Utopia, the ancients had called it.
"Eos," she said to Ronan as they looked down upon the city from the spaceport tower. "City of the Dawn, the place where humans first awoke from the Long Silence."
Any man might be silenced by awe at such a sight. Eos was as different from Elsinore as Dharma's largest city was from a Siroccan camp. Here the baroque scrollwork, gilded carvings, and velvet hangings gave way to the clean, simple lines of bleached columns that rose many stories to sculpted pediments, and even the meanest dwellings were in perfect harmony with their neighbors.
No narrow, stinking alleys marred the nobility of its streets, nor did gates exclude those of lesser wealth from the rich and mighty. Elsinore had its ground cabs for the rich, but here the privileged flew skimmers above the earthbound traffic and resided in apartments that seemed fit homes for mythic angels.
At the center stood Eos's Acropolis and the Archon's palace with its hanging gardens and obelisk piercing the sky. Beyond the river were the estates of the nobles, and then the countryside with its farms preserved as a reminder of a former way of life.
"My Uncle Jesper was born in this city," Cynara said. "I'm sometimes amazed that he chose to settle on such a provincial world as Dharma."
Ronan didn't so much as glance in her direction. She had released him from his cabin during their final approach to the system, but he had maintained this same stony silence.
She knew the reason. She'd forced him to swear an oath to keep out of her mind as if there had never been any trust between them, let alone the intimacy of that night on Dharma.
A hundred times she had considered various apologies and dismissed every one. She had done what she must to protect the ship. When—if—Ronan realized what was at stake, he would understand why she had acted as she did.
When. Let there come such a time, and a chance to tear down the walls. Let her testimony balance that of Ser Phineas Janek, who was already on his way to present his case to the High Command at Naval Headquarters.
"You have nothing to fear, Ronan," she said awkwardly, gripping the guard rail until her knuckles ached. "Dharma's ways are primitive in comparison to Persephone's. Your mind won't be at risk here, I promise you."
"Will you be present when they question me?" he asked.
The sound of his voice was a gift, fertile land and fresh water to a sailor lost on the sea. "I intend to be. I didn't expect Lord Miklos to agree to see us so quickly. Apparently Uncle Jesper wasn't overestimating his friendship with the Archon's brother."
"You trust these friends of Va Jesper."
"Law is sacred on Persephone, even among its rulers. You won't be assumed guilty—" She broke off, staring out at the city.
"Will I see this Archon, who rules so much of human space?"
"The Archon is a very busy man. Lord Miklos can provide what we need as long as we convince him that—" What? That Ronan could become the valuable asset she wanted to believe he could be, that her virtual theft of the Pegasus had been necessary, that she was still competent to captain the Alliance's most precious treasure… that she had not risked everything for the sake of a single man?
"Captain D'Accorso?"
She turned from the rail as a dark-suited man and woman approached from the tower kiosk. Ronan shifted into his subtle warrior's stance, moving closer to her. She thought briefly of the sidearm she'd left aboard the Pegasus.
"I am Cynara D'Accorso," she said.
"I am Gajda, and this is Mains, at your service, my lady," the man said. "Lord Miklos sent us to escort you to his offices at the palace."
Lord Miklos's people. She had been expecting a personal escort from the spaceport, though the Lord's secretary had not provided details on transportation. The captain of the Pegasus was not required to wade through the numerous levels of complex Persephonean bureaucracy. The knowledge she carried was far too valuable… and dangerous.
But it was entirely possible that she and Ronan were under arrest. These two in their dark suits were hardly common messengers. She suspected they were of Miklos's personal guard, or perhaps even from the Archon's legendary Royal Intelligence.
And if they were under arrest, then Janek had already done his work. Adumbe had promised to send immediate word if the Pegasus was boarded by Persephonean authorities, and she had prepared for that as well. There was little more she could do.
"This is Ser Ronan?" Gajda asked.
"I also speak," Ronan said, so dryly that Cynara almost suspected him of humor. "You are Va Miklos's ve'laik'i."
