by Sharon Joss
For a moment, his vision blurred. The idea of Garrett as one of those animals like Sully nauseated him. No. It couldn’t be. The very idea made his skin crawl. "I don't know what I'd do if he was one them. I don't think I could stand it." He felt faint.
“Have you seen the preview?”
“No, I just got here.”
“Come with me." Reinhardt took him by his arm and guided him into another great room; this with a circular stage set in the center. Armed security guards stood kept the curious from reaching out to touch the waist-high piles of stacked gold ingots from the forbidden zone. On a second stage, eight huge nuggets of raw ore, each the approximate size of a bowling ball was on display. Six of the nuggets appeared to be pure, solid gold; one was equal parts gold and clear rock crystal, another embedded with bits of turquoise and small rubies.
Stunned by the beauty and sheer volume of gold in the exhibit, he could only stare in wonder.
“The prospectors smelt their gold into ingots and bring them to the Arkady assayers for a receipt, which becomes their minimum bid from Arkady Mining. If the winning bid for the whole lot doesn’t top the Arkady price, the mandragons walk away with Arkady’s money in their pockets. If the winning bid goes over the Arkady price, the miner receives the greater price. The nuggets are sweepstakes prizes. They’re put up for bid separately. As specimens, they usually go for far more than the ingots.”
“Good grief. No wonder everyone kept insisting I was here for the gold.”
Reinhardt nodded. “Sixteen tons of it.”
“They pull this much out every four years?”
“Or more. Compared to what the company pulls out of their mines every year, this is a drop in the bucket, but Arkady doesn’t spend a dime pulling this out of the ground. They’re not permitted to mine in the forbidden zone, so this how they get around it.”
“That is a lot of gold.”
A few minutes later, Renly recognized Edward Duprees step onto the stage and announce the bidding would be starting in a few minutes. At the same time, a procession of mandragons entered the room and took up positions closest to the stage, as if building a proprietary, protective wall between the guests and the gold. As the audience stepped back, the auctioneer stepped up and opened the bidding.
Renly eased himself to the back of the room. The auction itself didn’t interest him. Reinhardt was right; he needed to assure himself that Garrett hadn’t somehow become one of these lizard men. While everyone else's attention focused on the bidding, he examined each of the mandragons as closely as he could. When he assured himself that Garrett was not one of the mandragons, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.
The noise and excitement of the auction approached a fever pitch. He had no desire to stay. This time of night, it would be quiet over at the stables. He hadn’t been back since that first time, and he’d felt his brother’s presence most strongly when he’d been there. This time of night it would be quiet. Maybe he’d have better luck.
He slipped out the door and headed toward the stables.
CHAPTER 10
The brisk walk up to the stables invigorated him. The king’s suit kept the chill night air at bay, and he appreciated the sudden silence after the excitement of the gold auction. The stars and moon lit up the night sky much more brightly than in his memories of Earth. While Aurum certainly lived up to its reputation as a primitive and bleak planet, he also appreciated the stark beauty of the empty landscape. In the distance, the famous Crags of Corrah rose steep and jagged as black fangs against the diamond points of the star-studded night. The sulfur-tainted air, so unpleasant when he first arrived, did not bother him quite as much. He no longer needed his kerchief to buffer the stench.
As he neared the dimly lit stables, sounds of angry voices reached him. He froze, uncertain what to do. He did not want to walk in on an argument.
A traggah whistled, and a woman’s voice yelled angrily, “Stop! Stop it!”
He raced around the corner of the barn and found the stable girl, K’Sati and one of the traggahs facing off against two men kicking a third man on the ground. “Hey!”
With a last vicious kick, the two attackers took off running, leaving their victim lying motionless in the dirt. The commotion woke up the traggahs, who began whistling and stamping in their stalls.
He rushed to the man’s side and rolled him over, while K’Sati attempted to calm the excited traggahs.
Renly stared onto the swollen and bruised features of Paul Hite’s face.
