Sunset Over Abendau (The Inheritance Trilogy #2)

by Jo Zebedee

  “Daddy!” she shouted. Down the corridor, she heard the echoing call from her mum – “Kerra!”

  The door was unlatched and she started to breathe a little easier: he was okay. But it opened and the doctor was there, not her dad. Her panic came back. She shook her head, backing away a little, the lump in her throat too big to speak around.

  “It’s all right,” Sam said, and put his hand on her shoulder. His voice was calm and she started to breathe deeper. She reached out with her mind, trying to feel his thoughts, and while he was worried, it was controlled, less urgent than her mum’s.

  “Your dad’s here. He’s fine.”

  He opened the door wider and she stepped in, still a little scared. She looked at her dad’s desk – that’s where she mostly found him, working – but he wasn’t there and she gulped a breath in.

  “Kerra.”

  She turned at his voice. He was lying on the sofa and his arm was in a sling, but he smiled at her. She tried to feel his mind, but he shook his head, sensing her straight away.

  “Don’t,” he said, gently. “It’s all right, love.”

  She ran and threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back, one-armed, familiar and strong.

  “You’re choking me,” he said, and she let go. He was smiling, though, and she did, too. Compared to her mum, he was the one who appeared normal. She sat on the sofa, and he shifted so that he was sitting beside her.

  “What’s wrong with your arm?” she asked.

  “Someone shot me,” he said, glancing at it. “But they mostly missed.”

  He reached with his good arm and wiped her cheek. She must look like a kid, all teary and red-eyed. She rubbed her face. She needed to blow her nose but used her sleeve to wipe it instead, stopping when she imagined what her mum would say.

  “I didn’t know you were hurt,” she said. “No one told me, and then I woke up and mum was there. The worry was coming off her in big waves, and it was filling my head, but I didn’t know what had happened.”

  Another tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. He pulled her head onto his uninjured shoulder, letting her tears soak into his shirt. She nestled in closer, not caring if she made it wet through.

  “Sssh,” he said into her hair, “it’s all right. Everyone’s all right. I know what it’s like when the minds fill yours and it’s hard to make sense of things. Sit quietly for a moment; it’ll go away. Feel my mind, I won’t stop you – I’m practically asleep. You’ll see there’s nothing to worry about.”

  She reached out and it was true, he was all fuzzy and sleepy.

  “In fact, I think my doctor has doped me,” he said.

  She lifted her head and looked at Sam, who shrugged a little.

  “I have,” he said. He jerked his head at the door. “I need to go and see my family, but I’ll go past Sonly and let her know you’re okay. I’ll arrange for some medics to change your dressings.”

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  “No problem. And remember – a quiet morning, give yourself a chance.” He opened the door and then turned back. “Kerra, when your dad gets tired, it’s the pain meds, okay? Nothing else.”

  Sam closed the door behind him, and Kerra sat curled up against her dad. His breathing deepened as he dozed off. She touched his sling. They’d shot him because he was the Emperor, and they didn’t like what he was doing. She took her hand away and he stirred.

  “Did you manage to sleep?” he asked, his voice lazy. “Or did the toys take over the bed?”

  “No.” She smiled – he always said that, and it was corny, but it still comforted her. The people who shot him didn’t know he said stupid things. Or that he always let her win at electro-pool, and then huffed. All they knew was the father on display, on the vids, shaking people’s hands. The one whose smile never reached his eyes.

  She glanced at the door and saw the guards’ shadows through the glassine. Looking back, her eyes traced the line of the holster strapped under her dad’s t-shirt, down to the concealed handgun. Once, when she was about six, she’d tried to look at it, but he’d told her not to. He’d been gentle, telling her how dangerous the weapon was, but he’d talked about it as if it was normal, to carry a weapon, to have it loaded and ready to use. As if one day, it was something she might have to do, as well as the guards and secured transports and a life lived from behind screens of security.

  “Daddy?”

  “Uh-huh?” He opened one eye and half-smiled.

  “I don’t want to be an Empress.”

  “Don’t blame you.” He didn’t sound angry, or surprised, or anything other than groggy. “What d’you want to be?”

  “I don’t know. I think I might want to work with animals. Maybe make them better when they’re sick, or something.” She waited for his response, but he just nodded for her to go on. “But I really, really don’t want to be Empress. Do I have to be?”

  She’d never asked before; she’d never dared to. Not when she knew the answer, and what she’d been groomed for, learning all about the families and their planets, the demography of the empire.

  “Why don’t you want it? You get a nice palace…”

  “It looks boring,” she said. “All you do is give speeches and talk to people you don’t like. So does Mum.”

  “I do a bit more than that,” he said. “Is it because of last night?”

  Was it? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed to go deeper than that. She chewed her lip, thinking about, about…

  …about how he’d been hurt, just because of who he was. She’d seen his scars – as a kid she’d been fascinated by them – and heard him yelling in the night. She was heir to the empire, and there were people who hated her, too. She went to tell him, but stopped. He’d been shot and was calm and joking – how could she admit to being scared?

  “It’s not normal,” she said, instead.

