by Jo Zebedee
His words cut through Lichio’s calm, making him want to stop the lift and get out, no matter where it was. He took a deep breath. What Farran was proposing wasn’t possible. If he tried for Abendau now, he risked being attacked from the city and compound; they’d outflank his small force easily. He met Farran’s eyes. No matter what was happening in Abendau palace, he needed to strengthen his position. The lift stopped and its doors opened, revealing the ground floor of the port, busy with the Roamer ships and preparations on the fighters.
“We go for the compound,” Lichio said, slowly and directly, putting his hand out to hold the door. “If you think any part of me wants to leave them there, you don’t know me. I love my sister, I love my niece and despite being ready to kill him myself, Kare is my… friend. And my Emperor. If I thought by attacking Abendau I’d make any difference to them, I’d order it. But if I do we’ll lose, and they will never get out. That’s a fact.” He stood, facing the Roamer, challenging him to disagree. “We attack the compound today, and the palace when it’s viable and not before.”
“Not with the Roamers,” said Farran. “We’ll be moving on Abendau, regardless of your wishes. But it would be better to do it together. You know the palace, you have more firepower.”
Lichio let the door close; he didn’t need an audience for this. “Kare – Karlyn, whatever the hell you call him – ordered you to place yourself under the command of his senior officer. That’s me. In case I haven’t been consistently clear on that point. If you take your people, you disobey him.”
“Karlyn doesn’t fully understand yet. The Roamers do what’s right for the Roamers. We have to safeguard the mesh: it’s what holds us together. The mesh is Karlyn, or his daughter, and they’re both in danger. Right now, our people are feeding into the mesh, as fast as they can. It’s growing. Soon Karlyn will be able to use it, even with his lack of control.”
Lichio paused, thinking about Kare in the palace with access to the Roamer power. He gave Farran a long look, assessing the other man, trying to read him, but it was hard to see past his fixation on Kare. “Can I trust you?”
“Your Emperor does.”
“That’s not what I asked; can I trust you?”
Farran sighed, his swarthy face frustrated. “You don’t understand. We can’t remove our king, we can’t betray our king. If I thought of it, even for a moment, my people would know and they would expel me. When it comes to Karlyn, you can trust me. Can I trust you?”
“Of course you can. I could have got off this planet and saved my ass. I came here instead, because I don’t intend to leave until I have them all with me. Even so, my decision stands. We go for the compound.” Farran went to argue, and Lichio cut him off. “Are you really Kare’s man, and if so, are you with me?”
Farran didn’t meet his eyes and Lichio waited, sure he’d lost the Roamers. Equally sure he wasn’t going to be forced into an attack he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stand over.
The Roamer raised his eyes. “We’re with you. If we take the compound, then will you go for the palace?”
“As soon as I can.” Lichio opened the door. “For now, choose your best pilots: six of them. We’ll use the assault on the compound as a diversion. Get word to Kare – as soon as you can – that if he can get the three of them out of the cells, I will try to lift them out. If he can’t, there is nothing I can do. I don’t have the army, resources or men to assault the city and compound, and I can’t hold Abendau even if I take it – not without holding the desert. But if your pilots are as good as they appear to be, we’ll try a pick-up.” He limped out of the lift and saw Lyle just ahead, talking to a small group of pilots. “Lyle!”
The air-commander turned to him.
“I’m putting the attack back. We move in three hours, now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lichio nodded and made his slow way to the control room and looked at the comms unit. He sat at it, sighing. This was Sonly’s arena, but he had his contacts – he’d have to hope they were enough. He spent a few moments, trying to decide whom to contact first. Not Clorinda. They had too much to gain if Kare lost the empire. He leaned forwards and hit the connect command. “Menl-iar.”
He waited for it to connect. Glancing at the time, he figured he had just under two hours to find out if Kare had any support left. At least he could tell the families the Emperor was alive; that was something.
“Menl-iar embassy, Ambassador Relendor speaking.”
