by Peter David
“And you will allow yourself to be intimidated by him?” demanded Fhermus. Robin could see veins standing out on his throat.
“Most assuredly not.” Si Cwan looked thoughtfully at Xyon, who was lying on the floor and looking helplessly at the stab wound in his leg. The bleeding was slowing, but it still needed to be tended to.
“I need bandages for this man,” Robin called out.
“No, you don’t,” Si Cwan said quickly. “Ankar!”
Ankar came forward, bowing slightly.
“This is Ankar,” Si Cwan said in a conversational tone to Xyon, who was still on the floor. “Ankar has served my family for quite some time. Ankar, tell the young gentleman your current duties.”
“I am your senior aide, milord. I am responsible for maintaining of appointments, of assuring the smooth flow of—”
“And would you mind telling the gentleman,” Si Cwan interrupted him, “what you did for my family when you first came into our service?”
Ankar smiled in a wistful, nostalgic manner. “Interrogation, Lord Cwan.”
“Were you skilled at it?”
“Very skilled, milord.”
“And have you kept your…tools…finely honed even after all this time?”
“Yes, milord,” Ankar assured him.
“Si Cwan, you can’t!” Robin said.
“Lieutenant Commander…I very much can.” He turned back to Ankar. “Bring him down to one of the storage facilities in the lower chambers. Take whomever you need with you to get the job done.”
“The job being to learn the whereabouts of your sister?”
“And my fiancée!” Tiraud called out.
Ankar gave him a withering look. “Well, since they’re both the same individual, that should cut my workload in half.” He then snapped his fingers and several of Si Cwan’s personal guard came forward and hauled Xyon to his feet. Unable to stand, he hung on either side of them, clutching on like an energetic slab of meat.
“Thanks for the help,” Xyon muttered to Robin. She saw blood trickling between his lips and began to fear that serious internal injury had been done him.
“Xyon, he’s telling the truth,” Robin said.
“How do you know that?”
“I can sense it.”
“Tragically,” Si Cwan replied, “I can sense that he’s lying. Stalemate, it seems. Take him away, Ankar, until he’s prepared to tell the truth….”
“You want the truth, Cwan?” Xyon’s voice was raspy. It was clearly an effort for him to speak at all. “You really want it?”
“Yes,” Si Cwan said impatiently. “I really want it.”
“All right. The truth is…”
“Is what?”
“The truth is,” and he forced a smile, revealing blood between his teeth. “The truth is…after all this time, you still punch like a girl.”
“Get him out of here!” Ankar shouted.
“A little girl!” Xyon called behind him as he was escorted out of the room by Ankar and the guards. “Not even a big girl! You punch like a little, little girl! You call that a punch!? I’ve been served harder punches out of punch bowls!” With his taunting still echoing in the room behind him, the doors slammed shut even as Xyon’s voice continued to echo in the room.
“He’ll talk,” Si Cwan predicted calmly. “He’ll talk…and we will learn where he’s hiding Kalinda.”
“And if he’s telling the truth?” asked Robin.
“He’s not telling the truth. He must know where she is.”
“But if he is?”
“He. Is. Not.” Si Cwan’s voice could not have been any more confident. “There are indisputably two people in this galaxy who know where Kalinda is right now. We have one of them now, and once we elicit the information from him, we will have the other…namely, Kalinda.”
Captivity
Kalinda had absolutely no clue where she was.
She knew that she had been transported into a dark and lonely place, an area so inky black that she literally could not see her hand in front of her face. If it was designed to be evocative of the grave, then it was succeeding beyond the wildest expectations that any designer could have had for it.
But the grave held little fear for Kalinda. She had learned long ago that what led others to fear death was the uncertainty of what lay beyond. Kalinda did not claim to have absolute knowledge of those mysteries, but what she did know beyond a certainty was that death was not the end of anything at all. Instead it was simply the next step in existence after life. She wasn’t enamored of death particularly, nor was she reckless in the way she lived. But the prospect of passing didn’t concern her the way it did others.
So she took comfort in the fact that, if her captors were endeavoring to demoralize her by putting her in fear of her life, they were going to fail utterly.
She was so focused on the possibilities of psychological gamesmanship that it didn’t occur to her for long minutes that there might be something hiding in the dark preparing to leap at her, take her down, and kill her on the spot. As soon as she did realize it, she held her breath and listened attentively to see if, indeed, she was alone. The longer she didn’t breathe, the louder the pounding of her own heart became to her. All that time, she heard absolutely nothing, and finally expelled her breath in a rush. She felt a bit silly that she had been so paranoid until she concluded that when unknown pursuers have whisked you out of a ship and into a pitch-dark prison, it no longer qualified as paranoia. Someone truly was out to get her.
At one point she called out, “If you return me to New Thallon immediately, and unharmed, not only will you not be punished, but I’m reasonably sure you’ll receive some sort of reward.” She didn’t actually expect a reply, but she wanted to allow her voice to bounce around the room a bit so she could get an idea of just how big it was. Trying to pace it out would have been a waste of time: She would have had no idea whether she was going in a straight line or not. Furthermore, for all she knew, there was some horrific drop waiting for her at the edge. At least where she was, it was more likely that nothing was going to happen to her.
