Resort Debauch

by Roxanne Smolen

  "I see.” Amusement played in his voice. He cupped her fingers with his own, stilling them, returning the bottle to the shelf. “I suppose the blame is partially mine. After all, I knew you were female when I left you here alone."

  "Perhaps. But you were right about one thing.” She held out her arm. “It needs sweeping."

  The chiliarch laughed, a rich hardy sound. Relief washed Anneliese in a warm rush. At that moment, she wanted to learn all she could about Sayer-Kihn, to spend the rest of her life talking with him.

  "I was about to take a walk about the pavilion,” he said. “If you were to come with me, you might keep out of trouble."

  "Sadly, trouble always knows where to find me."

  "I'll take that chance,” he said.

  Anneliese smiled.

  But Ente appeared in the doorway. She spoke in a clipped, agitated fashion, as if delivering news she found distasteful to speak. Sayer prodded her with questions. He shook his head.

  Anneliese glanced back and forth between them, wishing she could understand their strange discourse. Kihn's shoulders straightened as if he were stepping into another persona. Moving to the clothes tree, he chose a robe, garbing himself.

  Ente entered the bedroom. Shadows shifted from the lantern in her hand. Kneeling, she brushed the mate-less sandal from the top of the chest and unlatched the hinged lid. Anneliese leaned, peering inside. The trunk held neatly folded garments. Ente took out a sash and, holding it almost reverently, carried it to the waiting chiliarch.

  She loves him, Anneliese realized, watching the servant's face as she draped the sacrament about Sayer-Kihn's neck. Sayer smiled gently, and Anneliese looked away in embarrassment.

  Why should she care? she chided herself. Kihn was an abductor, a slaver, a Llaird. All that should matter was how she would escape.

  Sayer-Kihn lifted the lantern. “I'm afraid our stroll will have to wait. My presence is needed elsewhere."

  "No matter.” Anneliese brushed past him in the doorway.

  His hand fell upon her arm. “Would you accompany me?"

  Anneliese winced against the flutter of her heart. “I really don't think...."

  "The fresh air might do you good. And you can tell me about these troubles which have befallen you."

  Her ears perked. Was he going to the surface? “I'd love to come along."

  CHAPTER 28

  Mortar Thielman sank onto a richly upholstered chair in the den of his orbiting yacht. The holographic walls gave the appearance of a great library with cases of disks and windows of sunlight—but he changed the view to a water scene, thinking of Anneliese.

  Duncan set a steaming cup beside him. “Would you like dinner now, sir?"

  "Something light,” Mortar told him. “I don't have much of an appetite."

  "A bowl of soup then.” Hurriedly, the manservant left the room.

  Mortar smiled, shaking his head. Soup, he thought, Duncan's all-purpose cure. But there was no potion for sickness of the spirit. How could he go on?

  Sitting up, he struggled with his thoughts. Surah was obviously behind the conspiracy—it was too coincidental that she was on the planet. Yet, harboring a grudge against him for twenty years seemed unlikely, even for her. It nagged at him, as if a puzzle piece were missing, some part of the mystery he'd failed to grasp.

  And what had the Llaird to do with his daughter? Was their terrorist attack also a coincidence?

  A blinking light on his computer caught his attention, and he touched the monitor in acknowledgment.

  The ship captain's face appeared in the corner of the screen. “Transmission coming in for you, sir."

  He sighed then turned heavily. “Thank you, Eryngo. Pipe it down here, please."

  On the wall behind him, the water scene blanked. Call letters flashed, and then a face grew from a haze of light.

  Mortar's stomach soured. “Hello, Gordon.” Advisor. Confidant. Had he betrayed him also?

  Gordon Rathbone frowned. “You look tired."

  Mortar groaned, rubbing his face.

  Gordon said, “I can have the doctor there in...."

  "Gordon, why are you calling?"

  A smile creased the older man's face. “The Blue Gills have located Cade."

  Mortar sat upright. “Is my daughter with him?"

  "No. He'd had a companion, but apparently he tired of her, dumped her on Lantonian's moon."

  Anneliese isn't with Cade. Mortar winced, surprised at the depth of his secret hope. He said, “Will this companion of his live?"

