Burke frowned at the inference. “Never mind.”
“Not interested, sen? You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Get lost.”
“I’ll be back when you want another brew, eh?” With a laugh the man left, wiping his fingers on his apron as he headed back to the bar. Burke shifted in his chair, dropping his feet from the seat opposite to the floor. Cursing softly, he reached for the cylinder of brew and slid it over to the table’s edge. He took a small mouthful, then tipped his head and swallowed half the contents of the glass.
He’d already had six glasses of the strong Bereel brew. He wanted to get drunk, dead drunk, passing-out-senseless drunk, but it seemed he couldn’t. With the exception of the angry turmoil wreaking havoc on his conscience since sunset, his head remained remarkably clear.
Arrangements, as promised, had been made for him to meet the Revered’s wife. The assignation was to take place within the hour. He knew meeting her in an intoxicated state was a coward’s act, but he didn’t care. How low he’d sunk, how damned depraved and heartless he’d become. He hated himself, even more than he despised Sterne. Given half a chance, he would have taken the next overland to the abbey, removed his daughter, spirited her away so she would never, never know what he had done in his past, what he was doing this night. But it was too late. Sterne had seen to that. His men were at the abbey in case Burke made any attempt at heroism.
As for this Resa Andrea, given a few more brews and a little more anger, he could have hated her, too. Instead, he tried to remain indifferent, detached. She would be all right. She had to be all right. A little shame wouldn’t destroy her.
But it could. He knew it could.
He downed the remainder of his drink and staggered upright, scooping the other two coins on the table back into his pocket. Clutching the back of the chair, he waited for the floor to steady itself before attempting to cross it. The brew had physically affected him but his mind remained clear, cold with the reality of his next move. Walking with deliberate care through the patterned circles of light and darkness toward the street door, he managed to avoid bumping into any of the cantina’s patrons.
Weighted down by his growing guilt, he hesitated at the door, but his body had already broken the beam. The two sheets of dented metal parted with a creaking shiver. Night air rushed in around him. Burke glanced back at the barkeep, who nodded with a smug expression as he wiped his hands again on the dirty apron.
“See you later, sen.”
Burke stumbled out into the street. Chill wind slapped his face like thrown water. He turned right, striding along the walkway in the direction of the Quadrate, pulling his lightweight jacket closed, viewing the unusual temperature of the night as an ill omen. Stars filled the sky above the Quadrate, the atmosphere swept clean by the brisk wind. In the streets, public transports moved swiftly on air cushioned conveyance tracks and the walkways, well lit by shoulder-level pyraxzine rods, thronged with humanity. Burke slipped out of a narrow side street into the press moving toward the main entrance of the Quadrate. The building towered before him. Burke paused, placing a hand on the wall. A gritty dusting of sand flaked off, blowing into his face. Brushing it out of his eyes he mounted the single step and went inside.
The main lobby of the Quadrate was hundreds of years old, tiled in an intricate mosaic pattern depicting some low ago clash of power between the peoples of the planet. From the center of the domed ceiling hung an enormous lamp, swaying slightly in the currents of air far above the ground. Arched corridors ran like the vanes of the sun on the Talian banner into the dimness beyond. Burke moved swiftly across the lobby, passing several guards at the entrance to the arboretum, planted, no doubt, to keep the populace temporarily diverted from entering until this nasty business was concluded. No one stopped him going in. Knowing glances slid his way. His abdomen tensed.
The arboretum opened up around him into abrupt spaciousness. Raising his eyes, he stared a moment at the stars winking through the silhouette of foliage pressed to the transparent roof overhead. No wind stirred the leaves. His rushing blood, the musical fall of water in the near distance, were the only sounds he heard.
Moving along shadow-filled avenues, he found the shadows disturbing to his already rattled senses and shivered in the warmth of the arboretum. The last of his inebriation abandoned him. Running the fingers of both hands through his hair, Burke paused on the paved walkway. A single avenue before him led toward the fountain where he was to wait for her, Stern’s wife. He refused to think of her by name. A name gave her identity, and he didn’t want that. Not now.