She had no clue how much time passed. All she knew was that she remained exactly where she was until she could stand no longer. Then she sat, and then she slumped over, exhausted from all that she had endured and also lulled into sleep through sheer sensory deprivation in the darkness.
When she awoke, she was somewhere else.
It was still darkness all around. That much had not changed. But something else had. Something seemed very different. At first she couldn’t put her finger on what that might be, but then she realized that it was two things. The first was that there was total silence. Before, there had been a very faint but steady humming of power, undoubtedly from whatever unseen engines powered the bizarre vessel. She’d barely been aware of them while she’d been aboard the ship, but now that they had been silenced, she realized they were missing. That meant that either the ship had gone completely dead in space or she herself had been relocated.
She came to the conclusion that it was the latter, because something smelled different as well. The air in her previous place of containment had been oddly sterile. The atmosphere she was in now smelled like…well, like an atmosphere. Instead of the meticulously filtered air of a space vessel, she was inhaling genuine, regular planet air. She hadn’t even realized there was a substantial difference. Now, though, with only her nose and her hearing being of any use to her, those senses were far more attuned to her new reality.
She was also feeling hungry, but she wasn’t about to inform her captors of that. If she was willing to let herself starve to death while in Xyon’s captivity, she certainly felt no different about the subject now.
For a brief time, she wondered if somehow this was some sort of elaborate subterfuge that Xyon was engaging in. That he had masterminded this entire involved affair, either to beat her down, or so that he could come sweeping in, rescue her, and thus try to win her love once more. She came t
o the conclusion that this was not the case. If there was anything Xyon had proven—indeed, if there was one great personality flaw he had (among the many he had thus far displayed)—it was that he was an inveterate juvenile who acted purely on impulse in all things. Complex planning and involved schemes were simply not his strength. No, she was inclined to believe this was exactly what it appeared to be. She’d been kidnapped and, while being returned by one kidnapper, had been grabbed by another.
“I know you moved me,” she called out. “You’re not fooling anyone…least of all my brother. He’s going to find me, and I promise you, it will go badly for you. So if you have any desire to keep your heads on your shoulders, you’ll open up whatever serves as a door in this place and let me out.”
Suddenly she heard a grinding of metal and, some feet away, what appeared to be a large circular door was rolling away from an opening.
“That was easier than I could have thought,” she muttered. “I should have said something ages ago.”
Suspecting a trap, she still made no move toward the exit. She heard some sort of shuffling and, long moments later, a figure appeared in the doorway. She tried to make him out. It wasn’t easy, because he was severely backlit by the light in the hallway. Nor were matters helped by the fact that she’d been in pitch blackness for who-knew-how-long. So she was having vast difficulties adjusting to the sudden flow of light to her eyes. Tears were running down the side of her face, she was squinting so hard.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Come here, child,” replied her captor, and he gestured in what appeared to be a gentle manner. His tone did not sound especially rough either. “Do not be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You’re not?” He sounded vaguely disappointed. “Snatched away from those you know and love? Thrust into an unknown situation? You’re far braver than I. I’d be terrified about now.”
“Well…I’m not….”
“Why…I think my knees would be trembling beyond my ability to control,” he continued in that same mild tone. “My hands would be shaking…my breath racing…my heart pounding so hard against my chest that it would feel as if it were trying to break out and skitter away across the floor.”
Kalinda was sure that she felt her heart endeavoring to do just that. “Why don’t you just shut up,” she said.
“All right,” he said calmly. “Just making conversation.”
Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the new light source, and she took several tentative steps toward the being who was standing there. Slowly she started to be able to make him out. “Wait a minute,” she said finally. “You’re…you’re a Priatian.”
“Yes.”
“Why is a Priatian here?”
“Well,” he replied, “we’re not all that uncommon on Priatia. In fact, you see us more or less wherever you go.”
“What the hell am I doing on Priatia?” demanded Kalinda.
“Talking to me.”
“I mean…you know what I mean!”
“Yes, I do. You’ll have to forgive me. This is a new and different situation for me, so I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable.”
“First of all,” Kalinda informed him, “I don’t have to forgive you for anything. In fact, I tend to be disinclined to forgive you for a single damned thing. And second, this is a new and different situation for me, too, so why should I care about any discomfiture you might be feeling.”
“Is it really?”
“Yes!”
“Odd,” said the Priatian. “I’d been given to understand that you’ve been kidnapped a number of times before. I should think you were quite experienced at it.”
She paused and then said grudgingly, “All right…all right, I’ll give you that. I have been, well, kidnapped more times than most people would consider…I don’t know…sane. Then again, I am a Thallonian noble, so that makes me a valuable prize to many, including, I suspect, you. I mean, that is what this is about. Right, whoever you are? This is about seeing what sort of bargaining value you can get from having me in your possession.”