  He looked at her for a long moment, as if reading her thoughts, before he said, “Ah, that….” He shrugged, and winced. “It’s a big empire, there’re a lot of types of normal. This is no odder than many others.”

  She paused. It made some sense, but even so, to be killed or hurt because of your job, not what you were like? “Daddy, do I have a choice? I don’t know who else to ask.” All her life, she’d been groomed by her mother, but she was aware of the subtle disagreements between her parents – her father’s hints that it wasn’t what he wanted and that succession might not be as automatic as it seemed. Suddenly, it seemed important to know the truth.

  He didn’t answer straightaway, and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but when she looked, his eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling.

  “I’d like you to be anything you want.” He pushed her away, gently, and sat up, seeming to wake up a bit.

  “Will you take care of it?” she asked. Now it had been admitted, she didn’t want it to be shelved because he was too busy, or thought she’d change her mind.

  He bit his lip. “Kerra, I can’t promise anything like that.” He met her eyes, not looking away. That was what she liked about him, and why she could ask – he didn’t treat her like a kid who didn’t understand. He understood that when your childhood waited for a future set in stone, you had to understand what might lie ahead. That there was no hiding place.

  “So I have no choice?” She’d known it, but had hoped. Now she felt empty, as if someone had hollowed out her chest and replaced her heart with something dead.

  “I can’t tell you what the future will bring,” he said. “I am trying to change things. And, perhaps, if I do, you’ll have more of a choice.” He glanced at the clock. “You need to get back, your tutor is due. Doing lessons in your pyjamas is not a good look.”

  She stood to go, but stopped. “Do you want me to make your arm better?”

  “It depends if you want to. It’s your power, it’s up to you what you do with it.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Normally she didn’
t use her powers openly, scared they were comparing her to him. This was different – he’d made her practice and practice, telling her it wasn’t about how much she had, but how well she used it. She knew exactly what she could do.

  He shrugged the sling off and pulled up his sleeve, unpeeling the dressing. The skin was weeping and angry and she took a moment to think about what it should be like. She put her hand on it and started to change its shape, make it smooth and not sore. She knew it hurt – she’d tried healing herself, lots – but he didn’t tell her to stop, or show that it did, so she kept going until it felt right in her head. She took her hand away and her dad glanced down.

  “Very good,” he said. “Better than I ever managed – and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He yawned. “I’ll see what I can do.” He spread his hands and she could see the lines that covered his palms, the old scars. “And I do understand.” He gave her another hug, this time a proper one, with both arms. “I love you, honey.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “It’d be no good if I loved you…”

  “...And I didn’t love you too,” she finished.

  He smiled and then whispered, “You don’t need to be scared – you’re safe.”

  She shook her head. He always knew…

  “Okay,” she said. She went to the door and waved, but he’d lain back and his eyes were already closing. She shut the door, her tummy warm inside, even though she hadn’t had breakfast. Her dad was going to see what he could do. He hadn’t dismissed her, he’d understood. Things felt so good, it was easy to tell herself it was fine, and she shouldn’t be frightened. But she still was.

  ***

  Kare watched the door shut with half-closed eyes and let out a sigh of relief. It had taken every trick he knew to hide his thoughts from Kerra. She’d been scared by Sonly, evidently – it wouldn’t do to let her see how much last night had brought back the dangers of his role. He pushed away his thoughts of sleepiness, but when he tried to sit up a blanket of exhaustion hit him. Dimly, he wondered what Sam had given him, and slumped back.

  For a while, he lay watching the sunlight on the ceiling. It was good to be like this – he felt more at peace than he had in days. His arm had stopped aching, too. He looked at it, his head moving slowly. She’d done a pretty good job on it, even though it had hurt like hell….

  Diving to the floor, the dead man’s eyes staring at him, his shoulder on fire.

  He blinked, clearing the memory. Another one for the nightmare collection? If so, it was preferable to the current selection: a welcome change, even. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be drawn down to the numbness of the drugged stupor.

  She wants an animal sanctuary…

  A pang of loss ran through him. That was what Karia had wanted, when she was about six. All his twin had got was a cage with a few mice rescued from the Banned base. What had he wanted then?

  More asleep than awake, he tried to remember, but the only thing he came up with was to fly like his dad. It had been a pipe-dream, nothing more; he’d known, even then, he wasn’t a Controller. His mind drifted, taking him back to his childhood: the steady hum of the galley’s cool unit; their ship cocooned in silent space, apart from the rest of the world.

  The ship, where he’d belonged… their cabin, curled up with Karia… it had been simple then….

  He opened his eyes, jolting awake. Something called him, deep in his mind, telling him to get up, to leave and go to the desert.

  Find peace.

  Peace. He hadn’t had peace since the day he’d been handed to Beck.

  Peace… no more hurt… no more dreams.

  He swung his feet onto the floor and got up, dizzy at first. The apartment seemed too bright, like it had been painted with sunshine. It swam around him, solid one moment, watery and shimmering the next. He walked to the door, opened it, and, more asleep than awake, walked past the guards, waving them back. “I’m just going down the corridor.” His voice sounded like it was from far away, but it was still his.

