“I don’t like this,” she muttered to him as the sentry motioned for them to climb the stone steps to the doorway of the public building.
“Relax,” he murmured, “we’ll be fine.”
Andi crossed her fingers behind her back. For some reason she didn’t share Deneb’s confidence.
Chapter Three
Andi and Deneb entered the doors of the public building at the top of the steps and found themselves in a large square hall with a high ceiling. Banners depicting ancient shields hung on the wall, while the huge pillars that held up the ceiling were carved with symbols and pictures. It looked a solid building, emphasized by the fact that the walls appeared to have taken remarkably little damage, although there was no glass in the windows. The large table that stood in the center of the hall soon took Andi’s attention, however. It was spread with maps and battle plans, and was surrounded by a dozen or so Ruvalians. Unlike the sentry who had brought them in, and the men outside, they all wore yellow sashes around their waists. Andi wondered if it was the Ruvalian equivalent of stripes on their sleeves.
The sentry spoke to the men at the table, and they all looked over at Deneb and Andi curiously. One of the men spoke back, and the sentry returned to them and gestured for them to sit on the chairs to one side, presumably to wait until the men had finished their discussion.
Deneb spent his time studying the walls and hangings, presumably imagining them in the display cabinets on the Antiquarian, but Andi sat and listened to the men talking, recording their speech in the Wordbox from her bag. She listened to the interpreter clip as they spoke, frowning as the Wordbox struggled to find the right phrase, typing in her own suggestions and modifying those that it came up with. Within half an hour she had a basic dictionary and phraseology, and it continued to expand as the men talked.
Deneb was listening through his own clip as Andi worked, and soon began to pick up the gist of their speech. “They’re talking about battle formations,” he said to her. “They’re planning a new attack on the Hoshaens tomorrow, a last ditch attempt before their front line gives way.”
“Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about trade,” Andi suggested.
“It’s the perfect time. They’ll want to be rid of us, so hopefully they’ll just give us what we want to make us go away.”
Andi wasn’t so sure, but she nudged him as the talk at the table stopped, and for the first time one of the Ruvalian leaders looked over at them. He beckoned the guard to bring them forward, and Andi felt the rifle prod her shoulder, motioning for her to move.
She and Deneb walked across the hall to the table. Up close, Andi could study the Ruvalians more carefully. Their skin was the most beautiful green color, almost iridescent in the sunlight that streamed through the gaps in the windows. However, they were all incredibly thin and tired, and many had obviously been wounded. They were dressed in a dark-green-and-brown camouflage uniform, although as she had noted before, those around the table sported a yellow sash around their waists. Most of them also wore a thin chain around their necks on the end of which was a small polished piece of Indigo Quartz. It was only when one of them spoke to her that she got the biggest surprise, however—they didn’t have teeth, but instead a strip of creamy-brown bone ran the length of their jaw in place of the enamel pegs.
“Who are you?” asked the Ruvalian who had previously ordered them to sit. “What do you want?”
“We are traders,” Andi said, saying the words that she had discussed with Deneb previously on board the Sparrowhawk. “We come in peace.”
“How do I know that you are not spies for the Hoshaens?”
“We have some ammunition for you in our ship, given to us by the Plions.”
The Ruvalian captain looked surprised. “That is good of you. We are running low on supplies.” He placed the papers he was looking at on the table and gave them his full attention. “What do you want in exchange?”
“We are looking for artifacts to take back to our ship.”
The captain frowned. “We are at war. We have no time for trade.” He turned away from them back to the battle plans. His movements and words were final. “You saw the bodies outside. Leave us, while you still can.”
Deneb stayed where he was. “Please,” he pleaded. He spoke in broken Ruvalian, putting together the words as best he could. “We make living from past of others. We only want few for museum.”
The Ruvalian came round the table and grabbed Deneb by the shoulder. He pushed him roughly to the maps spread out before them and tapped the displays angrily. “Look! The Hoshaens have pressed right up to the city walls on the east side. Any moment now they will overrun us. And you think we have time for trade?”