“Oh no, it’s Jason,” she gasped. “Is he all right?”
“Jason?” Paul’s pulse beat thready and erratic beneath his fingers. He shook his head. “You’re mistaken. His name is Paul. Paul Hite. I think he needs a doctor.”
“Wait here,” she told him. “Let me put Neatfoot in her stall, and I’ll help you carry him.”
He patted and shook him, but Paul did not respond. A curious sense of exhilaration filled him. I’ve got Paul! I’ve really got him! This time, he wouldn’t slip away from him, either. Garrett couldn’t be far.
K’Sati returned a moment later, and together they managed to carry him to a shed where she said Jason was staying. She lit a battery lamp and they settled him onto a cot shoved up against one of the bare walls. Trash, rotting food, and empty vodka bottles covered the floor and almost every surface of the small room. The place stank of stale sweat and vomit, but Renly detected no sign of Garrett.
“How do you know Paul,” he demanded.
She gave him a puzzled look. “His name is Jason. Are you saying he is your brother?”
“No, but they’re friends. His real name is Paul Hite. He will know where to find my brother. How do you know him?”
She shrugged. “He helps K’Ruhi out sometimes. He comes and goes.”
Renly’s heart skipped a beat. “Who is K’Ruhi? Is he Terran?”
“No, K’Ruhi is the farrier. He is Khirjahni.”
“What about his friends?”
She shook her head. “I cannot say. He is not a close friend. He comes around only occasionally, and stays for a few days. He had taken Neatfoot from her stall. When I stopped him to ask where he was taking her, those men came up and began beating him.”
Renly loosened his tie and unfastened the top button on his shirt. The answers he needed would have to wait until Paul regained consciousness. “What about that doctor?”
“We have no Terran doctors here. The closest healer is at the Temple of the Mother in the Stonewood Forest.” She knelt beside Paul and examined him. “I am not a healer, but I learned much when I served the Mother. I do not detect any broken bones, only bruises.” She leaned close, listening to his breathing, and checked his eyes.
What should we do?”
She gave him an embarrassed expression. “I do not believe he is badly injured. I believe he passed out from drink and dream dust. His hands bear no wounds or scratches. He did not fight those men. His fingernails are black and curled. He shows the early signs of dream dust addiction. He is not in pain.”
“That figures.” He nodded at the empty bottles littering the confined space. “I guess I’m not surprised. He hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw him. What is dream dust, anyway? Some kind of narcotic?”
“A hallucinogenic. From the forbidden zone. Highly addictive to Terrans.” Her eyes looked huge in the lantern light. Worry lines etched her forehead.
“Are you all right?”
She shook her head and looked away. “I cannot remain here with you. I am meeting someone.”
Oh. At this time of night, that probably meant one thing. He wondered if she was married, or whatever the Khirjahni called pair-bonding. Or maybe meeting her lover. Whatever the case, she didn’t look very happy about it. “Of course. Thanks for your help. I’ll stay with him until he wakes up,” he assured her.
She appeared relieved. “I will come back in the morning. He must answer for taking Neatfoot from her stall tonight. She is my responsibility.”
After she left, the tiny room seemed to darken and feel claustrophobic. Renly could not sit still. He wanted to slap Paul out of his stupor, but would not allow himself to do so. He needed Paul’s cooperation to find Garrett, and if that meant letting him sleep it off, he would wait. He slipped out of his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and slipped on a pair of synthetic gloves, glad he’d remembered to bring them. He cleared the trash and clutter from the shed, filling a nearby trash bin with the worst of the litter, as well as dozens of empty packets he assumed once held dream powder.
Paul’s abnormally thick, blackened fingernails disgusted him. They did look like claws. Mandragon claws. K’Sati seemed to think they were a sign of dream dust addiction, but the mandragons he met all had similar blackened claw-like nails. Was it the drug or dragon pox?
By the time he cleared the worst of the litter out of the room, the sky was beginning to lighten with the hint of first sunrise. Renly took a seat on the only chair in the room, and waited for Paul to wake up. Instead, Paul went into convulsions.
