The professor grinned at her. “You’ve nothing to worry about. We’ve all been down there many times. The tunnel is supported. We’ve shored it up.”
She scratched her nose. Holes in the ground were too much like cellars. The memory of underground darkness still haunted her dreams. Let alone the far more recent incident with Hanestran’s group.
Lakshmi pushed past her. “I’ll go first.” She almost abseiled down the rungs and turned, gazing up, her lips twisted in a mocking smile. Bitch.
Asbarthi followed, smooth and confident.
Unwyn climbed down next, negotiating the ladder with easy assurance. Morgan waited until he was at the bottom, looking up at her. She took a deep breath and swung herself out onto the ladder. Both feet on a rung. Well done. She started down, one foot at a time, forcing herself to breathe evenly. The ladder wasn’t so bad; it was just a ladder. Around her the walls sagged against wire netting strung along solid uprights. A pebble fell, leaving a trickle of dust from the place it escaped. It seemed to take a long time before she heard the clink as it hit the bottom.
A few more steps and Morgan knew she was in a much wider space, descending into a void. Another rung and another. Heart thudding she looked down. Only a few more steps. Unwyn placed a reassuring hand on her leg. “You’re doing well.”
She settled her foot to the floor and let out a breath. Just as well the place was lit. Above her the soft light in the tent formed a circular symbol of escape. She felt like a crookan at the bottom of a well. Only this wasn’t a well. She stood in a large, high-ceilinged room, its roof supported on a line of central pillars. The dig party had set up lights but not enough to illuminate the whole space. Shadows lurked in corners, behind pillars, under overhangs.
“Okay?” Unwyn’s voice broke into her reverie.
“Yep. What now?” Morgan forced herself to speak calmly. No time now for schoolgirl silliness.
“I usually have a team working down here, but we’ve given them a few days off.” Unwyn strode to the middle of a tiled floor and, standing with legs apart, swept outstretched arms in a circle. “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”
Morgan had to admit it was. She stepped forward, multiple shadows moving with her, cast by six overhead lights. Above the canopy of brilliance darkness loomed. She concentrated on the walls, gleaming with color. Paintings, fresh and vivid as the day they were created. One wall showed the view down the mountainside and over the plain, remarkably similar to what she’d seen herself. Others showed people going about their daily lives; fishermen on a river, farmers tilling fields. Further away the stains and dirt of years had not been washed away, but these restored sections were evocative depictions of reality long gone.
Asbarthi drew her over to the mural of a shop-front. A man full of pride stood before the entrance, almost inviting them inside. The windows displayed merchandise—foodstuffs and wine, household goods, clothing. People could be glimpsed inside, doing their business. A woman and child, their backs to the viewer, stood on the pavement before the window. Other people were captured, frozen in a moment of time as they walked past.
“See this?” Asbarthi said, sweeping his hand up to the sign above the door. The letters were a little bit different but they could still be made out. ‘Asbarth’. “He may well have been a distant ancestor. Now come with me.” He almost dragged her across the floor, his boots ringing in the silence. “This is the council.”
Eleven people, sitting in a row along a bench. The seat in the center was more elaborate, the man’s robes a little more ornate. As Asbarthi had said, probably a council meeting and the man in the middle was the same man who stood outside the shop.
“Yes, yes,” Morgan agreed. Something plinked on the floor in front of her and she jumped. A pebble. She stared up past the lights, wondering how safe that ceiling really was.
“Now then, did you notice?”
“What?” Her head jerked up, nerves jangling. “That it’s the same man? Yes.”
“Not just that,” Lakshmi said, so close behind Morgan that she had to suppress the start. “A couple have round eyes.”
Yes, this man here and the second from the end. Round pupils. Human eyes. She noticed Unwyn rub his hand across his mouth. He didn’t seem altogether comfortable.
The ground moved. A soft rumble filled the chamber. The ladder danced a brief jig, pebbles clattered to the floor. Morgan’s legs turned to jelly.
