“The area closest to the Law Courts has a lot of large rooms opening off a wide corridor,” Jael told him. “Nimo and I decided during our investigations that the rooms had been used at some time, not too horribly long ago. They weren’t dirty or anything, but a few small things had been left behind, like rags in a pail, as if someone had been cleaning up and had forgotten to take all the stuff away. Nimo thought that maybe Klensers had been kept down there at one time, but I disagreed—you don’t have to bring anyone to clean up after Klensers.”
“Sounds like that’s the place to peek at,” Maric said.
“Indeed,” Jael agreed. “But we better be careful. I don’t think the people in charge of this stashing of slaves really want us, or anyone else, to know what they’re doing. And I don’t want to be lectured to by anyone about what I do, or don’t do.”
“Yeah, we better step carefully,” Maric agreed. The authorities really are not going to want a Carmaks knowing what’s going on and where, he added to himself.
*****
Maric heard the sounds before Jael did. He grabbed her arm to stop her progress, and slid his hand down to where she was holding the light, directing its beam to the floor.
“Listen!” he hissed at her. “Can you hear footsteps, Jael?”
She concentrated for a moment; her node must have sharpened her hearing, and she nodded. Maric was angry; why hadn’t the girl turned on her acute hearing the moment they entered the underground passageways the way he had?
The footsteps were echoing a little too close for comfort.
“Better turn the light off,” he muttered to his cousin. “Whoever they may be, they’re fairly close to us and they may catch a glimpse of the light and then they’ll figure out that there’s someone else down here and come looking for us. They’ll be sure to have lights with them, and it’ll probably spill enough this way to allow us to see with node-enhanced sight.”
“What are you talking about?” Jael snapped at him. “I can’t see in the dark!”
“What! Shh, Jael, don’t you know anything? And turn off that lamp!”
The urgency in his voice had the effect of getting the girl to turn the light off. She moved it into her other hand and clutched at Maric’s hand with the now-free one, breathing erratically in the dark. As Maric’s low-light seeing blossomed he could see the look of unease on his cousin’s face; she was still in the dark. She did not know how to make use of her node!
“Jael, ask your node to enhance your night vision,” he told her in a quiet voice. “Just mentally request it and look around to see what happens. There is enough light here right now for those of us with nodes to see; those people are carrying lights, quite bright ones, I’d say.”
Apparently Jael followed instructions for within moments Maric felt her loosen her palm from his, and saw her bring it to cover her mouth.
“Oh,” she whispered, sounding amazed, “it works! Why hasn’t anyone told me about this before?”
“We are, as Kati of Terra said when she and her Troupe were in Carmakville, the children of a dying regime. In their attempt to keep hanging on to their power, our parents—or at least, many of them—have blocked from their offspring knowledge that should have been a birthright.” Maric sighed. “We have to let the world change, Jael, surely you know that?”
“Maybe,” she responded. “Are there other things that I should know about using my node?”
“We’ll deal with that later, okay?” Maric said, keeping his voice low. “Now, tell me, do you know where in this underground maze we are. Are we close to the rooms you were talking about? You have stored a mental map of the place in your node-enhanced mind, no?”
Jael flashed a smile at him.
“Sure have,” she said, her voice quiet, as well. “I do know a thing or two, cousin, even though Nimo and I had to figure things out for ourselves. That was partly what was so cool about exploring this complex—we discovered that we had no trouble keeping directions, images and stuff like that straight. Whereas a few years ago, before either of us had been implanted, we would never have been able to do that. And you and I definitely are close to where I thought that they’d store the off-worlders!”
“Let’s wait to see if the noises die down and it gets dark again. Then we can go and see what exactly is going on—after whoever was bringing in more inmates has gone away again.”
Jael shrugged.
“How are we going to find out anything in the dark if the doors are locked?” she asked.
“The simplest way,” Maric replied. “We’ll bang on any locked door that we find and ask who is behind it.”
Jael giggled.
“They’re off-worlders, Maric,” she said. “What makes you think that they’ll understand anything you say?”
“Some of them very well may. Kati of Terra and her Troupe Members speak Vultairian without any problem. Some of the slaves may well have nodes, or be otherwise quick to learn languages. Some of them have been here for a year or two, maybe even three. That’s a long enough time for even Ordinary Citizens to pick up at least the rudiments of a new language.”
“If you say so, cousin.”
They made their way somewhat closer to the area from which the sounds were coming, but were careful to stay far enough back that Maric judged a noded Exalted would not be able to pick up their noises, which, of course, were also masked by the commotion ahead of them. It sounded like people were being herded into rooms, doors banged, and equipment dropped off, probably in the cells to provide rudimentary services. All this was accompanied by the shouting of orders and instructions.
“There must be a bunch of workers there, too, from the sounds of it,” Jael muttered. “It’s not as much of a secret enterprise as you’d think it was from what Vi said.”
“They’re probably Sartose’s trusted bodyguards,” Maric responded. “Or workers attached to the Prison Complex itself. Not ones to gossip about their duties.”
Jael laughed.
“The workers do gossip,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve found out by keeping my ears open.”
