hers and pulled her from the storeroom. “I am ashamed for my house,” said Aimlee indignantly, glaring at Duval. A tiny, fragile-looking woman with pale skin and black hair coiled elaborately about her shapely head, she was the youngest of Duval’s wives and the most favored. “I leave for half a day to visit my couiure, and this is what I find when I return! Dreadful! Duval, how could you treat her this way?”
Duval hunched his thick shoulders angrily. “She is a prisoner of the Directory.”
“Perhaps. But does that mean she must be treated cruelly?” Aimlee’s eyes flashed at him, then she turned again to Costa. “You look exhausted. And how thin you are! When did you last eat?”
Costa had to think a moment. “This morning…dawn,” she said unsteadily, rubbing her gritty eyes. “Fiber bars on the transport.” Her arm was numb, and she winced as she pulled it closer to her side. Heal! she thought angrily. Why don’t you heal?
“Fiber bars!” Aimlee snorted. “Ocean sand would do you as much good. Come upstairs with me. I’ll have the girls draw you a bath while the bread finishes baking. Then you can have a pot of thick stew and—”
“Aimlee,” said Duval as though goaded into stopping her chatter. “No. She must stay in the storeroom. The shuttles will be here in an hour, and she must be given no chance to escape before then.”
Something closed in Aimlee’s delicate face. For an instant she came perilously near to expressing contempt as she gazed up at her husband. “Escape? Escape? Do you expect her to throw herself from one of the upper windows? Do you expect her to hold one of the children at knifepoint? Moii, husband! You speak of her as though she is some dirty Ishut that cannot comprehend what is civilized. Do you forget so easily that she remains your officer and as such deserves your respect? You have denied her the giving of her word of submission while she stands within our walls by taking away her sleeve knife. This is surely insult enough without locking her away as well.”
“Aimlee.”
“Why don’t you cut off her warrior’s braid?” continued Aimlee defiantly. “You treat her already as one tried and sentenced. And to put her in a dark room! That is wicked, Duval. You—”
“Woman!” The angry glint in his eyes silenced her, and scarlet-faced, she gave a slight bow of submission.
A taut silence fell over them. In the distance a child screamed with laughter.
Duval cleared his throat, glowered at his wife, and let his eyes flick briefly, uncomfortably to Costa, then away. “Very well. She may eat. But that is all, and then she must go back into the storeroom.”
Aimlee brightened. “I shall prepare a tray,” she said, picking up the train of her house robe, and hurrying away on quick, soundless feet.
Costa stepp
ed away to put her back against the cool stone wall of the corridor. She felt fuzzy and confused without the drug’s support, and now was when she needed her wits to be their sharpest. An hour, Duval had said. So little time!
His sigh broke her racing thoughts. “I have spoken to Janal on the viewer. He feels that you—”
“Oi! Oi! Father, guess what we have seen!”
Two children, a boy and girl of similar ages and coloring, came running up. Their eyes glowed with an excitement so intense they forgot all about pausing to approach Duval with respect.
“Father!”
Duval threw out both hands. “What is this wild behavior?” he asked sternly. “Can you not see there are warriors before you and not a pair of housewomen?”
They stopped, their eager faces falling with dismay.
“Costa,” said the girl with a shy smile, but her brother turned red and would not meet Costa’s eyes.
“We seek forgiveness,” he said stiffly, lifting his palm to his father and nudged his sister in the ribs until she did the same.
“Very well,” said Duval, relenting. “Run along to your suppers.”
“But, Father, we saw Omcris!”
“What?” Costa straightened from the wall, snapping to alertness. “Where, Mia? How many?”
“On the road, the cliff road,” said the girl. “Three of them, in long blue robes. Father, I thought they always wore black.”
Alarm shot through Costa. Were they here for her, or were they searching for the Kublai? “Black means only that they are under hire,” she said slowly. She and Duval exchanged worried looks, momentarily a team again.
“Heading which way, Ro?” asked Duval. “Toward us?”
“No. Toward the big hill.”
“The Nogales villa,” said Costa. She blinked, suddenly putting many things together. “He took the Kublai. Of course! Nogales was behind this!”
“You aren’t making sense,” snapped Duval.
“Of course I am! Listen to me. Don’t you remember those reports from the safety board? Nogales has had several infractions recently, ever since we were first informed that the Kublai was coming here on a religious pilgrimage.”
“Costa—”
“Listen!” She gripped his arm and shook it. “That has to be it. His Ishut workers were nearly uncontrollable. He has been in danger of losing his licensing from the board. Of course he did it. Nogales is bold and ruthless enough.” She snorted. “And Haufren and I were looking everywhere but right in front of us.”
“Haufren! Who…oh. The Ranger.”
“Yes. The Ranger. He’s on the island. Maybe he saw the Omcris, too. Duval, we’ve got to go up there!”
“No.” Duval caught her arm before she could stride away. “Children, dismissed.”
They blinked and reluctantly scampered away.
Costa pulled free. “Duval—”
“No, I tell you! This is nonsense. Wob Nogales is a leading citizen. How can you dare to accuse him of this? You’re insane!”
“But, Duval, it makes so much sense! The Omcri in the wineshop was—”
“Yes, that Omcri in the wineshop who bribed you,” said Duval bitterly. “You are a fool to try and make me believe Nogales is the traitor instead of you.”
“But I did not betray—”
“Do you realize you are the only survivor of that massacre? Do you know how that looks?”
“Of course I know,” she said impatiently. “I’m not a fool. But neither did I escape that attack untouched. Look.”
She pulled up her torn sleeve to show him her arm. The flesh of the inside of her forearm was puffed and blackened so severely her own heart jerked in dismay. Duval stared at her, aghast.