"Warriors," Cynara translated. "Are we guests or prisoners, Ser Gajda?"
"Guests, Captain. Lord Miklos wishes your visit to be free of any inconvenience."
Indeed. She tugged the hem of her formal tunic and nodded. "We're ready."
Gajda stared at Ronan with a cool, measuring gaze and gestured Cynara to precede him. Ronan hung back, but Mains was careful to keep behind him. Cynara knew they were armed and wouldn't hesitate to stun Ronan if he made the slightest hostile move.
She kept half her attention on him and half on the agents as the four of them took the lift to the tower lobby and walked out to the skimmer parked in an area cleared of all other traffic. Mains got in front with the driver, and Gajda sat in the wide rear seat between Ronan and Cynara. Even without benefit of sharing Ronan's thoughts, Cynara felt his tension.
Why should he trust them any more than he had the Dharmans? He might even suspect that Cynara had transported him from one predicament to another even worse.
There is no other way. If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear. Yet she found no solace in the thought, or in the alien blankness of Ronan's face.
The skimmer lifted above the pavement, leaving its common terrestrial brethren far below. Deftly its pilot settled into a course that carried his passengers past the outskirts of Eos and into the city's brilliant center.
Cynara hardly noticed the stunning view. She was grateful when the skimmer landed on a pad on the palace grounds, letting her escape the oppressive confinement.
The first security check waited at the edge of the pad, and it was only one of many. Uniformed personnel very thoroughly scanned Cynara and Ronan, always accompanied by Gajda and Mains. Ronan was cooperative, almost passive, allowing the guards to touch him in a way he must hate. Cynara had no opportunity to offer a word or touch of encouragement, and wasn't sure he would accept either.
The palace interior was spare of decoration and yet handsome, walls subtly textured and punctuated with murals rendered in a deceptively simple style. Men and women, palace staff and clerks and bureaucrats in efficient garments, went about their business without a glance at the visitors. Endless corridors, more security checks, and finally admission to the outer chambers of that portion of the palace assigned to the younger brother of the Archon of Persephone.
Guards stood at every doorway, each one doubtless armed with some compact and highly efficient Persephonean weapon. Pompous though the burgher-lords of Elsinore might be, their security measures were pitiful by comparison. This was true power.
But Cynara was still captain of the Pegasus. When it appeared that their escorts would attempt to separate her and Ronan, she stood firm and refused. Ronan did the same.
Gajda and Mains chose not to force the issue, but showed them to a private sitting room painted in muted sea colors that could only have been chosen by someone who believed the ocean was peaceful.
They waited. No word came from Adumbe, though the guards had actually permitted her to keep her comlink. They could jam the signal easily enough if they chose. Ronan was a statue, hardly blinking. Cynara struggled with a dangerous desire to charge Gajda and demand to speak to someone in authority.
Such drastic action proved unnecessary. The door opened, and a woman in a conservative suit spoke briefly to Lord Miklos's people. They waved Cynara and Ronan through and into yet another room, larger than the first but still clearly an antechamber complete with a reception desk and potted pl
ants. Cynara felt a buzz in her skull, and then the agents led them to another door.
Everything changed. On the other side was a room unlike the others, warm in tone and clearly designed for occupation by a person with a desire for comfort rather than consequence. Deeply padded chairs invited long talks, and the walls held shelf after shelf of old-style books.
The guards took up positions to either side of the room. Before Cynara could complete her internal debate as to whether or not to avail herself of one of the chairs, a wood-paneled door opened and a man stepped through.
She knew at once that it was Lord Miklos. The Challinor family was said to be extraordinarily attractive as well as gifted and much beloved by the Persephonean people, but she had seen the Archon and his family only at a distance. Those men and women she had dealt with during her briefings and layovers on Persephone had been less exalted lords, officials, and naval commanders assigned to the Pegasus Project.
None of those previous meetings could have prepared her for Lord Miklos Challinor. He was of middle years but still handsome, dressed in gray tunic and trousers with only a touch of braid to indicate his rank. She sensed immediately what Uncle Jesper had loved in this man, and why he was so confident of his royal connection.