III.
TWICE BETRAYED
Hallie rolled up onto her knees and vomited. It wasn’t the first time, but she hoped it would be the last as there was nothing left of her stomach’s contents, her last meal served shipboard long gone. Dropping back onto the floor, she peered out through narrowed lids at the dimensions of her chamber. Raised in the vast, open spaces of the desert, she trembled at the claustrophobic conditions of the small chamber. The impact of space travel and nerves and close confinement were pushing her to the brink of panic. Looking at a wall and a ceiling and another wall and another wall and another wall, all no more than a few strides away, she fought hard to keep from screaming out loud.
Lurching upright once more, she leaned over the commode clutching her stomach. Though her gut wrenched spasmodically, nothing more came up. Hallie hunched over her knees, pushing her fingers into her disheveled hair.
The trial had seemed interminable, but she figured she’d been here in this place half a day, maybe a little less. It was imperative she keep reminding herself more existed to the facility than the cell in which she found herself. No one had said anything about a solitary confinement. She wasn’t a dangerous criminal.
Hallie crawled over to the sink and pulled herself up, clinging to the edge with both hands. After a moment she turned on the faucet, bending to rinse her face and the inside of her mouth with cool, metallic-tasting water. She studied her visage in the reflective wall covering. Not glass. Someone might break it and use the shards as a weapon or for more desperate purposes. She could understand that. Even at this early stage.
Dark smudges beneath her eyes indicated weeks of sleepless nights and waking nightmare. The restless, angry expression was another matter entirely.
Adulteress.
She hadn’t been allowed to speak in her own defense despite the fact an inordinate amount of evidence had been presented. Manufactured evidence of course, most damnably that of her own creating—hiking up her gown to her waist as she turned to flee the stranger in the garden made to appear an invitation rather than an act of necessity.
Then there had been the testimony of the stranger himself.
He had been thoroughly coached by Arad with details that had turned her stomach. Required to sit through the entire recorded recitation, skin crawling and tears of shame running down her face. The first couple of days her family had come to support her in the trial, but by the sixth day none of them returned.
Acid coursed her stomach and burned through her veins at recollection of their absence. Bewilderment made a hollow in her heart. How could they abandon her, even if they credited the testimony as truth? And yet, truth or lies, she knew the shame created was not hers alone to bear.
As for the stranger, she had not seen him after her apprehension by the fountain, though she’d had ample time to study him as she observed his recorded testimony. His angular features reflected a hard life, the scar running from cheekbone to jaw evidence of a vicious wound sometime in his past. She remembered his gray eyes, dark and fierce and wretched. If the man had any sense, he’d fled Talia, took what was paid him and left before anyone got wind of his true crime, giving false evidence in a court of inquiry.
And Arad had orchestrated it all. Even without his gloating assurances, she knew no one but Arad, as her husband, could provide the intimate details Burke Conlan described in his confession.
&n
bsp; Well, Arad Sterne was her husband no more. Talian law was swift. Annulment had been granted within thirty days of sentencing for her offense against a High Official. An appeals process didn’t exist.
Hallie swiped at her damp face with the backs of her fingers. Locating her bag in the corner, she knelt down beside it. With the exception of one item, she had been permitted only articles of personal hygiene and comfort, undergarments and sleeping robes. Please, please, she begged silently, don’t let it have been lost.
Rummaging through the contents of the bag, she curved her fingers around the cool roundness she sought and drew it out, warming it in her hands before gradually moving it nearer to her ear. Years ago her eldest brother, gone now, had found the item at a beggar’s market. A useless trinket that he nevertheless thought might appeal to a young child. Smooth and round and clear as water, the shape alone would have pleased her, but when she had held it to her ear she was able to hear something her brother had not. She had no idea how the thing was made, who had fashioned it, how it worked, but once her hands warmed it she could hear what she had come in time to call The Music. The whispers of sand across stone, and banners flapping in the wind, the laughter of children splashing excitedly in the water from a new rain, the shifting of sparse, green growth in the hot sun: sounds of home, of Talia.