“It is our… life,” said Deneb stubbornly, desperately. “Not take long.”
The Ruvalian turned away, but Deneb grabbed his jacket. “Please! I will do anything for few pieces.”
Andi stared at him in surprise. She had never heard him plead for artifacts before. Uneasily she thought back to a few weeks ago, when she had come across him studying pages of the accounts that he updated every week. He had looked worried, and she had asked him what the problem was, but he had just smiled and said it was nothing for her to be concerned about. It didn’t look like that now. What was going on? Perhaps they weren’t making as much profit as she’d thought.
Deneb looked over at her, and then moved a few paces away, beckoning the Ruvalian to go with him. Andi stayed where she was, realizing that he wanted to speak to him alone. She frowned as she watched her father trying to put his request into words, gesturing a lot with his hands. The Ruvalian looked over at her several times and asked many questions. Deneb seemed reluctant to answer, but eventually continued to speak, his back stiff with what Andi assumed was embarrassment, or pride, or both.
She shifted impatiently as she waited for the conversation to end, remembering his words on board the Antiquarian, that he didn’t just want to go down to Thoume for the crystal. What were they talking about—was it only the possible financial problems he was experiencing, or was it something more important?
Eventually the Ruvalian walked back to her, with Deneb following behind, looking frustrated. The Ruvalian stared at Andi for a moment. Then he frowned, gesturing to the small Wordbox that Andi held in her hand. “What is that?”
“It’s an interpreter. It helps us to understand what you are saying. I made it.”
“You?” His eyebrows rose.
She flushed under his mocking gaze. “Yes. Why does that surprise you?”
The captain raised an eyebrow. “Legend tells us that Earth women are not the most… intelligent of species.” There was a hint of a sneer behind his words. “Is it true that you are not allowed to fight on the battlefield?”
Deneb pulled Andi closer to him defensively. She blushed again at his protective gesture, embarrassed in front of the confident Ruvalian captain. “Some do. But I doubt that I will ever fight,” she admitted.
The captain surveyed Andi curiously. “You are, what? Fourteen, fifteen summers old?”
“Fourteen.”
“If you were on our planet, you would have been taught to use a rifle, and how to kill an enemy, at eleven.” He looked at Deneb. “She is not a child—you should not shield her from the realities of life.”
“She is female,” Deneb said defensively in his stilted Ruvalian.
The captain lifted his chin. “On our planet, the women fight alongside the men. They are brave and have obtained many of our country’s highest honors.”
Deneb stared at the green figure, realization suddenly dawning. “You are woman!” he declared with his usual subtlety.
Andi added quickly, “He didn’t mean that as an insult. It is just that you seem so… competent.”
The female Ruvalian captain smiled. “I understand. I know off-worlders cannot tell the difference between our males and females.”
Andi looked around the table. Not only were the Ruvalians dressed alike—the
ir faces were all hairless, their bodies slim and straight, with no hints of womanly curves. She could not tell which of them were men and which were women. “Why don’t you distinguish between yourselves?” she asked curiously, adding hastily, “I don’t mean that as an insult.”
The captain nodded. “During times of peace women do sometimes dress differently to men. But now we are at war. It makes no difference whether we are male and female. None of us wants his or her land to fall to the Hoshaens. We all fight.”
Andi nodded back. She felt a strange admiration for the confident and courageous captain.
The captain sighed. She seemed to have come to terms with the fact that the two travelers were not a threat. “My name is Clios,” she said.
“I am Andi, and this is my father, Deneb.”
Clios nodded her head. She looked over her shoulder at the battle plans. “You can see that we are in much trouble. The Hoshaens press against our walls like a disease threatening to break out. They will soon overrun us.” Her eyes narrowed. “Sphere will stop at nothing to set foot inside this Hall.”
Deneb frowned. “Sphere?”