Lord Miklos glanced from her to Ronan with keen interest, but it was Ronan's face that caught him. He stared, and Ronan's muscles tightened in a way Cynara had learned to recognize as portending trouble. If he'd possessed shaauri fur, it would have stood on end.
"Lord Miklos," Cynara said quickly, "I thank you for agreeing to see us. It is a great honor."
Blue eyes met hers with a trace of humor. "Captain D'Accorso," he said, his voice deep and warm. "Ronan VelKalevi. I am Miklos Challinor." He smiled at them both. "Please be seated. What would you care to drink?"
Cynara edged closer to Ronan. "Nothing, my lord."
"I understand." He glanced from Ronan to the guards. "I believe your friend regards me as an enemy."
His bluntness surprised her, but it did not seem out of his character. She couldn't help but like him. "Ronan has been through a great deal," she said. "I don't think he knows who to trust." Including myself.
Lord Miklos gestured to his men, who hesitated a moment and then left through the front entrance. No doubt they would be waiting just outside, easily summoned by a hidden buzzer.
"We are quite alone," he said, addressing both Cynara and Ronan. "No one outside this room will hear us. Now, sit."
Cynara took the nearest seat, with a direct look urging Ronan to do the same. He obeyed with obvious reluctance. His muscles were bunched to launch him from the chair at the slightest warning of danger.
"Good," Miklos said. He sat in one of the matching chairs next to the heavy wood desk and crossed his legs. "Now we may speak frankly. When Jesper first went to Dharma thirty-six years ago as part of the Concordat team assisting your government, he wrote to me many times about his experiences there. I remember well that he fell in love with the people—one in particular."
"My late Aunt Donata," Cynara said. "Dharma was deeply fortunate to keep Magnus Siannas after the blockade. Without him, I don't know what would have happened to the Nine Worlds."
"Or to any of the human worlds, considering the part your uncle played in—" He stopped, looked at Ronan, and continued smoothly. "I heard regularly from Jesper until the blockade, and very little since. But I knew he was fond of his niece, and of course I have had reports of your progress each time you've completed a run. I am delighted to meet you in person, Captain D'Accorso."
"Thank you, my lord."
Miklos chuckled. "Jesper was certainly never so respectful. It's amusing to think of him as one of Dharma's elite." He clasped his hand over his knee. "Call me Miklos, and I will call you Cynara."
"Thank you, my… Miklos."
"That isn't so difficult, is it?" He grew serious. "You said in your message that you knew that Observer Janek would be reporting the events of the past few days in a prejudicial light, and you wished to present another perspective before any hasty action was taken. Is that correct?"
"It is." She curbed her impatience and waited for him to finish.
"I have already heard something of Ser Janek's story. He paints quite an ominous picture. However—" He raised his hand to forestall Cynara's protest. "I fully intend to hear you out. Ser Ronan."
Ronan's attention had never left Miklos, but he had not expected to be addressed. "Aho'Kei."
"First of Clan… indeed, I'm afraid not. My brother is Archon, and I am quite content to be Second."
"You know Voishaaur," Ronan said with wary respect.
"A little. My family was closely involved in negotiations during both shaauri conflicts." He continued to appear relaxed, as if the subject were not one to arouse powerful emotions. "Ronan is not a shaauri name, is it?"
Once again Ronan was startled, though he hid it quickly. "It was given to me by Kinsmen."
"Of course." Miklos leaned forward. "Have you ever been called by another name?"
"No, Aino'Kei."
"Do you remember anything of your earlier childhood? Your parents?"
"I do not."
"VelKalevi is a Kinsman designation, but you do not claim Kinsman descent." He steepled his fingers under his chin. "The Kalevi Line is said to be one of those most opposed to peace with humans; in fact, they have a reputation for murderous hatred of humanity. These were the people who raised you."
"Lord Miklos—" Cynara began.