“I can see how it would seem that way.”
“What other way should it seem? And speaking of whoever you are, who are you?”
“Oh. My pardon. I am known as Keesala,” he said. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink, perhaps?”
“You can get me out of here, Keesala.”
“Anything except that.” He tilted his head, studying her intently. “You have much of your brother’s general bearing.”
“You know my brother?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know,” she said, her voice harsh, “that he will kill you for keeping me imprisoned in this way.”
“Would you prefer to be imprisoned in a completely different way?”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
He nodded. “Yes,” he said sadly, “I do.” But then something in his manner changed, and his face darkened. “If, however, you are looking for someone to blame for the situation in which you presently find yourself…or, for that matter, someone to blame for what’s going to happen to you… then you really need look no further than your beloved brother. It is his fault that this has happened.”
“His fault.” She was walking back and forth, studying him with a contemptuous air. “Is that what it comes down to, then? My abductor is so lacking in conviction that he has to blame the brother of his victim in order to excuse his own vile actions?”
Keesala did not move from the spot where he was standing, being content to watch her pacing with unwavering gaze. “Just to clarify: I did not kidnap you. Others did that. My brethren and I are simply holding you here against your will.”
“Oh, I see.” She was dripping with sarcasm. “Merely the fact that there was no transportation of my person is sufficient to lessen your guilt.”
“I am just trying to be accurate. And as for guilt…I feel none. None whatsoever. And before you ask me why I don’t,” he cut her off before she could speak, “the question should be…why don’t you?”
“Over the loss of your worlds?” She sniffed disdainfully. “I have heard these arguments many times in the past. You refuse to deal with the truth of the matter: My ancestors fought your ancestors. Yours lost, mine won. Now we reap the benefits of that win, and you suffer the consequences of your loss. Asking now for us to willingly turn over that which our ancestors fought and died for is simply too ridiculous to be contemplated.”
“And who is that speaking, I wonder?” he asked. “Is that your own voice? Or your brother speaking for you.”
“My mind is my own. My words are my own.”
“And yet your future is not your own. Rejoice in your small victories, little noblewoman, for the small ones are all you have left to you.” He advanced on her and she stood her ground. “To think that I felt some sympathy for you.”
“Feel sympathy for yourself. My brother will find me. You will pay for your actions. You will all pay.”
“You see?”
It was another voice, from behind Keesala. A second Priatian had been standing there, who knew for how long. “You see, Keesala?” he said again. “Are you satisfied? She’s no different than the others.”
“Yes, I see, Pembark,” Keesala said tightly. “I see very well.”
“So there will be no whining from you over what is demanded of—”
“Quiet!” He whirled to face the Priatian called Pembark, and his body was trembling with suppressed anger. “Do what must be done. I set aside my objections. But never again address me in such a disrespectful manner. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” replied Pembark easily. He moved toward Kalinda and grabbed her roughly by the wrist. “Come with me, girl. Don’t make this harder on yourself than—”
Kalinda didn’t hesitate. Rather than trying to pull away, as Pembark had no doubt expected, instead she shoved toward him. With a fast twist of her wrist, she broke his grip, and then drove
the heel of her hand into his face. She was satisfied to hear something break upon contact. He fell like a sack of rocks, moaning and clutching the general area where she had broken something. Immediately she whirled to face Keesala, anticipating an attack.
Instead he just stared, and there even seemed to be a hint of sadness in the way he looked at her.
“Such fervor,” he said. “That comes from your pure Thallonian blood, no doubt.”
“No doubt.” She tried to move around him, but he took a step to match hers and remained blocking her path. Pembark was still groaning in his pain. Both Keesala and Kalinda ignored him. Kalinda cocked a fist, ready to knock over Keesala. “Don’t keep blocking my way.”
“It needed to be pure, you see,” he said. He was speaking to her in a distant manner, as if she weren’t there and he was talking to himself. “It’s what they require, in order to accomplish what must be accomplished.”
“They? They who?”
“The Wanderers. Those who came before. They who gave us the Many Worlds…the Many Worlds that we foolishly allowed to slip away.”
“How nice for you. Now step aside. I won’t warn you ag—”
“No need for more warnings,” he assured her. He moved to one side and swept his tentacle in a broad gesture to indicate that she should feel free to walk past him.
She did so without hesitation. She had no notion what she was going to do once she got out of the room. At that moment, though, all that was important to her was making a clear statement that she would accept nothing less than complete and total freedom, and a return to her home. She stopped at the threshold, turned and said archly to Keesala, “If you hold these ‘Wanderers’ in such high esteem, then why don’t you turn to them to help you in your cause? Oh, I forgot. You cannot do so, because they’ve abandoned you. Perhaps, Keesala, that should tell you something.”
“Oh, it did,” he replied. “On the other hand, think of what it told us…now that they’ve returned.”
“Returned?”
She hadn’t the time to process the word before something wrapped itself around her waist. Instinctively she tried to push it off, and instantly her hands were covered in some sort of viscous ooze.
