The Abulon Dance

by Caro Soles

  “You hated my father.”

  “I hated what he stood for, not the man.”

  Luan swallowed hard. “I did not betray him,” he said, his voice breaking.

  “I know that.”

  “Everyone must know!”

  “Tell them. Use the equipment from the Merculian office. It can be adapted quite easily for long range broadcasting. The Kolaris can guide you there through the tunnels under the city.”

  “What tunnels? They’re only stories told to frighten children.”

  “No. There are miles of tunnels down there. They’re used to get to the secret workshops where hundreds of Kolari slaves repair the machinery that runs practically everything in the city that still works. There are people down there who have never seen the sun.”

  “My father knew about this?”

  “He would have told you on your Coming of Age day.”

  Luan shook his head, overwhelmed.

  “Talk to the people,” Marselind said. “Let them hear your dream.”

  “Why would they believe me?” Luan asked. “Why would they pay any attention to someone who is not a Hunter?”

  “You won over the people at the River Camp.”

  “That was different!”

  “You are your father’s son, the rightful heir. Tell them plainly why you went to the mountains. You saved the young Merculian dancer’s life. Tell them about it.” He paused. “If you feel my role in this might compromise you in any way, I will withdraw.”

  Luan turned on him angrily. “You have already compromised me! This is all part of some plot, isn’t it? Someone sent you to seduce me, to get me out of the city? To discredit me!”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You used me! I am nothing to you but a pawn in a game of sexual politics! And I thought you were different.”

  “If you truly feel that way, I will get out of your life, give you a chance to think things over.”

  Luan didn’t answer. He stared ahead of him, unseeing, and wondered if he would ever feel anything again.

  Marselind turned away and walked back into the house.

  For a few moments, Luan stood alone, gazing over the city. It seemed to be washed of color, sepia tinted in the fast-gathering dusk. As he thought of his father’s face, he saw the First Minister, always at his side, that streak of white hair gleaming against the black. It had been that way as long as he could remember, his father and Tquan. Marselind, this rebel soldier, had used him, was trying still to use him. Marselind did not know the inner circle of the Great Chief. The First Minister was trying to hold the country together during this time of upheaval. That was his job. All that Luan needed to do was explain the situation.

  Inside, the others were now gathered around, studying some plans spread out on the table. Luan walked past them and through the door in the wall. Nobody noticed. He followed the narrow corridor to a small door leading to the river. He opened it, waded through the shallow water to dry land, climbed out and stamped his boots on the wooden walk way. He stood for a few moments in the dimness, getting his bearings, then started off in the general direction of the palace. He would talk to the First Minister, and then he would stand the midnight watch with his father’s body, as he should. That duty done, he would find Quetzelan.

  He turned a corner and stopped. Someone was right behind him. Quickly he flattened himself into a doorway. Holding his breath, he waited. Nothing happened. “Who’s there?” he called, his hand on the knife he had never used.

  “Someone has to look after you,” said a voice. It was Xenobar. The Kolari leaned nonchalantly against the corner of the building, a faint smile on his lips.

  Anger and relief flooded though Luan, fighting for control. “I didn’t ask for your protection.” he said.

  “You didn’t have the sense. Where are you going and why?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “If you really are the ‘leader of the future’, as you told us back at the camp, then it is my business. If, on the other hand, that was mere rhetoric….”

  “I meant it. That’s one reason I’m going to talk to the First Minister now.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Why not?” Luan started off briskly down the narrow street. As he rounded the next corner, his head exploded in stars and a searing pain sliced through his side. The breath was knocked out of him. His knees buckled. Eyes stretched wide in astonishment, he clutched at his stomach. Blackness caught him.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Beny gazed at the sleeping face of his jewelled love. Silent tears slid down his cheeks. After a rambling explanation of what had happened, Eulio had tumbled into bed, too exhausted to think of getting out of his ragged dirty clothes. He was asleep almost instantly. Hours passed, and still Beny knelt beside him, holding his hand, almost as if doing penance for what had happened.