“You’ve made your point,” she said. “I believe you. Can we get out of here now? I’m feeling a bit faint.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Her heart thumping against her ribs, Morgan scrambled up the ladder and out into the blessed air. The roof of the tent flapped reassuringly in the breeze.
She gulped air into her lungs, steadying her breathing. Stupid. She’d carried on like a child, just as she had with Hanestran and his people in that cellar. But this… She’d have to deal with it. Some time.
“Suri?” Unwyn’s hand touched her sleeve.
She looked up into his concerned stare. He must have rushed up after her. “Sorry. I’m a bit bad with caves.”
“It was a minor tremor. Nothing to worry about, rest assured.” He took her arm. “Come on. That’s enough. Sur Asbarthi has made his point, I think.”
She let him lead her to the skyvan and help her into the front seat. Lakshmi tossed an impatient head, contempt beaming off her. And truth to tell, right now she couldn’t blame her.
The return trip to Unwyn’s base camp was made in silence. The sun rode high in the sky but clouds had begun to gather around the mountain tops as the skyvan landed. Morgan alighted and straightened her back. So they’d caught her at a moment of weakness. But that was over. She deliberately caught Lakshmi’s eye as they crossed to the waiting skimmer, but the woman spared her little more than a glance.
“Thanks so much, Raj,” she said. “I really enjoyed myself.”
Morgan noted the slight emphasis on ‘I’. Bitch.
Unwyn bowed. “My pleasure, Suri. I hope to be able to show you more later.”
Morgan suppressed the snort. She could just imagine what Lakshmi would want him to show her. Not artifacts, she’d bet on that. Asbarthi appeared beside her, ushering her into the skimmer. Lakshmi hurried to follow with a last wave to Unwyn. The vehicle rose in a flurry of dust and started the steep descent down the mountain.
Asbarthi leaned toward Morgan, his eyes burning with passion. “Are you convinced, Suri? All we want is to be able to rule ourselves.”
“I’ve never had a problem in that regard. I’m not interested in politics. Not at all.” And wasn’t that the truth? At home she didn’t even bother to vote.
“We of Bunyada always believed that some of our founders had round eyes like yours. I myself had obtained old fragments of pottery depicting beings with strange eyes. We don’t know what happened to those people but now Professor Unwyn has provided evidence confirming our beliefs. The Mirka have no right to rule.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” ‘Who cares’ didn’t seem appropriate.
“The point, you see, is that the Mirka who rule this sector of space will try to prevent us winning back our freedom. With force.”
“You mean the local Governor?”
“Governor Murag has a powerful presence here on Krystor,” said Lakshmi. “He enforces a curfew, makes us all carry identity cards which must be produced on demand. They exercise control over our business concerns, prevent us from trading with whoever we wish, dominate the planetary government with their own choices.”
Morgan nodded. What could she say? She’d seen plenty of such instances in the Coalition, where despots ruled with brute force.
“We can defeat Murag,” Asbarthi said, his voice soft. “But we need a cause, something the people will rally around.”
“Surely freedom is enough?” Morgan said.
“It has been tried before, on other planets, but always, the Mirka use force to defeat us. They say it is their role to rule, that
we Vesha have no right; what is more, we do not have the skills. That supposition is what we must rectify.”
“And that’s why the murals are so important?” Morgan said.
“Correct. We can show people that we were able to rule in our own right, that the present situation is more habit than fact.”
Judging by the set of his jaw, the knitted brows, this was something the man cared about. Deeply. She didn’t care how the manesa ruled themselves; that was their problem. She turned away, gazing out the window as she chewed her thumbnail.
The skimmer sped through the forest along a tree-lined road. Dark green foliage hung down from limbs that sagged down, rather than reached up. The trees thinned as the vehicle descended and as the first houses of the village came into view the driver slowed.
She pressed toward the window, anxious for a closer look at the town and its people. The skimmer halted at a crossing as children dressed in green uniforms surged across the road. She processed a kaleidoscope of images; mothers greeted their children, a few young lads slouched off, kicking stones. A boy holding a ball ran, leading some companions to a cleared area. A bevy of girls gathered into a knot, giggling behind their hands. All so normal, so recognizable. Even the one or two single, aloof children, going about their own lonely business.