Arad had thought to break her heart by permitting her to retain the sphere. Time would tell if he was right.
Carefully restoring the sphere to her pack, Hallie looked around the cell, seeking a communication system. Besides the naked cot––she had not yet been provided with sheets––there was a single chair, an empty closet with the door standing open, a narrow desk with one drawer, the sink, and a commode. She assumed—hoped—bathing facilities were elsewhere. At the sight of a fixed Eye in the upper corner of the room, she frowned, unsettled by the idea her every move might be watched. She made a face in the Eye’s direction and pointed at the door.
“Do you wish to depart your cell?” a mechanical, oddly female voice asked, filling the room rather than appearing to come from a particular point. Hallie didn’t like that either. It seemed sacrilegious, somehow.
“Yes. Am I allowed to do so?”
“Of course. You may leave your cell at any time. Remain always in the designated areas. Speak your name in order to exit or enter your cell. Your voice patterns will be recorded.”
Hallie glanced at the closed door. “Will it open and close only at my command?”
“Except in emergency, only at the sound of your voice.”
She relaxed a little. Despite the limited confines, at least the cell would be a safe retreat.
“Where do I find food?”
“Food is available in the cafeteria at all times. Full meals at times stated.”
Good. So she could dine alone if she chose. “Is this cell monitored?”
“By this unit, yes.”
Well, not human, then. “What about other areas? Are they monitored?”
“At all times.”
“Human monitoring?”
“With the exception of prisoners there are no humans on Zebulon. The Zebulon Facility is complete and self-sufficient. Everything necessary to your existence will be provided for you. Your life will be well-maintained. If you have further questions, feel free to query this unit.”
Hallie stared at the eye, fighting despair. “Very well.” She moved to the door and spoke her name. The barrier slid into the wall, revealing a featureless corridor illuminated by light bars almost at ceiling height. Someone stepped in front of her. Hallie dropped into a defensive stance.
“Whoa. Hi there.” Standing a bit above average height with a thin build and wearing the same gray uniform she did, the man held up his hands. His close-cropped hair was a dark shade of red and his eyes between blue and green, much deeper than Hallie’s own. Grinning amiably, he stepped forward, extending one hand in her direction. Hallie took another wary step away.
The man dropped both hands to his sides, shoving them in his pockets. “Now, don’t be like that. The name’s Skelly Shane. What’s yours?”
Hallie sized him up and cleared her throat. “Hallandra Irese Hallie, for short.”
“Well, Hallie will do then.” Turning from her, Skelly Shane peered out into the corridor, neither surprised nor alarmed. “Come on, Emil. This is Hallie, our latest addition. Haven’t you anything to say?”
Another man appeared in the doorway reluctantly, shorter than the redhead, heavier, and older. His expression by comparison was quite severe. He regarded Hallie with a scowl.
“No,” he said.
Skelly chuckled. “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s a horrendous gambling addict. A terror to be around without his game of Rustics. Do you play?”
Hallie shook her head in mute response. She had not planned on any casual conversations in close quarters with other prisoners. She had no idea what types of crimes they might have committed.
“I’m not surprised,” Emil muttered. He grimaced in disgust.
“I promised him a game. He’s impatient.” Without invitation, Skelly moved into the cell, scanning the interior with flashing eyes. Hallie repositioned herself out of reach of either man. “Eventually,” Skelly stated, planting hands on hips, “this place will begin to look like home.”
Still bristling under Emil’s sardonic glare, Hallie turned to him with a spark of anger. “Sarcasm?”
“Actually,” the man stated quietly, “no.” He waited for her response. She said nothing. “Come along and watch the game, then. Maybe you’ll learn to play, eh? You mustn’t be a loner here. It doesn’t work.”
“Ha!” Emil snorted. “It works for some of us, don’t it?”
Skelly eyed his companion with a look of dark sympathy. “You stay alone, you step over that edge alone. You ought to know that as well as I do.”