  He walked without thinking, following the urge to go to the desert and be at peace. It felt, for the first time in months, like he was doing the right thing. It was nice to let go.

  Would it be okay if he didn’t go back? He crossed the compound, the soft, hot sand under his feet, and his last rational thought was that he was hallucinating from whatever Sam had given him, but he still had to keep walking to find peace.

  ***

  Sam crossed the courtyard to the guest accommodation, surprised how warm it was so early in the day. It was easy to forget, when you were off-world, the ferocity of the Belaudii desert. He kicked a stone out of the way and turned his focus away from the Varnons, to his own family. Nina had been pretty frosty when he’d been called away last night, worse still when he’d told her he was staying over. How she’d react to delaying their trip to the city, he dreaded to think. Or Cai. He looked around the still courtyard. There was absolutely nothing he could do here. A day out with his family would be good. Even the flight simulator might be fun.

  Decided, he hurried from the courtyard without looking back. When he reached his apartment, Cai was playing on a games unit in the living room, sitting on his full backpack. Sam smiled: as a hint, it was hard to think of a stronger one….

  “Is that you, Sam?” called Nina.

  He assessed the level of annoyance in his wife’s voice – moderate – and went down the short corridor. He leaned against the door to the kids’ room, watching her with Dareen.

  “I’m not pleased,” she told him, without looking around.

  “I know.” He went in and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry. He’s in a mess. The whole thing is a mess. I couldn’t just walk out.” She didn’t respond, and he kissed the back of her neck, just where her bob ended. “Forgive me?”

  She sighed. “You’re forgiven, you know you are. Can we go? Cai is beside himself.”

  “Of course. When you’re ready.”

  “Half an hour,” she said. “Go and see if you can get Cai to let go of the games controller before he morphs into the console. I’ll get the baby ready.”

  If it only took his wife thirty minutes to get ready, he’d be amazed. He joined Cai and lifted the second controller.

  “What are we playing?” he asked Cai.

  He was still being soundly trounced by Cai’s leaping spider-monsters when his comms unit buzzed.

  “Tell them no!” Nina called from down the hall. “We’re going in five minutes.”

  “No problem.” He waited for the message icon to show. Quietly, he read the message, and swore.

  “Bad Dad,” said Cai.

  “That’s me.” Sam set the controller down. “Nina!”

  “What?” She came to the door, looking worried, not angry.

  “I’m sorry.” He lowered his voice, so Cai didn’t hear. “Trip’s off.”

  Her expression darkened. “Sam, no.”

  “It’s not my fault,” he said, “the compound is in lockdown.” He clenched his fists, feeling sick. “Kare’s gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  He shrugged, and her hand went to her mouth. Behind him, Cai shouted that he’d won the game, and Sam felt the whole world wasn’t real. “I have to go. Lichio needs to talk to anyone who was in the private quarters this morning.”

  She walked with him to the door. “Go, I’ll tell Cai.”

  He thought about Sonly and Kare, sniping through the meeting yesterday. They’d loved each other so much once. He was lucky: luckier than he deserved to be. He put his arms around his wife and kissed her, enjoying the warmth of her against him, the softness of her skin. She leaned in to him and he drew her against him, her soft lips meeting his.

  “Icky,” said Cai, and they pulled apart.

  “I’m so lucky to have you,” Sam said. “I’ll call or get back, as soon as I can.”

  “Are we going to the museum
now?” Cai’s voice was suspicious.

  Nina’s eyes met Sam’s, and he crouched down. “Not today, Cai. We can’t fly, the ships aren’t allowed to, but we’ll go to the games room later.”

  Cai’s mouth opened and Sam braced himself for the tantrum. Nina stepped forwards.

  “Go on, Sam,” she said. “Me and Cai – we have a shoot-out to complete, and I am sooo going to win this time.”

  She pushed Sam out, winking as he mouthed his thanks. He crossed the courtyard, avoiding the soldiers being called out for the search. The quietness had been replaced by a frantic surge of activity – ships circling the desert, scooters roaring out of the exit-gates.

  His mind returned to Kare the night before, pleading for oblivion, spilling his whiskey, breaking down. Hell, he should have done more. Called in the psych-support team, perhaps. He tracked the various paths he knew all too well, circling through possibilities, coming back to the same hellish outcome. What had Kare done?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Baelan watched the screen at the front of the cabin, concentrating on it even though all it showed was the darkness of space. Earlier, one of the soldiers had teased him about who his father was, and his powers had almost spilled over. Now, he scrunched into his seat, focusing on that darkness, trying to work out which of the stars was Belaudii’s.

  The external camera changed and a small moon filled the screen, its surface not the pure black it had seemed from further out. Instead, it had purple sparkles all over it, like it was made of glassine. He could just make out the outline of a single structure, and turned to mention it to Phelps, who was seated across the aisle from him. The general looked past him, his fingers drumming on the seat rest, and Baelan’s words died in his throat. Ever since the news of his father’s survival, the general had radiated a quiet, dangerous fury. Baelan curled back into his seat.

  “Landing in ten minutes.”

  Phelps looked up, his thin face tense. A moment later the pilot spoke again. “Decoy has picked up the interceptors.”