The door of the vehicle slid open.
“Why are you—” Lakshmi began.
A man in a black uniform leaned in, grinning. “Your ID cards, please.”
“I am Hai Suri Lakshmi Devag—”
“I know who you are.” The smile was gone. “Out, all of you. Come on, move.” He stepped back, brandishing a hand weapon.
Asbarthi pushed Lakshmi, a gentle shove just with his fingers, as much to shut her up as anything. Bristling, nostrils flared, she stepped out. Asbarthi followed and Morgan followed him. The three stood in a line, facing the man and his female companion. She’d drawn her weapon, too, an unpleasant smile on her lips. Anger seared up Morgan’s backbone. She hated people like this, gloating over their power, using their weapons to frighten.
“ID cards,” the man demanded, thrusting his chin toward Lakshmi.
She leant back, away from him. “You’ll hear about this. My father won’t—.”
He grabbed her arm, swung her around and shoved her over the vehicle’s body. “Save your mouth. I’ll find it myself.”
For a moment Morgan thought Asbarthi would intervene, but a snapped word and the ugly muzzle of the woman’s weapon was enough to dissuade him. He watched in smoldering impotence as the man frisked Lakshmi, his hands personal and probing, grabbing at her breast and her groin before he finally removed her wallet from her pocket and checked the ID card inside.
When he stepped back, Lakshmi tried to straighten. A harsh thrust between the shoulder blades jerked her back to where she came from. “You can get up when I say so.”
High-handed bastard. He knew who Lakshmi was. Why this charade? She’d had a passing thought of making contact with these people, to see if she could escape. But not with these animals.
“All right. Stand up.” He turned to Morgan, leaving Lakshmi to stand upright. “ID.”
Keeping her eyes downcast, she fumbled in her pocket, pulled out the card and handed it to him.
“Look at me.” A stinging blow to the side of her head signaled she’d taken too long. Morgan longed to send a kick into the bastard’s stomach, but she couldn’t beat a manesa in a fight. Too quick, too strong, too flexible. Her heart thundering, she squinted up into the fellow’s unblinking yellow eyes as if the light hurt.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he demanded.
“Nothing. I...”
“The girl is my niece,” Asbarthi said. “She’s only just been released from hospital. She’s suffered from river fever and we’ve come here so she can convalesce. The eyes thing is an unusual side-effect of the medication.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. Thrusting the card back at Morgan he took a step backwards. So did the woman.
“She shouldn’t be out in public at all,” the woman said, eyes glittering.
“She wouldn’t have been, had you not stopped us.” Asbarthi’s tone was apologetic, conciliatory. “We took her out for a drive in the country. A treat, you understand.”
“Oh, yes.” The woman stared down her nose at them, suspicious. “What about her? Or yourself? Not worried you’d get it?”
“We have been immunized.” Asbarthi’s eyebrows arched. “You have not?”
The man pushed him hard toward the skimmer. “Go on, go. And keep her off the streets.” He pointed a stiff finger at Morgan.
“Of course. And thank you.” Asbarthi took Morgan’s elbow and led her to the vehicle. “Get back in, my dear. We’ll get you home.”
Morgan swallowed her anger and complied, stumbling a little to reinforce the concept of recent illness. Lakshmi followed her, barely containing her fury. Asbarthi threw her a stare as he sat down next to her. The door closed and the skimmer rose.
“Arrogant, pestilential Mirka filth,” Lakshmi raged. “Did you see what he did to me? Groped me. As if I was some sort of… of whore.”
“You see what we put up with, Suri?” Asbarthi said. “The rudeness is of itself inexcusable. But there’s no point complaining to the Governor. We will be told they’re just doing their job.” He was matter-of-fact, his anger caged.
“I hate that.” Rage boiled in Morgan’s gut. “I hate people who abuse power. They’re no different to you and me. But they have weapons.” Her own venom surprised her.