  “I shouldn’t have sent you,” Beny murmured, his voice hoarse from the litany. “I should have gone myself. I’ve already made so many diplomatic mistakes, what difference would one more make? I’m a musician! I should have stayed home with my music. Then you would still have your sight!”

  Eulio moaned softly in his sleep and pulled his hand away from Beny’s touch. “I don’t blame you.” Beny got to his feet and paced around the small room, not even seeing the carvings that hung on the walls, or the feathery flowers nodding at the window in the gathering dusk. This mission had been a disaster almost from the start. Even though he realized that much of what had happened was the fault of the original contact team, he still felt the crushing weight of his responsibility in the matter. A man whom he disliked had given up his life so that he might live. The Merculian whom he adored had been blinded trying to do what he should have done himself. Anyone else would have made the right decisions! It was too late to bring back Zox, but it was not too late to try to do something that would help right at least one of the wrongs.

  With a last look at Eulio’s pale face, he opened the door and slipped down the corridor. Back in the main room, voices were raised in argument. Thar-von came over to him at once.

  “More bad news?” asked Beny, watching his face.

  “Luan has disappeared,” Thar-von said quietly. “He may have been killed. We must get back to our quarters at once. It is too dangerous to wait any longer.”

  “This is preposterous!” Beny exclaimed, shocked beyond belief. “Something must be done!”

  “Not by us. Not now.”

  “But we have to help our friends.”

  “First we must be sure who they are,” Thar-von pointed out softly. “Come. The Kolaris will lead us through the tunnels.”

  Xunanda joined them. “In the abandoned tunnels is a small rail car system. We can use that to transport you quickly and safely to the Central Complex.”

  “But Eulio is so tired—” Beny began. He shook his head. At least he was still alive.

  Thar-von cleared his throat. “If you wish, I will carry Eulio. If he would not object to such close contact,” he added quickly.

  Beny smiled. “He’s a Merculian, Von. Of course he won’t mind. Besides, I don’t think he could make it on his own, and I couldn’t carry him far.”

  “It is my pleasure.” Thar-von bowed formally and followed Beny to their room.

  Eulio didn’t even wake up as Thar-von lifted him from the bed and carried him down the long winding stairs hidden between the thick walls of the building. Someone had lighted scores of torches in deference to the Merculians and it was easy to see the way. Triani and Cham walked hand in hand, Cham stumbling now and then, but refusing any help from those around him. No one said a word. Thanks to the boxes on wheels that served as a primitive transportation system, they arrived at the Merculian Festival office with surprising ease. The dusty winding tunnel came up outside the back door to Beny’s office. So this is how Akan got in without being seen, Beny thought to himself, looking around. And then he felt it. There was no sign of his visitor, but Beny knew he was still t
here. Waiting. Hastily Beny stumbled after the others, carefully closing his office door behind him.

  When Eulio was once again asleep in his own bed, watched over by Dhakan and the giant dog, Beny went back to his office and looked around. For a few moments, he just stood there, listening, every fiber of his being intent. “I know you’re here,” he said at last. He went over to his desk. As he sat down, his foot touched flesh. Fear coursed through him.

  “How could you tell? I just this minute arrived!” The First minister swept in without ceremony and threw himself down opposite him.

  Beny froze. He felt a hand on his ankle and shuddered.

  “Are you all right?”

  Beny nodded, afraid to trust his voice.

  Tquan looked exhausted. A wide piece of cloth bound his left forearm and there were scrapes and bruises on his face. “What a day! I find it hard to believe everything that has happened!”

  “I am very sorry for your loss,” Beny said carefully, unsure what the proper formula would be here. “It is a bad time to switch leaders,” Tquan agreed. “But at least we have the man who did it in custody. A rogue android. Not surprising, I suppose. I came to make sure you were all right, Ambassador. We can’t have our honored guests put through any more.”

  “As you can see, I am fine. But you—you are wounded?”