“That’s interesting,” Maric conceded, looking at her curiously. “I didn’t think you’d care what Ordinary Citizens thought about anything.”
“Oh, I get so bored sometimes that I care about everything and anything,” Jael sighed. “There are times when I think that the Ordinary Citizens are much better off than we, the spawn of the Exalted. At least they get to do useful stuff, instead of just trying to fill their lives with approved entertainments.
“Why are we kept from doing so many things, anyway? I suggested to Mother that I’d like to learn pottery—there’s an interesting potter’s shop on the Artisan’s Row, have you ever been there? Maria’s Earthenware, it’s called and Maria gives pottery lessons to make a little extra money. I talked to her and she doesn’t care who she teaches as long as they pay the fee, so I asked Mother if I could have enough coin to take a few lessons. She told me that I didn’t need to learn pottery, that the Exalted didn’t need to get their hands dirty; we have ordinary workers for that. I told her that I’d enjoy getting my hands dirty on a potter’s wheel, but she wouldn’t listen. She just claimed that I was a total idiot to want to, as she put it, ‘emulate ordinary Citizens when I was born into the Exalted class’.”
“You could always come and visit us in Ithcar, Maric said with a grin. “My Mom would be only too happy to put you to work. And there’s a potter in Carmakville who is definitely not in awe of the Exalted. Besides which, he and his wife make beautiful dishes, and they do teach, whenever they have the time.”
“Oh, I can just imagine what Mother would say about that.” Jael rolled her eyes. “She considers Aunt Molly to be a disgrace to the family.”
“Yet Grandpa was happy enough to take the wine Mother sent with me. It was a good vintage, and I could see the greed in your father’s eyes, too, when he saw it.”
Jael giggled.
“He and Mother have prob
ably drunk a couple of bottles of it already,” she said. “They all complain about the stuff that Aunt Molly usually sends, but it’s the wine that disappears first in our household—and that happens every time you bring some.”
“That’s the wine we usually drink at dinner, and there’s nothing wrong with it. I think that your father complains about it because he knows that we produce better wine, too, and he thinks that he deserves to get that instead of what Mother gives him.”
Jael snorted.
“He can get drunk just as well on the plonk that the Shasta Wineries produce. And he does, when that’s all that he can afford to buy.”
The noises ahead of them had quietened while they talked. There was a final clang of a metal door, and then several pairs of feet began to walk in their direction. Startled, the two of them retreated behind the last corner that they had passed, silently wondering if they would have to back out even farther.
“There’s an intersection a little ways off,” Jael whispered after a moment’s thought, “and stairs going up into one of the empty buildings from there. I bet that they decided to leave that way, instead of the way they came.”
She was right. The footsteps with their lights did not come as far as where the two young people were crouching. Instead, there was the sound of climbing, then the fumbling with a door fastening, and finally, the sound of a slam and total darkness once more.
With a sigh of relief, Jael turned on the light she was carrying and she began to swiftly lead Maric towards area from where the earlier sounds had emanated.
*****
“Is there anyone in there who speaks fluent Vultairian?” Maric shouted through the door, when he and Jael had gotten a response from behind one of the closed doors.
“I do,” a female voice answered him, very clearly, considering that a metal door separated her from him. “Can you unlock the door?”
“Sorry, I don’t have a key to it,” Maric replied, “but I do want to find out who is being held in there, and why.”
“It sounds like you’ve already guessed that there’s a bunch of off-world slaves here,” the voice said, sounding exasperated. “And I don’t have the slightest idea why we were suddenly brought here.”
“You’re being hidden from Federation Inspectors,” Jael cried. “Vultairians aren’t supposed to own slaves. It’s against Federation law.”
“Well, isn’t that wonderful. Is there any way that I can get to these Federation Inspectors of yours? I’m not exactly in love with being enslaved.”
“If you can be patient for a time—I don’t know how long—I’ll see what I can do for you, and everyone else down here,” Maric said. “Now that I know where you are being kept, maybe I can do something.”
“Do you know Kati of Terra?” the voice suddenly asked.
“I’ve met her, yes,” Maric replied carefully.
“Tell her, if you see her, that you’ve talked to Ingrid.” There were tears behind the voice now. “Tell her that I don’t know how much longer I can hold on with the green girls. We’re all starting to weaken, and being underground like this isn’t doing any of us any good.”
“I promise to see what I can do,” Maric replied, while Jael was muttering urgently beside him:
“What was that all about?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know. But I think that we better get away from here and find out what’s going on in the outside world.”
They began to retrace their steps back to the hidden door.
*****
“So they’ve stashed the off-world slaves in the cellars of the Prison Complex,” Uncle Kelt said when Maric had finished the tale of his evening’s activities.
Kelt, Hector, Jorun, and the youth were in Marku’s Bistro again, sipping their morning tea, which Marku himself had brought to them. Marku had been asking for news about what was going on; seeing Kelt Carmaks with some of his Ithcar relatives in the Bistro for the second time within a day had him suspecting that Kelt had information about the events that were swirling about them. The Capital was full of rumours, he had told the men as he had served them their herbal tea, and accurate information had been hard to come by.