  Gordon shrugged. “Frostbite, nothing more. She's not a good witness, Mortar, just a lead."

  Damn you, Mortar thought, always knowing what I'm thinking. “All right, have him picked up. But don't let him know I'm behind it."

  "I'm afraid it's too late for that. Cade caught wind of your interest in him and took off toward the Belt."

  "Those blundering fools!” Mortar stood suddenly, knocking the cup to the floor. “They're paid to be discreet."

  "I don't think it was the Gills who tipped him,” Gordon said. “You've been asking a lot of questions yourself. And people love to talk."

  "None more so than a mother to her son.” Mortar narrowed his eyes at Gordon's blank expression. “I had occasion to meet Cade's mother. Did you know she lives here? Perhaps you've heard of her. Surah Rudnitsky."

  Gordon's gaze flickered and he lowered his head. “Then you know."

  "Quite frankly, I'm not sure what I know. Your competence is beyond reproach. I know you would not have overlooked so pertinent a fact. All that remains is that you deliberately withheld information."

  "You doubt my loyalty?” Gordon's face drained of color. “My judgment may have waned, but never my friendship."

  "Then you deny your involvement in this machination?"

  "Yes I deny it! Better you should ask Harmadeur."

  "Harmadeur's dead,” Mortar told him.

  "That is most unfortunate.” Gordon blinked. “Disturbing, actually."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Cade owed him money. A great deal of money. I theorized that Cade wanted Anneliese's wealth to...” Gordon's voice trailed.

  Mortar glared at the viewscreen. “Well, he's paid in full now."

  "Something doesn't fit. I don't believe in coincidence."

  "Neither do I.” Mortar sat on the chair, burying his face in his hands. “Damn you, Gordon. Why didn't you tell me about Surah?"

  "A series of mistakes, I'm afraid. I had no cause to investigate Cade until he started making unusual requests. By the time I cut through his aliases and traced his heritage, he had already left with Anneliese."

  "And you decided not to mention this?"

  "I convinced myself Surah had nothing to do with it. Then when the news came of Anneliese's death, I was convinced she had.” Gordon leaned forward, his image swimming. “I would have gone to you then, almost did once or twice. Then new information turned up."

  Mortar looked up. “Yes?"

  "A while ago, Surah was negotiating a contract in taconite ore. Cade stole the coordinates and sold the whole load out from under her. They've barely spoken in three years, certainly not often enough to conspire against you and Anneliese."

  "A difficult child.” Mortar smiled to himself. Yet Surah was hiding something, he was certain of it. “And what were these unusual requests of his which so alarmed you?"

  "Explosives. He wanted huge quantities of tetryl jelly. I put him in touch with our regular people."

  Mortar leapt to his feet. “That's it! The piece I've been missing! There had been no terrorist attack. Cade set the explosion."

  "But, why? To cover Anneliese's abduction?"

  "He staged her death.” Mortar nodded. “I want you to get a statement from whomever sold him the tetryl. And make it legal—we want it to hold up under an investigation. Then put a tracer on Cade. Don't alarm him, just keep me informed of his movements. Maybe if he thinks I've lost track of him, he'll make another mist
ake."

  "Are you going to the local authorities about the explosion?” Gordon asked.

  Mortar scowled. “First I have a few questions to ask Surah."

  CHAPTER 29

  In her mind, Anneliese marked the tunnel. The light of the lantern danced upon the ceiling. Kihn's men walked with them, one ahead, one behind—but whether they were bodyguards or chaperons, she couldn't tell.

  "What has happened on the surface which requires a chiliarch?” she asked Sayer-Kihn.

  "There has been a dispute. The herd tender claims a man murdered one of his yllib for food."

  Anneliese's heart leapt. “You mean we are still near the riverbed?” Perhaps she could rejoin her journey.

  Sayer-Kihn glanced askance. “How do you know there was once a river?"

  "I could see it, picture it somehow."

  "You are a special woman, Anneliese-Thielman. When I saw you that day in the spaceport, I thought you were like a fragile bird, pale and delicate, struggling against her captors. There are very few birds left on my planet. Why did you cut your hair?"

