by D. D. Chant
“No.”
It was Astra who spoke. Her tone was calm and collected, but her hands twisted together restlessly.
“It isn’t safe; we have to take him with us.”
Ceadron gave Ben the once over again.
“He’ll slow us down; it would be better to leave him here.”
“If we leave him here, he will be killed. He knows too much.” Astra paused, her brow wrinkling as she thought. “Ladron will probably blame his death on us, and use it to force the Free Nation into signing the treaty.”
“We can’t take him with us either; Ladron will say we took him as a hostage,” returned Uri Va Dic Toban. “We could drop him off at the hospital?” offered Ceadron.
Astra shook her head.
“You don’t understand. His eating nuts this morning wasn’t an accident: I made sure everyone in the kitchens knew about his allergies.” She looked from her stepfather to her eldest stepbrother. “Ladron planned this: he wants Ben dead.”
For a moment the room was silent, and then Ceadron leaned forward, grabbing Ben’s arm, and lifting him over his shoulder.
“There’s no time for this; we have to go.” He turned, shifting Ben’s weight. “Balak has the truck waiting for us out back.”
The urgency of his actions communicated itself to the others, and they followed him out through the kitchen and into the garden. They stopped at the shoulder-high wall that cut off the garden from the street the other side, and Ceadron let out a low whistle. A few moments later, Balak’s head appeared over the top of the wall.
“Here.” Ceadron heaved Ben upward, and flung him so he lay half over the wall. Leda winced as Balak dragged him over the other side, and the dull thud of flesh hitting concrete broke the silence.
A moment later Ceadron was on the wall, seated astride, so he could help Petta to scramble over. Astra, Leda, and Penn made it over unassisted and, reaching the other side, clambered into the Mark 5L Pathmaker that stood waiting.
Ben had been laid out over the back seat, and Leda lifted his head and shoulders before sliding into the seat next to him. She cradled his head in her lap as Ceadron climbed into the passenger seat and told Balak to drive.
“Where are we going?”
It was Penn’s question. He was sitting forward in his seat, straining against his seat belt.
“The borderlands,” answered Balak.
“And then?”
Ceadron and Balak exchanged a look.
“Then we go to the only place Councillor Ladron can’t reach.”
“You plan to enter the Una Strongholds.” Astra’s voice was low, a statement not a question. “You will not be welcomed.”
“We aren’t exactly welcome here, Astra,” returned Balak drily.
Astra held Petta closer, smoothing the heavy fall of hair from the girls face, and rested her cheek against her hair.
“How did you know, Ceadron?” asked Leda.
“Know what?”
“That we were in danger.”
“Councillor Sendel found out that Councillor Ladron had ordered the death squad, and he told Narim.”
“And Narim told you?”
“Of course he did, he’s been our friend for years; we started in the corps. at the same time,” Ceadron turned a little in his seat. “Narim has always been good to Astra. Do you really think he'd do nothing when he knew we were all in trouble?”
Leda smiled gently, raising her hand in a gesture of appeal.
“Siding with us in private is one thing, Cead. I just never thought that he would endanger his position. He is very much like his father in that respect; principles are all very well so long as they don’t block the path to power.”
For a moment there was silence.
“You underestimate him, Leda, it’s a habit of yours. You’re too quick to judge people for their actions, without knowing the reasons they have chosen to take a certain path. You prefer to see them as lacking.”
“Most of the time they are,” answered Leda smoothly.
“For someone so clever, how do you always miss the point?” muttered Ceadron irritably.
Leda didn’t answer, but looked down at the still unconscious Ben. Most of his face was ashen, but an angry red rash had materialised on his neck. It stood out raw against his pale face. His breathing was still a little laboured, and his skin was hot and clammy where it touched hers. She reached out, smoothing the hair back from his face.
“They’ll say we’re traitors, won’t they?” she asked quietly. “They’ll tell everyone that we’re holding him hostage.”
No one answered her. They all knew that it was true, but somehow putting it into words made it seem more real, more frightening.
Leda stroked Ben’s cheek. She had pulled him into this, a stranger, a man she hardly knew. She had dragged him into this mess, endangering his life. She wondered briefly at the stubbornness that had pushed her to do such thing. If they didn’t make it to the borderlands they would all die, Ben too. Councillor Ladron would never let him live, he knew too much.
For a moment she felt the panic of regret that she had started them all on this course, but she stamped it out. It was too late to change what she had done, and regret was of no use. Besides they were unworthy thoughts, selfish even.
If she had done nothing she would have lived her life out in peace, but Astra would have paid for that peace with her freedom.
Leda shuddered. Astra had never spoken of her duties at Government Building, but Leda knew Corbani Va Dic Ladron well enough to be certain that she was made as miserable as possible. One thing that she did know was that he had never lifted a hand to her sister. Astra had told her so once, with a wondering kind of fear, as though the fact that he hadn’t scared her more than if he had.
Leda looked to where Astra sat, curved slightly to one side so that she could still hold Petta in her arms. Her face was calm, the hand that rhythmically stroked Petta’s hair was steady, but she was still as white as when she had walked into the kitchen and found Ben there.