  Tquan glanced at his bandaged arm and shrugged. “A flesh wound only. I regret that I was too far back in the procession to be in the direct line of fire. I tried—but the crush was too great.”

  “I thought I saw you pushing forward.”

  Tquan shrugged again. “But you, you are amazing,” he remarked. “The last time I saw you, you were being abducted by rogue androids. What happened?”

  “Well, I did so want to see the procession,” Beny began, his voice shaking. “I should have paid more attention to your warning, I realize that now.” The First Minister merely grunted. “Anyway, I saw the Chief and then—honestly, I don’t know what exactly happened. The Serpian who was with me kept me from harm. He was…killed.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but you were warned! You should have listened!”

  “Well, yes, I know. But it seemed so safe—”

  “Your Serpian companion found out just how safe it was!”

  Beny swallowed painfully and blinked back tears. He clutched the arms of his chair tightly. The First Minister sprang to his feet. “I must go. There are a million things to attend to before the reins of power are once more in firm hands.”

  “Luan will succeed his father?”

  The First Minister look down at him and shook his head. “It saddens me to see the end of a great line of leaders, but it happens. I warned you about him, Excellency. Much as I loved him, he has always been a dark horse. Now he has shown his true colors, first running off with his rebel lover, then managing to get himself killed. In a way, that makes things much simpler.”

  Beny swallowed. “Then it will be Quetzelan?”

  The First Minister swung around and impaled Beny with a black stare that alarmed the Merculian. “And why would you think that?”

  “Well, ah, I don’t know, exactly. I just thought…someone said—”

  “Obviously you were mislead, Excellency.” He smiled, all easy charm again. “Rest assured that I will continue the Great Chief’s work with the Inter-Planetary Alliance. It will take some time for things to calm down again. Please be careful. Take my advice this time.”

  “Thank you. I will.” Beny stood as his guest left the room. Then he collapsed back into the chair and activated the locks. For the first time, he looked under the desk. “You can come out now. It’s safe.”

  Akan crawled out from his cramped hiding place and straightened up slowly. His face was ashen with strain. “Tquan is a teller of half-truths and outright lies,” he said. “He is the one who set up the assassination with Norh, and he planned to blame it on the Kolaris, as you just heard. He paid two Kolari marksmen to do it. But then Luan played right into his hands by going off with Marselind. It was a perfect set-up. Treason for love.” He winced and lowered his tall frame into a chair. Beny noticed the top joint of his fourth finger was missing.

  “You are a Hunter?”

  “Yes. Then I met Yonan and was won over by his ideas, his wonderful vision. But the more I stayed in the hills, the farther away it all seemed. Then dissension set in. Splinter groups formed. There was more and more killing that accomplished nothing. When I found out about the plot to kill the Chief, I knew the First Minister was behind it, working with Norh. He must have promised him the moon and the stars. All he will get is execution. So much for daring to dream without the gift.” Akan lapsed into silence.

  Beny got up and poured drinks for them both. “I haven’t been much help so far,” he remarked, handing Akan a glass. “You made the effort. And you lost one of your men in the process.”

  Beny nodded and took a long drink of the Merculian sherry. He was exhausted and it took all his concentration to keep the glass from shaking. “Is there any way to prove what you have told me?”

  “If there were, I wouldn’t be here,” snapped his guest.

  “You said there were two Kolaris involved. Tquan only mentioned one. Perhaps we can find the other one.”

  “Just how do you propose to do that?”

  “Marselind, perhaps, or Xunanda. There’s a network, if we can let them know about this.”

  “Xunanda? I’ve heard about her.” The color had come back into his face at the thought of action. “Where can I find her?”

  Beny tried to describe what he could remember of his journey through the crowds and tumult. Then he remembered the map. “I can give you a map,” he said, reaching into a drawer, “and a com device so we can communicate.”

  “Why are you doing all this?”