“What kind of a wound is that?”
“Omcri poison.”
“But you…when did it happen? Earlier today?”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Oh, how well you believe in my recuperative abilities! No, this is a gift from the courier I spoke to in the wineshop.” She yanked down her sleeve. “Now you see how I escaped. Oh, yes, Duval, I could have taken the bribe offered. I could have been far away when the attack came. I could have been off-planet with a new identity and plenty of wealth. But I stayed. I betrayed no one. And I was marked for it.”
“But you didn’t warn Janal,” he said slowly, frowning.
“I tried to! His line was snooped. And then suddenly I was under accusation with orders to turn myself in. I couldn’t go back to Beros, Duval. I wouldn’t have been permitted within a kilometer of Janal. Haufren said—”
“I hear something. Come.” He strode down the corridor and into one of the open rooms furnished with hand-woven rugs and leather sitting cushions. Diagonal slats closed the window. He pulled these aside and peered out into the darkness. “Thought I heard a shuttle approach.”
Her heart sank. “Duval, you can’t turn me over to them! Not yet. If we can get the Kublai back, I’ll gladly stand before a tribunal. But I have to help Haufren stop these—”
“The Ranger isn’t here,” said Duval.
“What?”
“He was captured hours ago. Puce took him in on a sled. Only there’s been no report of them. When I called into Beros, Central said they were overdue.” Duval stalked over to her, his dark eyes angry. “If that moon-skipper has unloaded Puce in the jungle, I’ll hold you to blame for it. You should have brought him in at the first.”
“Bring in a Ranger against his will?” she said scornfully to hide her sick sense of defeat. What if Haufren had killed Puce? Oh, Moii spit upon his grave if he had! Puce was the only man she knew who had survived an Omcri assassination attempt. She had counted on him to save her from the poison rather than Haufren’s promises of help from the Ranger laboratories. “How good do you think I am? Duval, please. We have to go to Nogales’ villa now. Haufren explained to me that the Omcris are preparing for an invasion of the galaxy. Somehow Playworld is the focal point. I don’t understand why. Maybe it’s the Kanta cult or something else, but they have to be stopped! They’re taking over people.” She lifted her arm. “I’ve been infected. Droxyhyazine combats the poison, but without it I may be summoned by them at any moment. Duval—”
He turned away as though she had not been speaking at all. “That was a shuttle. It’s landing on the roof pad.”
Costa frowned, only now hearing the whine outside. She shook her head in bafflement, unable to understand why she had heard nothing before. Her hearing was three times as keen as Duval’s.
He started to walk out of the room, but swiftly she planted herself in his way.
“Moii take you, I am your sister, Duval!” she shouted in a panic. “Have I no claim upon blood—”
“You will lose your tongue unless you curb it,” he said savagely. “When you cut off your warrior’s braid and exchange your knife for a ladle, I shall surrender to blood claim for your protection. Until then, Costa, you are an officer of the patrol and you must take full responsibility for the charges against you. My duty is to surrender you, and I intend to do it.”
“Duval!” she cried in a fury that suddenly changed to fear as her muscles jerked in a violent spasm. She staggered, nearly fell, and righted herself only by clutching at a table which skidded upon the floor under her weight. Her arm was throbbing, swelling, bursting. Yet when she clutched at it, there was only withered flesh and bone crushed inside her fingers. Coldness pierced her chest just under the heart. She screamed with a shrillness that made her own ears ring and staggered to one side as Duval tried to grab her.
“By the ten mercies!” cried Aimlee, freezing in the doorway, a steaming tray in her hands.
Costa whirled, feeling as though every movement was dragged through clinging mud, and started toward her. Duval’s powerful hand seized her shoulder, crushing it, but she scarcely felt the pain as she flung back her arm and knocked him away with a strength far greater than she should possess. He sprawled to the floor, grunting, and Costa found the body she no longer controlled hu
rtling her toward the doorway and Aimlee.
She screamed a warning, trying to stop herself and failing. Aimlee stared at her in disbelief, frozen and heeding nothing until it was too late. Horror spread across her delicate face, and she opened her mouth to scream as Costa knocked her aside. The tray flew through the air, spilling food and pungent-smelling wine in a bright arc. Costa kept going, faster and faster, unable to stop, unable to combat the force which had possessed her so suddenly.
At the end of the corridor she saw the door solidly barring her way.
“Costa?” Mia darted toward her from one of the rooms, then screamed over and over again in hysterical bursts of sound as Costa ran past her.
Costa plowed right into the door and bounced off with force enough to send her sprawling. Again she felt pain only dimly as she forced herself up and yanked open the panel to the security controls. It took mere seconds to bypass the obedience code that kept the door from responding to her command. She saw her strifer stuffed into a cubbyhole above the control board and pulled it out, tossing away the holster and belt and thumbing the weapon to full charge.
It hummed in her hand as the door slid open, and then she was outside in the rain-slashed darkness, moving in a crouching run across the courtyard. A shape came at her. She fired, and the screaming juubjb writhed at her feet. Without looking at the dying pet, she ran on even as that tiny corner of her which was still cognizant cried out in horror at what she had done.
“That’s her!”
A torch snapped on, stabbing through the darkness to illuminate her like an insect pinned to a wall. She whirled and fired toward the torch, letting her strifer sweep that section of the courtyard. A man shouted in pain, and she ran on, ducking through the cultivated plants as someone fired back.
“Take her alive, you fool!”
Panting, Costa squinted against the rain stinging her face. She no longer tried to combat the force in control of her. Her will was blending with it. For she had to get out and she had to get out now before they boxed her in.
The Omcri Matrix Page 12