He ignored her. "Is it not true, Ser Ronan, that you hate all humans, including yourself?"
* * *
Chapter 17
« ^ »
Cynara shot up from her seat. "Lord Miklos," she said, "you said you would hear us out—"
He raised his hand. Ronan's expression was stretched tight, as if the muscles in his temples sought to pull back large, expressive ears he didn't own.
"The Kalevi raised me," he said in a near-whisper. "They hate humans. They fear that humans will destroy the way of life they honor."
"They tortured him," Cynara said. She felt herself shaking and clenched her fists to assert some control over her body. "They beat him and broke his bones when he was still a child. They tried to destroy his natural telepathic ability."
"He is a telepath."
She dropped back into her chair, still shaking. "Ser Janek must have made that clear."
"Among other things." He made a calming motion with his hands. "What may seem cruelty to you, Captain, is necessity if I am to understand and judge the situation as you requested." He looked at Ronan. "Be at ease, young man. I intend you no harm. You will suffer no beatings here."
"They would have destroyed his mind on Dharma," Cynara said.
"And that is why you brought him to us." He got up and went to a blackwood sideboard, where he poured clear liquid from a crystal decanter into a glass. Instead of drinking it himself, he skirted the desk and brought it to Ronan.
"Water," he said. "Unadulterated, I assure you."
To Cynara's shock, Ronan accepted the glass, sniffed it, and drank the contents in one swallow. Miklos resumed his seat.
"Ser Janek," he said, "appears to suspect that your relationship with this young man has become dangerous to Alliance security. Having witnessed your defense of him, I can see that you care for him a great deal."
"He's saved my life and the lives of my crew," she said. The words felt thick on her tongue. "I realize that Janek questions my objectivity."
"Ser Ronan sought refuge on the Pegasus, which you granted contrary to Janek's advice."
"As long as I am captain of the Pegasus, Lord Miklos, no one seeking sanctuary will be left to die alone in space."
"Indeed." Miklos had lost his air of good humor, and he spoke as if Ronan wasn't there. "Nevertheless, there was always a possibility that Ronan was a shaauri agent. You chose to accept him at his word, though you knew the risks. Was it your own telepathy that convinced you of his good faith?"
"My telepathy, Lord Miklos, was never very reliable."
"You did receive a shield here on Persephone before you took the captaincy."
"Yes."
"It seemed evident to Ser Janek that something had happened during your brief stay on Dharma to arouse your suspicions against Ronan and even to doubt his motives. In spite of this, you took him out from under the Dharman Trade Council's nose."
"Perhaps you should invite Ser Janek here, Lord Miklos, since you give such credence to his report."
"Do you deny his suspicions, Captain?"
She could have lied. She knew that some Persephoneans were telepaths, though the gift was far less common than on Dharma. But even through her anger she recognized that this was not a man who deserved, or would tolerate, deception.
"I do not," she said calmly. "There are details of recent events that Janek does not know. Ronan has been gradually recovering the telepathic abilities taken from him when he was a child. I am aware of the risks involved in such a recovery, and my own possible vulnerability. It is for that reason that I brought him here to be questioned, rather than allowing the Dharman Council to destroy him with the assumption of guilt that has not been proven."
"Then you concede that he may not be what he claims."
Ronan half rose from his seat. "It is me you should question, Aino'Kei. You may do with me as you wish, but do not doubt the captain's loyalty to you and your people."
"My people," Miklos repeated. "Where does your loyalty lie, Ronan?"
"With Captain D'Accorso."
Miklos turned on Cynara. "Were you intimate with this man, Cynara?"
In a blur of movement, Ronan leaped across the room, stopping centimeters from Lord Miklos's chair. He no longer looked remotely human.
"It is enough," he said, hissing between bared teeth. "Do not question her further."
"Ronan." Cynara got up carefully and held out her hand, fearing far more for him than Miklos. "Please."
"It's all right." Miklos glanced from Ronan's face to his arched fingers. "I see that his allegiance in at least one area is indisputable."
Kinsman's Oath Page 22