  "At the time, I had little choice,” she said.

  "Ah. The trouble of which you spoke. The bird winging toward freedom."

  Anneliese flicked her gaze to the side. Lamplight outlined Sayer's profile. His cheekbones accented the length of his face, the strength of his jaw.

  She said, “In the city, anyone of importance has at least three names. Yet, you have only two."

  Nodding, Sayer-Kihn took a breath. “The more one possesses, the more names they are given. Here in the barrows, possessions are debts because you are responsible for them. As chiliarch, I own very little.” He smiled. “If I had but one name, I would be truly rich."

  "Such concepts are unheard of on my world,” she said.

  "Where are you from?"

  Anneliese looked away, wishing she hadn't spoken. How could she tell him she was raised on a moon that was owned by her father, a planetoid referred to as Mortar's Keep. “Light-years from here,” she murmured.

  "Do you have birds and rivers on your world?"

  "Oh, yes! It is high country, lush with forests, and rivers race themselves through the trees. They cascade from cliffs one hundred feet high. That is what I miss the most, I think—diving with the waterfalls."

  Sayer grew silent, watching her, and Anneliese cleared her throat.

  "Have you always wanted to be a chiliarch?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No one aspires to be such."

  The floor sloped upward dramatically. The tunnel brightened, rumbling with voices. Anneliese raised her chin, stretching to see about the man before her. Ahead, people filled a cavern. They parted for their chiliarch. Two men stood on opposite sides of the cave, men holding them apart, the carcass of a young yllib between them.

  Anneliese ran her eyes over the crowd, dark men and tall women, their voices checked as if caught in mid-cry. In this melee, she thought, she could slip from the cave and be halfway to the city before anyone missed her.

  Then one of Sayer's men moved nearer her side. The other circled along the wall; after a moment, she saw him, a shadow against daylight at the entrance of the cave. As if they'd read her thoughts.

  Sayer-Kihn stepped into the center of the crowd. He looked toward the restrained men, touching each as he greeted them, then turned his attention to the yllib. Slowly, his expression fell into one of such sadness, Anneliese thought it must be feigned.

  One of the combatants spoke and the other responded angrily, struggling against those who bound him; but Sayer's voice rose over the scuffle. He commanded the two be set free and, as their arms dropped, they made no further attempt to reach each other.

  Sayer looked up then, his eyes gathering his people. He spoke in low deliberate tones. Anneliese felt tension in the air, felt the crowd lean as one, reaching for each word, and again she wished she could understand their language.

  For his voice was like a lapping wave, its rhythm lulling, belying its depth; and as it rose in intensity, she felt a shiver course through her. She could listen forever.

  The men in dispute lowered their heads, Kihn's litany affecting them. Others in the crowd clasped hands or embraced. Tears fell unabashed. Sayer-Kihn's voice resonated within the cavern, swelling as if it would break down the walls, and when at last it stopped, the absence echoed.

  For several moments, no one disturbed the silence; then the aggrieved men stepped together, speaking quietly. One of the men knelt beside the animal, stroking the shaggy wool and humming a mantra. Then he lifted the carcass to his shoulders, making his way toward the tunnel.

  Anneliese stepped aside to allow him to pass. She kept her eyes upon Sayer-Kihn. People filed passed him, faces averted as if ashamed. The chiliarch himself appeared drained. His man stood at his back, watching the crowd.

  Protecting him, she realized, and felt foolish that she'd thought they guarded against her escape. When the last of the Llaird had left, she stepped forward.

  "So, you are a mediator,” she said.

  "My people choose their own path. It is not for me to tell them what to do. I am chiliarch. I protect the old ways, preserve the wisdom of our forebears.” He smiled sidelong. “In short, I tell them stories."

  Turning, he moved to the entrance of the cave. Anneliese followed him outside and felt instantly crushed. Nothing looked familiar.

  The cave mouth opened ten feet from the ground. A narrow path led down the rock side. The landscape fell in cliffs and bluffs.

  Sayer-Kihn breathed deeply. “The fresh air I promised you."