Lichio made a face – Relendor sounded as stuffed-up as he ever did. “Ambassador, this is General Lichio le Payne. I speak on behalf of the Emperor.”
“We heard you had been replaced by Phelps.”
Not yet. “I’m still in place,” said Lichio. “And in command.”
“And the Emperor?” asked Relendor. Lichio was sure he could hear a smirk in his voice. He imagined the other man’s slicked-back hair, his dark glasses hiding his eyes, and pushed away his distaste. He’d deal with whomever he had to.
“The Emperor is alive,” he said.
“And with you?”
Lichio took a deep breath; perhaps if he could seem to be confident and open it might engender some sort of trust. “The former Empress is holding him prisoner, for now.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
Lichio sat back, stretching out his ankle. It was, indeed, inconvenient. “Regarding your mining interests,” he said. “The stability of the realm is threatened...”
His words hung in the air, and the ambassador waited a moment, no doubt ascertaining what level of threat they carried. A moment later, Relendor cleared his throat. He would be fiddling with the infernal paperweight he kept on his desk, tossing it from hand to hand.
“I’m sorry, General,” said the ambassador, after a moment. “I don’t think the New Empire is in place any longer.”
His voice had softened and sounded sincere, chilling Lichio more than the smugness of earlier. Lichio leaned forwards. “Thank you for your time, Ambassador.” His hand hovered over the unit, ready to end the call, but he couldn’t stop the bitterness coming into his voice as he said, “I appreciate it, and I’m sure your lack of loyalty will be noted when the Emperor is released.”
He ended the call and sat back, rubbing his eyes. He was whistling in the dark; Kare’s empire was going down, and he was sitting on the edge of the fall. In a very leaky boat. He glanced to the side, imagined his sister was there, and muttered, “I made a hash of that one, didn’t I?” Thinking of Sonly, he leaned forwards again. Who would she pull on? A slow smile spread over his face.
“Tortdeniel,” he said, and waited for the unit to connect.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The door to the cell opened, its low hum sounding like a growl. Breathe. Kare watched, knowing they were coming for him. He tried to get to his feet, but the spasms across the top of his shoulders, already almost constant, increased when he shifted forwards. He bit down against a yell, his lips raw; he’d been fighting the pain for the last couple of hours. He pulled on the iron restraints, knowing it was useless, and they rubbed against his raw wrists. Beside him, Sonly tensed. At the other side, Kerra held onto his arm, sending a fresh spasm across his back.
The woman at the door handed a document to Sonly.
“Sign it.” The woman’s voice was soft but dangerous, convincing Kare she was a master. Her eyes passed over him, cold and uninterested. She wasn’t for him, then.
Sonly turned the document to the final page, reading it before setting it down.
“I want an assurance. If I get it, I’ll sign,” said Sonly, her voice remarkably strong.
Her master smiled, and Kare’s blood ran cold.
“Your choice, then?” she said.
“No,” said Sonly, and she stood, moving in front of him and Kerra, trying to protect them, he guessed. “Please, no, I can’t.”
Guards stepped forwards, their faces cold, and pushed her to the side. Four of them to shove Sonly, a foot shorter
than any of them, away; it took brave men to do that. Kare tried, again, to free his arms, wanting to fight for her, but there was no give.
She looked at him, and shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Just tell them,” he said, his teeth gritted. “It’s a game, you’re not really choosing.”
“That’s enough.”
Hands grabbed Kare, pulling him roughly to his feet, wrenching Kerra away from him. Cramps made his legs tighten like coils and the muscles in his back and chest bunch. He yelled, and would have fallen but for the two guards supporting him. He took a breath, feeling choked from the collar and panic. Dimly, he was aware Kerra was beside him, guards holding her too, and she was trying to pull against them and get to him. Sonly was looking at them both, her hand to her mouth, her eyes flitting.
“Say it!” he yelled.
The guards jerked his arms up and away from his body, and the pain across his shoulders spread like hot snakes under his skin. He fought to pull away, but they held him firmly. He tried to tell her again, but the words turned to a scream.