“He is a general in the Hoshaen army.”
Andi was shocked at the hate that glowed suddenly in Clios’s eyes. She sensed a deeper emotion behind Clios’s words than mere despise for an enemy. “What did he do to you?” she asked gently.
Clios turned a surprised gaze on her, and then smiled ruefully. “You have sharp eyes. Yes, we do have a history. Sphere was in charge of the raiding party on my home village, eight summers ago. He killed everyone in the village—everyone but me.” The deep furrow between her eyes indicated the emotional pain he had put her through. “I managed to find a hiding place in a yellowcorn store. I watched him massacre my people through a crack in the wall. He killed my mother and father before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it.” She bit her lip. The memory was obviously still painful for her.
“You say he is a general in the army. Is he well respected?”
“He is greatly feared, even by his own people, because of his cruelty. But they will never eject him from the army because of his talent.”
“His talent?” Deneb asked.
“The Indigo Quartz,” Clios explained, touching the pendant at her throat. “Have you heard of it?”
“Yes, a little. The Plions said that it increases a person’s mental power.”
“Yes, something like that. Well, Sphere has the natural ability to read people’s minds. And he wears a large piece of pure Quartz, which enhances this ability. You see, although in Ruvalian lands the Quartz runs near the surface and is easily accessible, it is less pure here than the veins which run deep in Hoshaen territory. Hoshaen crystal is extremely expensive, but also very powerful. Sphere’s gift is invaluable, for of course if he interrogates prisoners he can immediately find out what they know.”
Andi shivered. The thought of this man probing her mind to find out her deepest secrets and fears made her mouth go dry. “Can nothing be done?” she asked, feeling desperate for both the captain and her people.
Clios shrugged. “Most of our people have given up all hope of ever winning the war. Once the Hoshaens took the Golden Star, the battle for us was lost.”
“The Golden Star?” Deneb asked.
Clios studied him for a moment. She seemed to be debating whether to tell them any more. She dropped her eyes, and shuffled the plans on the table. “It is a religious icon. Our customs stretch back millennia to the days of our forefathers. The Golden Star was our last link to our ancestors. It has a Keeper—a woman called Lydia. Lydia was captured, and the Golden Star with her. I do not think that the Hoshaens are aware that she was the Keeper as they have not bragged about capturing the Star. But since her disappearance, our army has lost all heart.”
Andi understood. In the old days of war on Earth, armies would often fight for the country’s colors, or for the flag, and losing that symbol often proved devastating for those who fought. “We, too, have a love of history,” she said. “That’s why we collect artifacts—so that the history of the people in this Galaxy can be known to all.”
Clios nodded, but showed no signs of offering them any Ruvalian gifts.
“Where was Lydia taken?” Deneb asked eventually.
Clios looked at him with her deep green eyes. “To a prison, deep in Hoshaen lands. My people call it the Black Hole.”
Andi shivered. The nickname implied a dark, impenetrable place that sucked in everything around it, somewhere from which you could never escape. “It sounds terrifying.”
“It is a dreadful place, deep in the bowels of Thoume, where Ruvalian prisoners are forced to mine for Indigo Quartz in the most horrendous conditions. They say it is like an underground city, a huge place, stretching for miles. And people who go in there never come out.” The eyes of the courageous Ruvalian captain were filled with a terrible fear. A chill ran along Andi’s spine.
Deneb frowned. “If Golden Star returned,” he said in his faltering Ruvalian, “your army turn back Hoshaens?”
“I do not know. But they would certainly have renewed hope—something we have not known for some time.” Clios met his gaze openly. “The return of the Star would be the only way we could grant your… request.”
Andi frowned. Request? Did she mean the Quartz, or something else? “Has anyone tried to find the Golden Star?” she asked.
“I have sent as many soldiers into the Black Hole as I can spare, but none of them has returned. Lydia was very strong and courageous. But perhaps she is dead now. Or as good as.” A single tear fell from Clios’s left eye and trickled down her cheek. She made no attempt to wipe it away, as proud of her sorrow as she was of her courage.