The skimmer sank to the ground with a sigh of exhaust gas. Morgan hadn’t even realized they were back at the mansion. A servant leapt forward to open the doors.
“If you’ll come this way, Suri,” Asbarthi said, arm outstretched. “It’s time we had a private chat.”
He led her to a paved patio where a table and chairs stood under the cascading branches of a blossom-laden tree, its scent heavy in the warm air. Water burbled into a lily pond, cascading from the statue of a woman holding a jug.
Asbarthi pulled back a chair and sat down beside her. “Will you help us? Help us to win our freedom?”
“What does that entail?”
“As I said. You and Sur Jones will be the returned Orionar bringing our vision of a free and happy people, able to rule themselves and live in harmony.”
One thing about her silver eyes—he wouldn’t be able to fathom what she might be thinking. At least it was beginning to make sense. They wanted a figurehead, a mythical icon to lead a crusade. Good grief. All she needed was a blazing sword and a flying beast to ride.
“Just think about it.” Smiling, he spread his hands. “All you have to do is speak. We’ll write the speeches. You simply say the words.” He leaned over the table, voice conspiratorially low. “Of course, you’ll have all the accoutrements. Jewelry, beautiful clothes; as much wealth as you can imagine. And you’ll ride through cheering crowds in an open vehicle.”
“And that’s all I have to do? Just put on a show?”
“That’s all.”
Riding through cheering crowds in an open vehicle she could do without, but she’d always hated despotic authority, the power of the admirals and the petty demagogues in the Coalition. This Murag fellow fitted the bill. What did she really know about this society and how it worked? Only what the military had told her. Whatever else she might think about Ravindra, he was a despot, an autocrat. Sure, these people would be replacing a military autocracy with an aristocracy but that wasn’t a bad thing. In time, the people could take control for themselves if they wanted to. The Yogina could wait. For a little while.
She met Asbarthi’s gaze. “All right.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Are you ready?” Asbarthi looked Jones and Morgan up and down, examining them as he might pieces of art.
“Sure,” Morgan said. “I just stand there and smile while Jones makes a speech.” Jones stood there grinning like a vid star. He was enjoying this, no doubt
.
“Remember, Suri, it’s only to make the point. You don’t have to believe it. We just make it convincing.”
She felt like a decoration for a shopping mall, all tricked out in a white and gold gown, a tiara glittering in her hair. They’d sent a couple of young women to dress her up, under Indira’s careful supervision.
“I won’t be willing to play dress-ups for long, Asbarthi. It’s not what I do. Just remember that,” she said.
“Understood. But it is important, Suri. Appearances are vital at this point.” The lines in Asbarthi’s face were rigid, reflecting his tension. Behind him Lakshmi leant, arms folded, against the wall, a superior smirk on her face. She swallowed her irritation. Just a first class bitch, the lovely Lakshmi.
Morgan followed Jones, Asbarthi and Lakshmi down the long, curved staircase down into the hall. Hai Sur Devagnam and his wife, resplendently over-dressed, waited for them, faces up-turned. Morgan walked slowly, conscious of the hem around her feet. It wouldn’t do to trip and clatter down the staircase in a cascade of expensive cloth.
“You look wonderful,” Devagnam said, his teeth gleaming against his dark skin. Turning to his wife, he added, “You did a magnificent job, my dear.”
Lakshmi rolled her eyes.
“Come along, people.” Asbarthi extended an arm to gather them all up. “We have a meeting to attend.”
The skimmer drove up to the front porch. Morgan sat with Indira and Jones on one side, while Lakshmi squeezed between Asbarthi and her father.
No-one spoke. All Morgan knew was that they were going to the home of somebody called Mellnar who was also a Bunyadan. Which meant, as Ravindra had told her, a rich Vesha merchant prince.
The skimmer slipped out into the road and headed off, easing quietly through the deserted village. Not even the security people manned the silent streets but Morgan glimpsed lights in windows. Then the town disappeared behind them. The skimmer sped on through the darkness.
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