“Him,” said Sonly, her voice breaking. “Kare.”
He sucked in a deep breath as he was pulled forwards. He tried to walk, but they didn’t give him time. Behind, Sonly sobbed that she was sorry, she was so sorry, but he couldn’t answer her. He tried to reach into the mesh – if he was going to do something, it needed to be now – but couldn’t find a way past the pain to concentrate. Distantly, he was aware they were bringing Sonly and Kerra.
Two soldiers pulled him down a corridor, into another cell. So familiar, in its own way. Stark walls, nothing to distract the tormented. Cold air that would make vulnerable skin chilled, so the lightest touch sent pain to the bone. His manacles were released, making him yell and arch his back against the pain. They pushed him into a seat, restraining his arms before he’d gained any control over them, and pulled his head back, attaching the collar to the seat back. They took his feet. He tried to kick out, see if he couldn’t at least catch one of the guards securing his legs to the chair, but they held him too firmly. Cold bars encircled his ankles, too.
One of the guards stood and pulled his fist back. “Try to kick me?”
Kare wrenched his head to the side, but the punch caught him on the cheek, along the bone. Kerra shouted “Dad!” and – somehow – he managed not to scream, but grunt instead. His eye began to close.
The room went quiet. Someone was sobbing behind him, and he didn’t know if it was Sonly, or Kerra, or both. There was a soft shuffling noise and hands – old hands, wrinkled – reached over his shoulder, checking his restraints. He knew who it was – who it had to be – but, even so, when the Great Master sat opposite he tensed in terror. Desperately, he pulled against the restraints.
“Look.”
The soft voice cut through his panic and Kare watched as the cloth was swept off a clinical table between them. Arrayed across it were hand clamps, whips, a blowtorch. Every one known intimately. Kare closed his eyes but couldn’t stop his teeth chattering.
“Open them.”
Kare snapped his eyes open at the Great Master’s command. He’d stitch them open; Beck had done it once. They’d burned with the pain; enough that he knew to keep them open and not hide from the horror. He couldn’t face it again. He pulled again at the restraints, knowing the choice wasn’t his, panic giving him strength. It made no difference.
His left hand was lifted and there was nothing he could do to stop a soldier putting the clamp on, crushing the knuckles on his previously broken hand. He groaned as it tightened further.
“Sonly,” said the woman’s voice. “We want you to sign and end this now, for all of you. He’ll die painlessly.”
“A guarantee for my daughter,” said Sonly, her voice shaking.
“You have our word she won’t be hurt.”
They twisted the clamp and sweat broke out across Kare’s brow. He took a deep breath, looked at his tormentor, and squeezed out, “You are a sick, sadistic bastard.”
The Great Master smiled and nodded for another bit of pressure to be added, and a finger snapped – his index one – the noise loud, seeming to echo around the room. Kare screamed, as he’d known he would, and another scream joined his, a pure, high shriek of utter terror: Kerra.
“Sonly, you know what we can do,” said the voice. “You’ve seen what we can do.”
Kare shook his head, but already the clamp was tightening again, the pressure on his ring finger growing. His wedding band pressed down on his finger.
“Nooooo,” he moaned and whether it was to Sonly or his tormentor, he didn’t know. There was another snap and he tried – oh, gods, he tried – not to scream but still it filled the room.
“Stop!” Sonly’s voice rang out. “I’ll sign.”
Kare shook his head, trying to say no. He could hear Kerra crying behind him.
“I’ll sign,” Sonly said again. The pressure on Kare’s hand eased.
“Take the women back to their cell,” said the Great Master. “Make sure she does. If not, ensure I am informed…”
The door opened behind him, and Kare waited, panting through the pain, hoping – grasping at it – that he would follow them, knowing that, even if he did, all he’d have done was push the horror back another day. The door closed behind him. The gleam in the Great Master’s eyes was fanatical, exhilarated.
“You promised,” Kare said, his voice thinner than it should be.
“I lied.”