“Would the Hoshaens not have recovered the artifact themselves when they captured Lydia?” Andi asked. “They must know how important it is to you.”
“Lydia would never let that happen. She would keep it in a safe place.”
“You mean that perhaps she hid it before she was captured?”
Clios’s face was unreadable. “Possibly.”
Deneb was leaning on the table and Andi looked down, shocked but not surprised to see that his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge. A sinking feeling inside her made her wonder if her metal heart had detached itself from the rest of her body and was drifting slowly to her feet. She knew the look on his face, knew it of old. Deneb the white knight in shining armor, always ready to rescue the damsel in distress. She caught his arm, shook her head. “No, Dad. We can’t.”
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time and then straightened, his eyes clearing. “I know,” he said gently. He turned back to Clios. “I sorry for your loss. Sorry to taken your time.”
Clios looked tired, as if all the weeks of sleeping rough, snatching an hour here and there, had suddenly taken their toll. “We don’t have much that you can take. There are precious few relics here—everything of value has been buried.” Her eyes burned fiercely. “We will not let the Hoshaens come in and take our history as if it is yellowcorn ready for the picking.”
She turned and walked away from the table towards a small door at the back of the hall. After a few paces she turned and beckoned to them to follow her. Deneb did so, pulling Andi with him. When they reached the door she opened it and stepped back to let them through.
Deneb walked into the small room and Andi followed. It was a store room, filled with boxes and junk, but here and there she could see the odd statue, chipped and broken; books lying open, their covers ripped at the spine; unidentifiable metal objects, bent out of shape.
“It’s not much,” Clios said, “but you can take what you like.” She and Deneb exchanged a look and she opened her mouth as if she were about to add something, but then she turned on her heel and walked off, back to the table of maps and plans.
The two of them stood there for a moment, silent, looking at the door. Then Deneb turned and looked around the room. “Let’s see what’s worth t
aking,” he said. His voice was rough.
Andi glanced around her. She couldn’t see anything of the sort of quality that they had been hoping for. And somehow, taking these broken things seemed wrong. They seemed pitiful, as if they had been hoping to find a pedigree dog, but had instead come upon a dirty mongrel, mangy and flea-ridden, that had been beaten by its owner. She didn’t want to take any of these things that would remind her of the pile of bodies lying out on the flagstones. She just wanted to leave this place.
“Let’s go,” she said, not touching anything.
“I’m not leaving without something,” Deneb said stubbornly. “I’m not going to waste our journey and come away with nothing.” He began to fling aside boxes, looking for something, anything worth taking back to the Antiquarian.
Andi remained where she was, a little frightened. She knew he felt exactly the same way as she did, and could tell by the red patch on his cheeks that he was ashamed of his actions. “Is it bad?” she asked suddenly. “The money, I mean.”
He stopped what he was doing for a moment, looking down at the large box he was rummaging through. Then he glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”
“I know there’s something wrong. I saw your face when you asked Clios what we could have. You looked… desperate.” She could see that he was struggling to deny her accusations. “Stop treating me like a child!” she snapped. “You heard what Clios said. I’m fourteen now and nearly an adult.”
He stared at her, shocked. His eyes were hard. “You’re not Ruvalian,” he said through gritted teeth, “and you’re my only daughter, the only thing left in my life that I can protect. When I think you need to know my business, I’ll tell you.” And he went back to rifling through the box.
Andi wanted to tell him that she didn’t need protecting, that she wanted to share everything with him, but she kept quiet, sensing that he wouldn’t listen, not now, anyway. Eventually, he became uncomfortable with her silence, and he stood, cursing, holding a small chipped statue in his hands that looked as if it could have been made of marble. “This will do,” he said curtly, and made his way out of the room.
Andromeda Day and the Black Hole Page 4