Kelt had confirmed the rumour that there was a Torrones Warship up above the City, and that sooner or later Warriors would descend. What exactly their orders would be, he claimed not to know, but yes, it was connected to the presence of off-world slaves on Vultaire, and to a blatant kidnapping of an important personage from the Star Federation Space Station by some Vultairian diplomats. These tidbits of knowledge had satisfied Marku for the time being, and he had disappeared through the kitchen door to resume his duties. The adults had started to consume the tea before Kelt and Hector had begun their interrogation of Maric.
“Will your cousin Jael run to the authorities to tell that you now know where the off-world slaves are hidden?” Kelt asked when Maric had finished telling his tale. “She sounds like a bright enough kid; she’ll figure out soon enough that you’re likely to pass the word to folk who are not in agreement with the present government’s policies?”
“I have asked that question myself,” Maric replied thoughtfully. “I think, though, that the answer is no. It was probably a good thing that it was Jael, and only Jael, who took me down there; she’s feeling pretty rebellious about all the restrictions on her behaviour. She wants to see things change, and she’s not too particular as to how it happens.”
“Restrictions?” Hector muttered. “Don’t those children run wild? I thought that they could do any damn fool thing that they felt like!”
Maric laughed, and shook his head.
“Only as long as what they do are damn fool things, and do not involve consorting with the lesser humans,” he said. “Jael had asked her parents to let her take pottery lessons at a shop in the Artisans’ Alley, because she was fascinated by the craft, and wanted to learn to do it herself.”
“And her parents refused permission, and would not give her money to pay for such folly,” Uncle Kelt said, making a face. “Meanwhile they think nothing of paying off Nimo’s gambling debts—and the boy’s a sorry ass at wagering. So Jael’s pissed off, naturally. And, I suppose, if one questioned her for a few minutes, she’d come out with a litany of nonsense like that. Only thing is that we have no idea how long her annoyance with the status quo will keep her from telling the authorities about the information she passed on to us.”
“Jael likes keeping secrets, especially from her adult relatives,” Maric added. “She and Nimo have had detailed knowledge of the cellars for some time, and have kept it to themselves. I don’t think that we have to worry in the short run about her blabbing about showing me where the slaves are stashed, although we shouldn’t count on it for very long.”
“We shouldn’t need the long run, should we?” Hector queried. “The Federation occupation of the city is about to happen, right? What are they waiting for, anyway?”
“Probably word as to how the attempt to rescue the VIP has worked out,” suggested Uncle Kelt. “It’ll be better, I think, if it has been successful.”
“It ought to have happened by now,” Jorun said. “At least when Roxanna and I talked with Kati and Mikal, they were getting ready to go into the Margolis Keep to pull the women out.”
“Well, I certainly hope that they didn’t run into problems,” Hector commented with a shake of his head. “The Margolises have to be among the most arrogant of the Exalted Families—and that’s saying a lot.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Uncle Kelt said drily. “After all, they’re the fools who kidnapped the Xeonsaur woman. No other proof required.”
“Well, maybe we should be grateful to them, for drawing attention to our world in such a blatant way,” Maric said cheerfully. “It seems like it had results.” He glanced up into the sky where the Torrones ship was much too high to be visible.
Jorun burst out laughing.
“You’ve got it, kid,” he said, looking at Maric delightedl
y. “now we’ll just have to do our part and get ourselves an audience with the Federation Representatives when they come down into the city.”
*****
Master Healer Vorlund arrived in the Capital City a short while before the first of the Torrones shuttles landed. He requested that the flit pilot direct him to whoever was in charge; the young Warrion who had been given the task of flying and shepherding him made a com call, and led him out of the Parking Garage reserved for Government Officials. He headed towards the Legislative Offices at a pace much too fast for the portly Master Healer. Something must have happened, the Shelonian concluded; in space, above the Capital, perhaps?
By the time they reached the ante room of Senate Chair Sartose’s office, Vorlund was out of breath. However, as soon as the young Warrion presented the Master Healer to the clerk behind the counter (an Ordinary Citizen, apparently), he was whisked further into the inner sanctums, while a couple of bodyguards stopped the Warrion from following, even though he protested loudly, claiming that it was his function to keep track of the off-world darkie at all times.
“Sartose’s functionaries will look to him,” the clerk said apologetically to the Warrion. “We have orders to send the alien in alone. You know that we cannot go against the wishes of the Senate Chairwoman.”
She directed the Warrion to a seat in the anteroom while two local bodyguards took the heavily breathing Master Healer down a hallway to large double doors that one of the guards knocked on. The door was opened from the inside, just enough to allow the Master Healer to enter. The Shelonian found himself inside an opulent, old-fashioned room which seemed one-half a working office, and the other half a pleasant living room.
The Senate Chair Sartose rose to her Vultairian height from behind a large, wooden desk, and came to greet the Master Healer. Her first words, however, were not welcoming:
“So, Master Healer Vorlund, is it? Are you here on our besieged world in a professional capacity as you claim, or are you an operative sent to spy on the legitimate Authorities?”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 76