She looked ill, worse than Leda had ever seen her before. Leda couldn’t understand it. They were heading to freedom, Astra was leaving the chains she had spent most of her life in behind.
So what was she afraid of?
Chapter Eleven
The Una
The sound was clear and pure, strangely captivating. It whispered across the air with the cold beauty of a frost. The man moved slowly at first, every figure of the exercise filled with control, with the impression of strength.
The rhythm changed, it was never constant but flowed, not a collection of movements but rather an endless and graceful dance. The man turned lifting his arm, and moved it sinuously, the rapid motion rippling down the sword and making it zing again.
He turned, every step sure, and taking the sword in both hands brought it to one side at eye level. He held it parallel to the floor for a few moments, before releasing it with one hand and rotating his wrist. The sword cut through the air with a whispering rush, and spinning quickly, he rocked backward on to his left leg.
Time passed, and still he continued, but somehow the dance had changed. It was still beautiful, but now also deadly. The pace increased, each stroke became more threatening than the last, the glint of the blade more menacing.
Yet still the tempo increased until the man moved with a breathless rapidity that mesmerised.
And then quite suddenly it was over. With a yell of aggression he brought his sword slicing downward, the full force of his strength behind it, stopping just short of the ground.
For a few moments he remained still, his breath coming raggedly.
“Your practice showed much anger, much aggression Kai.” The old man who had been watching twirled his cane between his fingers. “Who were you imagining your opponent to be? Councillor Ladron? Or maybe her?”
Kai turned slowly, and made his way toward the table where Elder Headman Amajit sat. He bowed formally, showing the respect due an older man.
Elder Headman Amajit chuckled.
“It’s good to know that I can still approach with stealth despite my advanced years.”
He watched as Kai poured water from the jug on the table into the waiting glasses, and passed one to him.
“I thought of neither,” returned the young man smoothly.
Elderman Di Ye continued to watch him with appraising eyes.
“Your memory is faulty, Kai. I told you when you were very young that I would always know when you were lying. Did you not believe me?”
Kai perched on the edge of the table, and considered his glass.
“What does it matter what I thought?” he shrugged at last.
Elderman Di Ye shook his head.
“Hate is poison, Kai, you must rid yourself of its destructive influence.” Elderman Di Ye tapped his cane on the floor as if to drive his point home.
“My grandmother was particularly fond of this saying, ‘a little leaven will ferment the whole lump’. Do you know what that means?”
Kai thought for a few moments before shaking his head.
“It means that your hate will fester and spread through you, eating away at everything that is good, and leaving nothing but bitterness.”
Elder Headman Amajit watched Kai’s face for any change of expression but the young man gave nothing away.
“Do you really believe this can ever end if we hate the Tula?”
“Then should we love them?” asked Kai. “They try to kill us, demand that we change our way of life, yet you say we shouldn’t hate them?”
“That is precisely what I say,” answered Elder Headman Amajit simply. “By all means hate what they do, but not them. If we hate them there can never be peace between us.”
“Then must I love Councillor Ladron too?”
Elderman Di Ye’s cane rose swiftly, and hit Kai across the leg with surprising force.
“You are not stupid, Kai, do not pretend to be less intelligent than God made you.”
“Ouch!”
Kai rubbed his stinging limb only for Elderman Di Ye to cane his hand sharply.
“You should not speak foolish words, there is no place for stupidity in the mind of a Headman.”
Kai looked up from the red mark that lined the back of his hand.
“Sometimes I think that you don’t like me, Elderman. That you are intent on forcing me to be someone other than I am. Is my true self so full of fault that you cannot be fond of me?”
“Why should I like your faults? I am neither your mother nor your wife that I should overlook such imperfections.” Elder Headman Di Ye Uel Ne Amajit stamped his cane again. “It is as my grandmother used to say: ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’.”
Kai choked incredulously.
“When have you ever spared the rod?”
“I was never so unwise,” returned Elderman Di Ye pointedly. “It must have been your parents, and do not be defiant!”
This time the cane caught Kai on the knee before he could slip out of reach around the side of the table.
Elderman Di Ye watched in satisfaction as Kai rubbed the offended area vigorously.
“Why do you only ever pick on me?” he muttered, aggrieved.
Elderman Di Ye chuckled.
“Who told you that? I still have to reprimand your father on occasion, although the times are becoming less frequent.”
Kai paused, momentarily diverted.
“With a cane?”
Elderman Di Ye smiled, and shook his head.
“No one is ever too old for a good caning,” he returned. “But your father is a good boy: I haven’t had to cane him in years.”
Elder Headman Di Ye looked over the man in front of him again. Kai had removed his waistcoat and was wearing the black trousers and shirt of a soldier. The usual gold embroidery, to show his status as an Apprentice Headman, was missing on the waistcoat neatly folded on the table. Only the blue sash around his waist declared to all that he was of the family line of Sen.
“Why does she anger you so much?” probed Elderman Di Ye.
Kai stiffened, and the old man pressed on.