Kare shook his head, wrenching the skin on his neck. This could not be happening again. He’d sworn they would never take him alive, that he would not face this fate.
“I have a lot planned for you.” The Great Master picked up the blow torch. “My Lady is displeased with you; she asks I show you how much.”
Kare’s whole body spasmed, tight against the restraints, cramping his shoulders, his stomach; everywhere. Black dots danced in front of his eyes, and he managed – just – to take a gulp of air and force it down. This was it: after all he’d gone through, he was still going to die here, in pain, in Abendau. His stomach turned to water; they would leave him nothing. No dignity or salvation.
“There are some things we want to know.” The Great Master fondled the blowtorch.
“Ask,” said Kare, his voice high. “I’ll cooperate.”
“Where is General le Payne?”
They wouldn’t believe him. “I don’t know.”
“Where did you go? You were missing.”
Kare’s mouth clamped shut. He couldn’t tell them what happened with the Roamers. The mesh. He tried to reach it, but it was too far away, beyond his terror.
The Great Master leaned towards him, igniting the blowtorch. He brought it towards Kare’s face and eyes – gods no, please not my eyes – and he started to beg as he had known he would, trying to back away from the heat, but with nowhere to go.
The Great Master tutted. “I thought you knew better. Don’t beg. It’s your master’s choice.”
Kare stopped and the blowtorch was set down.
“Where is Lichio le Payne? Where did you go? Two questions. When I come back, I’ll ask them again. Think about it; you know what we can do.”
Gently, the Great Master touched his scar, the one running down the middle of him, and Kare flinched. He did. No one knew better. He lifted his eyes to the ones of the Great Master; it had been he who’d set the laser and had laughed at his pain.
The tormentors left, the door closing after them. He tried to feel the mesh, but there was nothing there, just him, alone and waiting, too frightened to find his way. He pulled his mind into the part they couldn’t reach, down pathways familiar to him, safe places, and removed himself from the world.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Kerra hunched at the end of the bed, so angry she could barely look at her mum, sitting against the wall as she had earlier. Only this time her dad wasn’t beside her. One part knew it wasn’t her mum�
��s fault, that there was nothing she could do to stop them, but another part…. She’d heard her dad scream, like it was being pulled from the heart of him. His fingers had snapped – she’d heard that, too – and now he was facing it on his own. Mum shouldn’t have chosen either of them.
She bit the nail on her right thumb, remembering her dad’s screams; that could have been her. It still might be. She looked over at her mum, and felt like she hated her – she’d said it would be all right, that she’d fix things – but wanted to cling to her, too, and let her keep her safe.
She pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged them, taking comfort from making herself small, as if being tiny might make a difference. What if they took her mum next and left her here alone? She scrunched even smaller. A soft sound made her look up and she was astonished to see tears rolling down Mum’s cheeks.
Her mum was always composed, always in charge, sure of who she was and what she needed to achieve. Even yesterday in the cell, she’d held Kerra and had been brave. Now she wasn’t doing anything to stop the tears, or wipe them away. It was like she didn’t even know they were there.
“Mum?” said Kerra, and her mum looked at her, her hands clenched in fists in her lap. Her top had slipped off her shoulders and she looked thinner than Kerra could remember her. She tried to smile but her face crumpled and Kerra got up and went to her, reaching out, hugging her – not the other way around – tighter and tighter, trying to stop the shuddering grief running through her.
She loves him. Kerra had never been sure. Last night, she’d lain and listened to their low voices as she dozed off, and it had made her feel safe and special – even in a cell – and she’d wished they could love each other. To see it felt like a miracle. Then she remembered her dad, the breaking fingers, the punch from the guard, and knew the miracle had come too late.
She started to cry, too, wishing it was last week and her dad had said to hell with this, you don’t want it, and neither do I. She wished he’d said okay, don’t worry, I won’t make you have any of it, let’s just go. That he’d put his hand out and taken her to somewhere that wasn’t Belaudii with its sand, and heat, and tribes and its anger, and the thoughts came rushing at her, again and again, until she thought she would explode –