  "But where is the Trader City?” Anneliese blurted.

  He chuckled. “It lies in that direction, two night's walk along the path of the moons. Who waits for you there, that you should so desire the company of smugglers?"

  "Is that what they are?"

  "They sell to the Resort and, when it is not looking, they steal from it also. I am amazed that those in power should allow such a game to continue."

  Anneliese shrugged. “It's good for business.” She looked toward the barely risen sun, imagining cityscapes upon the horizon.

  Sayer sat upon a ledge, leaning back wearily. “Once I tried to recruit the smugglers to my cause against the Resort. I sought their help in disrupting the supply shipments. But I found them more afraid of repercussions from within than of all the laws the peace-givers could muster."

  "I thought your kind knew only violence,” Anneliese said.

  "My counterparts are short-sighted. They think freedom will be won with steel knives and stone clubs."

  "You can't fight businessmen with warriors.” Anneliese sat beside him. “The only way to attack the Resort is through their profits."

  "So I have expounded, and so I have despaired, for we have nothing to rival them.” He looked at her. “You did not answer before. Who waits for you in the city?"

  "No one!” she snapped. “Do you long to hear me say it? No one—anywhere—waits for me!"

  "Then why do you go there?"

  "To find a way off this accursed planet."

  "I see. Still, this accursed planet has given you something others have not—freedom from those who would oppress you."

  Anneliese stiffened. Cade's face came to mind, replaced by that of her father. “What do you know of it? What do you know of anything?"

  "Of you, I know very little. And yet, somehow, I think I do. Strange, this connection between us."

  Anneliese's senses reeled. Did he know of her attraction to him? “There is no connection,” she whispered. “I am not what you think I am. I'm not your fragile bird."

  "You are strong of will and gentle of spirit. Even Pilar-Shay trusts you."

  "But, he doesn't know. I've done things. Horrible things.” She held out her hands as if they still dripped Harmadeur's blood.

  "And would you not do so again?"

  Unshed tears stung Anneliese's face.

  Sayer smiled gently. “Perhaps it is time for one of my s
tories.” He closed his eyes a moment, as if tapping into an inner well, then continued speaking in a low, clear voice. “Once there was a young man who believed all the usual things about love and justice and war. He lived on a world where the most valued commodity was water, for it was very scarce and without it, none could live.

  "Then, one day, this young man had occasion to leave his home and travel among the stars. He saw all manner of miracles, marvels his limited imagination could barely fathom; but what interested him most was a laser-sighted divining rod, for here was a device which could truly save his people."

  Anneliese hugged her arms together, losing herself in his words. The vista before her faded, until she saw only what he pictured for her, knew only his story as it slowly unfolded.

  "So the man gathered what earnings he could, and by the time his travels brought him home again, he had obtained a rod of his own. Look what I have brought! he cried to his people. No more will we be bridled by thirst and starvation.

  "But his people had little knowledge of technology and would not believe what they couldn't understand. How does it work? they questioned, and the man, not truly understanding the device himself, told them that invisible light, like lightning bolts, would shoot from his hand.

  "Then he took them to a cave on the outskirts of the barrow, pointed the device, and told them where to dig. That day, a mighty well sprang from the wall of the cave, and no one would believe it was the hand of technology, not his hand, which had made it possible."

  Anneliese frowned, waking reluctantly. Yllib scaled the rocks before her. With a whir of wings, a small bird took to the air, rising through bands of sunlight.

  "I don't understand the moral of your tale,” she said.

  Sayer laughed. “Morals are for people, not stories. But if you were to assign meaning, it might be this: we all follow the paths laid out for us. Only the timid fail their destiny. And you, Anneliese-Thielman, are far from timid."

  Anneliese looked toward the morning-shaded horizon. The land was beautiful, she thought. “What became of the man in your story?"

  Sayer-Kihn got to his feet. “They made him chiliarch."

  They walked in silence as they followed the tunnel back to the barrow. Anneliese thought of Sayer-Kihn's openness, his easy acceptance of her. She remembered her father's reaction when she told him she planned to marry Cade, then laughed to herself, imagining his response if she brought home a barbarous cave dweller.