“Is your pride so badly wounded that you cannot see anything else?”
Kai flinched from the words as though they touched a particularly raw nerve. Elderman Di Ye leaned forwards, sensing his advantage.
“Tell me, Kai, that I've not wasted all these years upon a fool who cannot see past wounded pride?”
“Pride? I wasn’t aware that I had any pride left to wound.”
Elder Headman Amajit flexed his fingers around his cane, looking as though he wished Kai was still within reach.
“I never did have time for self pity, Kai, and neither do you. What is your first duty as an Apprentice Headman?”
“To serve and protect my people.”
“At what cost?”
“At any cost.”
“Precisely. Even at the cost of your pride, Kai Uel Ne Sen,” stated Elderman Di Ye.
They were silent, Kai gazing into the depths of his glass without expression and Elderman Di Ye watching the dark head for some sign of understanding. When Kai finally spoke it was quietly, his words clipped and precise.
“I have not, and never will allow my people to suffer for the sake of my pride. I have always seen to my obligations however distasteful they may have been to me.”
“Rem is a distasteful obligation to you?” enquired Elderman Di Ye.
“Yes, he was at first, how could he be anything else?” The frank honesty of Kai's words made his reply all the more shocking. “It was only after I knew him that I ceased to see him as such.”
Kai shifted awkwardly in the silence that followed. Elder Headman Amajit knew that he was uncomfortable with his confession. It was not Kai’s way to expose himself, and allow others to see his innermost thoughts.
“Have you never thought, Kai, that perhaps it could be the same with her?”
Elderman Di Ye saw the flicker of surprise pass over Kai's features, and stood. He had done all he would be able to do today. Kai had something to think about that he had not considered before. He stood slowly, leaning heavily on his stick.
“You’re leaving Elderman Di Ye?” Kai’s question was absent, as though his mind was focused on the words that had passed between them.
“Yes, I have said that which I came to say. Now I want your promise that you will think on our discussion.”
Kai nodded and bowed respectfully.
Elder Headman Amajit left the boy to his own thoughts. As much as he wished to help, he knew that the battle that raged within Kai was not one he could help with.
Kai needed to face it alone. It would be the making, or the breaking, of him.
The old man sighed tiredly.
There were many things that he had regretted over the course of his life. Some decisions would always haunt him. Yet, it was his interference in Kai’s life that scared him the most.
Had he, in his quest to do much good, only succeeded in causing much harm?
-------
The Tula
If there was anything a subsidiary in Government Building feared it was to interrupt a Council meeting.
Councillor Ladron hated to be interrupted by anyone, but found it particularly galling when that someone was a lowly subsidiary.
However it was too important, and Councillor Ladron would be even angrier if he were not made aware of the development immediately. And so the subsidiary walked into the Council chambers to deliver what was undoubtly the worst news that Councillor Ladron had ever received.
He stood in the centre of the room as he delivered his message. Five of the councillors sat at their desks to one side of him, and five to the other. They were seated in large comfortable black chairs, and the desks in front of them glowed with the blue white light that travelled through wires embedded into the glass.
Councillor Ladron was seated at the head of the room, his desk rai
sed on a black marble platform, his chair white in contrast to those of his fellow Councillors. He sat impassive and calm as the subsidiary delivered the news that the death squad had arrived at the Va Dic Toban residence to find it deserted. No quiver of emotion disturbed his face as he was told that Ceadron and Balak Va Dic Toban were also absent without leave.
“You sent a death squad to kill Astra?” Beris Va Dic Zorrenson’s already severe face was drawn so tightly in irritation that her mouth was little more than a thin line on her face. “You did such a thing without the consent or knowledge of the Council?”
Councillor Ladron was not really attending to her, but had placed his fingertips together, and leant back in his chair.
“As always, Beris, you dwell upon the unimportant and miss the weightier matters,” he replied absently.
“You promised us that Astra was not a danger, Corbani,” interrupted Councillor Sendel, his smooth voice as calm as ever. “Yet now it transpires that, far from you having her under control, it has become necessary for you to wipe away every trace of her existence.”
Councillor Ladron’s eyes narrowed as he turned to meet Councillor Sendel’s gaze. He did not appreciate the reminder, nor the boldness that had prompted Councillor Sendel to make his observation.
“As I promised you, I am in complete control of Astra,” he replied softly. “It was Leda Va Dic Toban who made it necessary to be rid of them all.”
“I see.”
Councillor Ladron had the satisfaction of seeing Councillor Sendel lower his gaze as the cold words of reproof smote him. It was only momentary, for an instant later, with a languor born of arrogance, he raised his eyes again.
“Then it was Leda you had no control over,” he stated mildly.
Councillor Ladron fingers convulsed jerkily at these words. Although one of the few councillors who dared to give him trouble, Sendel was pushing particularly hard today. Corbani could only view his recklessness with misgiving. He had made a miscalculation, and Sendel seemed intent on using that mistake to his full advantage.
Corbani turned to the subsidiary still standing before them.
“What of Senator Burton’s son?”