  “I owe it to Luan,” Beny said simply. “It’s the least I can do to honor his memory.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  The flames crackled and leapt against the brilliant hardness of the noon sky as thick ribbons of smoke spiraled lazily upwards. From the huge crowd surrounding the funeral pyre came a steady, low keening as the mourners swayed gently shoulder to shoulder, causing a ripple of motion. The tremendous heat from the flames had forced them back, leaving a wide, uneven circle around the towering pyre and the peculiar twisting metal stairway-like construction that snaked around and over it.

  Beny stood with Thar-von in the front ranks of the crowd. The alien scene shimmered in front of him, made even more unreal by the heat, the roar of the fire, and the strange, sharp smell of the spices and incense burned as part of the ceremony. The very idea of a state funeral was alien to him. Back home on Merculian, saying goodbye to a loved one was a very private affair. Celebration on a grand scale was for life, not death, and a party would be held the following year on the date of a loved one’s birth. Beny realized that this would probably seem barbarous to these people. He looked around at the mourning crowd and wondered at this public outpouring of emotion. How much was mere ritual and how much genuine? Who, outside of the family, had really cared for the Chief? And yet everyone looked as if he had lost his best friend, even the hundreds of armed Imperial Hunters who mingled with the crowd.

  Beny was the only Merculian there. He had insisted that the others stay inside for their own safety, in spite of reassurances from the First Minister that all was now under control. He would have liked to have Eulio beside him, but Eulio had flatly refused to get out of bed for any reason whatsoever, announcing firmly that his job was finished. His life was over. He wasn’t needed any more.

  “But I need you!” cried Beny pleadingly. “Besides, the diagnosis is temporary trauma blindness, Eulio. This will pass.” But his lover turned away and buried his face in the pillow. Beny stared at the empty throne-like chair just visible through the smoke at one side of the circle. Luan should be sitting in that chair, Beny thought bitterly. Tears spilled down his cheeks. The boy had made a tremendous effort to help. He had kept his promi
se to bring Eulio back again, not quite sound but at least safe. And now there was no way Beny could repay his debt, except to try to get behind the lies and rumors spread by the First Minister’s broadcasts, the hypocritical sorrow behind the words that branded Luan a traitor. It wasn’t true! And with any luck, they would soon prove it! The marksman who had been taken into custody was dead, supposedly killed by another enraged prisoner before he could be properly interrogated. Now Beny had to count on Akan. The man had been in touch, but so far all he could report was that the other Kolari marksman was in hiding.

  A high-pitched shriek jerked him back to the scene in front of him. Three Imperial Hunters rushed forward, holding short lances with decorated streamers of paper attached to the sharp end. With a blood-curdling yell, they leapt into the lower part of the fire and buried the points of their lances in the coals. At once, the paper caught fire as blue flames raced to devour it. Thin spirals of colored smoke curled upwards.

  “They are sending good wishes to guide their Chief on his last journey,” explained the Hunter who stood beside Beny.

  The Merculian nodded, incapable of speech. No sooner had he recovered, then the scene was repeated by another threesome—then another, and another, until the thin membranes of Beny’s ears were vibrating painfully from the noise and the stress of watching the young men endanger their lives so recklessly. He was beginning to see why the women were nowhere in sight. He had been told they remained wrapped in their red veils of mourning after participating in the Preparation Ceremonies. He wished he were with them. Thar-von’s navy blue eyes were following the ritual, but he was thinking about Talassa-ran Zox. He had ordered the flag of the Inter-Planetary Alliance to be lowered to half mast for his Serpian colleague but even this recognition had been taken away. Everyone would assume the flag honored the Great Chief. Talassa-ran’s entire life was the history of a man whose search for recognition always just missed the mark, a pattern which eventually lead to bitterness and vengeance. But he was not an evil man. At the end he had made the grand gesture of atonement and Thar-von was determined that he would go home to Serpianus with his honor intact. Beny had agreed to keep part of the story a secret, realizing that if Talassa-ran had not led Triani and Cham into the trap, there would have been another Merculian hostage. There was nothing to be gained by discrediting Thar-von’s countryman.