Hallie looked to Emil’s pale face. He seemed apprehensive over the turn the conversation had taken. Yet before the older man could reply, Skelly changed topic once again.
“You’re certainly a pretty one. Isn’t she pretty, Emil?” The other man grunted. A long, thin hand reached out to grasp the braid hanging over her breast. “What’s this blue streak for, Hallie?”
Her eyes flicked up to Shane’s face. She knew how to defend herself, had been trained to it, although she hadn’t practiced the art in a good many years. Still, it was not something one forgot.
“It’s a family mark. We make the dye ourselves. It’ll grow out while I’m here, I expect.”
“Oh, yes, you can be certain of it.” He turned the braid on his palm, causing the frosty streak to glitter in the cell’s illumination. Hallie’s heart pounded into her throat, remembering another time, Arad’s large fingers gripped in her hair. But this man was not Arad. He let the plait glide from his hand. “Where are you from?”
“Talia,” she said. “On Citadel.”
“Talia,” Skelly repeated. “Well, that could be interesting. I’m from Lucas, myself. Small planet. Red sky, red hills, the constant sound of mining. Great clouds of vapor. The devil of a place. When I dream now, I dream in one color: green.” He laughed. “I think we frightened you, Hallie. Sorry. I’ve been told I’m a bit overdone at times. You mustn’t take me too seriously.”
In the corridor Emil let loose a startling sound Hallie took to be his version of laughter. “You certainly take his word for that.”
Ignoring him, the younger man asked Hallie if she was ready.
“Ready?”
“For a game,” he said. “Or to watch. Your choice.”
He turned and exited the chamber, pausing once to glance back at her. Hallie followed. At the very least, she needed to find out as much as she could about the populace of the prison.
In the common area, the vibrant hues of floor mats and the various wall units contrasted with the stark cell. Every lumi-disc in the ceiling was brightly charged in spite of the vitrine-paneled apertures lining an entire wall. On closer inspection, Hallie discover
ed they were covered on the outside by opaque protective screens. She fiddled with them for a few minutes, trying to get them to open so she could see out. From the gaming table, Skelly asked her to stop.
She jerked her head toward the covered windows. “What’s out there?”
“Dunno,” said Skelly, glancing up. “Don’t want to know.”
“You’ve never looked? Is there any way to see out?”
Emil lifted his gaze from the multiple squares on the tabletop. “Sure there is. We looked, both of us. Once. That was enough.”
His tone sent a frisson dancing along her arms. She hadn’t forgotten the stories told about Zebulon. In time she would have to find out the truth for herself, but for the moment she feigned indifference, asking about the game. Each of the men had pulled out a handful of sparkling triangular crystals from the pocket of his uniform, placing them on the edge of the board. Holographic images of playing pieces formed on the squares, elongated faces, blank eyes.
“What do you do with the crystals?”
“We gamble,” said Emil in a surly undertone.
Skelly looked up again from his study of the game board to smile at Hallie. “I brought them with me. Basically they’re worthless, but we use them, me and Emil, to keep track of credit. When we get out of Zebulon we’ll settle up.”
Emil folded his hands over his stomach and leaned back in his chair. “Right. When we get out.” From beneath pale, stiff brows his shrewd eyes waited on Hallie’s reaction. She took care to display none. “I’ve been here for five Oren years, and Skelly four. Skelly was told that he’d be released after two. Weren’t you, Skelly?”
“Was I?” Skelly scratched the hair behind his ears. “I don’t remember.”
Emil snorted, clapping his hands together. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t, boy-o, but I think your problem is that you do.”
Not troubling to respond, Skelly counted out his crystals. Emil turned back to Hallie, generous in his sudden volubility.
“It’s an expensive proposition, getting someone into Zebulon,” he said. “I’ll wager that your valuables were confiscated, weren’t they? Everything of value that you own as compensation to the person responsible for your imprisonment. Tell me, am I right?”
Emerald Twilight: Bundled Edition Page 3