* * *
“You gotta help me, man. I’m dyin’.” A sheen of perspiration dampened Paul’s skin, soaking his clothes. Another wave of trembling and dry heaves shook his bony frame and he curled himself into a fetal position.
His condition seemed to be getting worse, not better. And through it all, Paul refused to tell him where to find Garrett. “Can’t you see I’m sick? I’ve got dust sickness. I’m gonna to die if you don’t get me something.”
Paul’s whiny voice grated on his nerves. In spite of his obvious discomfort, Renly found it difficult to dredge up any sympathy for him. “Tell me where Garrett is and I’ll get you what you want. Come on, tell me.”
“Get me what I need and I’ll tell you.”
They’d been going back and forth on this point for more than an hour. Enough already. “Fine. We’ll do things your way. I’ll help you get your dream dust, and you tell me where Garrett is.”
“You can’t get dust on the coast. You’ll have to find me some tranquilizer patches…” Dry heaves prevented him from saying more.
After the wave passed, he helped Paul to his feet, but the man could not stand on his own. Paul began to cry.
He began to worry Paul might die of withdrawal after all. He had to do something. “All right. Tell me where to go. I’ll get you what you need.”
Paul was still crying when gave him the directions. “I don’t have any money. Those guys took everything I had.”
“Why did they beat you up?”
A sly, well-remembered expression crossed Paul’s wan face. Even as kids, he never trusted Paul. “I was robbed.”
“Sure you were.” Renly stood and slipped on his jacket. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Paul smiled weakly. “I’ll be waiting.”
CHAPTER 11
“Golden Boy isn’t here,” K’Rhui told her.
K’Sati felt the blood drain from her face. K’Rhui had to be playing a joke on her. “I put him in the paddock yesterday, but he is missing now.” Wayne would kill her if anything happened to Golden Boy. “Paul said he would tell you.”
“Who?”
“Jason! Where is he?”
K’Rhui shook his head. “Jason left early this morning.”
“That cannot be. I saw him last night. He was in no condition to—when did he leave?”
“I did not see him leave. He left me a note.”
She didn’t wait for him to finish; she ran back to the stable to check Golden Boy’s stall.
Empty.
His numbered bridle and custom saddle were also missing from the tack room. On the floor beneath the saddle stand, she spied an empty dream dust packet. Oh no!
In a panic now, she raced out of the tack room and back to the shed where she’s left Paul and his friend Renly. The door was open; Renly stood out front with an angry expression on his face.
“Where is he?” But she already knew the answer. “You said you would stay with him!”
“He told me he was sick, I-.”
She waved at him impatiently and dashed for the paddock; relieved when Neatfoot and Silverbeard whistled a greeting to her.
Renly caught up with her, out of breath. “What are you going to do?”
She slipped a bridle over Neatfoot’s head and led her out of the paddock. “I’m going after Golden Boy. Your friend Paul has taken him.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Golden Boy is running his preliminary race is tomorrow. I must get him back before anyone discovers he is missing.” The thought of what Wayne would do to her if he found out terrified her. According to K’Rhui, Paul probably took Golden Boy less than an hour ago. Her gift told her the direction. The road led toward the Stonewood forest.
“Wait, I’m coming with you.”
She stared at him, wondering if he meant truly meant it. Terrans never ventured far from the coast. But on her own, she might not be able to take Golden Boy back from Paul. “Have you ever ridden a traggah?”
“No, but I grew up on horseback. I’ll figure it out.”
The determined look on his face convinced her. “Okay, you can ride Silverbeard.”
Silverbeard, however had not bonded to the Terran, and she needed move quickly. In the end, she persuaded Silverbeard to allow Renly to ride him, even as he put his ears back and protested bitterly about the extra weight in Renly’s pack.
“Leave the pack; it is too heavy.” Neatfoot danced beneath her, eager to be off.
“No way.” He patted the canvas carryall slung across his shoulder. “My whole life is in here. I’m not leaving it.”
He could ride, a least. She understood that much by how he sat astride the traggah.
“Let’s go!” She dug her heels into Neatfoot’s ribs and they were off.
CHAPTER 12
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Tension began to build in Wayne’s shoulders and neck. Conversations with K’Ruhi always tried his patience. The farrier was a man of few words. Wayne suspected the man possessed below average intelligence. “Where did she go?”
K’Ruhi frowned. “She did not say. They were in a hurry.”
“They? Who did she have with her?”
He shrugged. “A jockey, I think. No. A Terran.”
“Well which is it? Terran or jockey?”
K’Ruhi’s face lit up. “A Terran jockey!”
“There are no Terran jockeys, dip shit.”
“He was Terran,” K’Ruhi insisted. “A jockey. On Silverbeard; er, number twelve.”
Wayne fought to control his rising temper. “Are you saying K’Sati and some Terran rode out of here on traggahs?”
“A Terran jockey. No saddle.”
Impossible. No Terran in his right mind would climb on to one of those beasts; might as well ride a rhino. Wayne choked back his frustration. This couldn’t be happening. He unclenched his fists. “How long ago did they leave?”
“Three, maybe four hours.”
Wayne rubbed his jaw and fumed. She‘d decided to go defy his orders to have the traggahs destroyed, and decided to release them back into the wild. He’d only been half serious, but she had no sense of humor about her precious traggahs. Stupid bitch probably figured she could do the deed and get back with no one the wiser. Wrong.
Chalk up another day without K’Sati’s list of ringers. He should never have let her out of his sight. This disturbing new pattern of excuses and lies meant only one thing: he couldn’t trust her any more. His mood darkened.
Fine. He would get her good when she came crawling back. Oh how he was going to enjoy making her pay for this. And so would whoever else was involved. Who the hell did she get to go with her?
The training master, Ruben, came running up; an expression of panic on his face. “Several of the racing traggahs are missing,” he announced, breathlessly.
Odd. Even more strange that Ruben would come running to tell him. The training master rarely ever acknowledged his presence. “Ye
ah, I already know.” He and Ruben both reported to Ed Duprees, but Ruben knew he’d worked his way up from the mines, and never let him forget it.
He was one of those men who took pleasure in pointing out other people’s mistakes. A snitch. Trainer or no, Wayne never understood why Edward hired him.
“I don’t think you understand the nature of the problem,” Ruben panted.
The training master sure had a high opinion of himself. He waited a full beat before responding, and was pleased at how cool and professional he sounded. “Like I said before, I am aware of the situation, and would appreciate it if ya would give off and let me do my--.”
“One of the missing traggahs is Golden Boy.”
“What!” Impossible! He whirled to face K’Ruhi with an accusing stare.
The farrier shrugged, his expression confused. “I, I didn’t get a good look--.”
Of course she would take three traggahs; the two she was releasing and one to get back. A fast one. The fastest one. Golden Boy.
The whole company expected Golden Boy to win this year’s Gold Cup. All the senior executives already put a lot of money on him, knowing the odds would be best before he won his first race. If anything happened to Golden Boy… they’d ship him back to the mines and forget about him.
Unless he got Golden Boy back, he was good as dead. If he could keep a lid on this thing a little bit longer, she’d be back with Golden Boy in a few hours and Ruben would look like a fool. He clenched his teeth into a smile for Ruben’s benefit.
“Relax. I asked one of the stable girls to take them out for a little exercise, that’s all. Everything is under control, Ruben. Ya got nothing to worry about.” He would kill that little half-breed bitch for this. He would kill her and dump her in the rocklands for the lizards to eat.
“Exercise? Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Ruben offered a thin-lipped, phony smile of his own. “I already notified Mr. Duprees. He asked me to tell you that he and the rest of the board are waiting for you in the clubhouse conference room. They want a full report in the next ten minutes. If you run, I think you can make it.”
