The woman had been following the flow of Kati’s thought; not a difficult feat, since she was not shielding them in any way.
“We will exact a price from you,” she subvocalized, but she was smiling. “And the price is that your crew takes me along with the crystals. We would understand what is happening in the most organized part of the galaxy, and the best way to gain understanding is to see things with my own eyes, and experience them in my own person.”
“It could be dangerous,” Kati dissembled, though realizing that the woman in front of her could handle threat.
The woman smiled.
“As you have already surmised, I am not without defences.”
She lifted her hands into the air in front of Kati. They were beautiful, delicate, long-fingered hands, with perfectly oval nails. If Kati had been given to envy, she would have envied those hands. Suddenly as she watched them, long, sharp, straight talons erupted from the index fingers, from under what Kati had taken as nails. She heard Ciela gasp; the two talons retreated, and the next fingers sported them. These retreated in their turn, only to be replaced by knives on the third fingers, and then the little fingers. Only the thumbs did not display them.
“They’re lace-crystal spikes,” she heard Lank exclaim, and realized that he had the right of it.
“Yes,” the woman said, speaking aloud for the first time, in perfectly understandable language. “This is how we extrude the lace crystal. We can form it into any shape we want to, and we build everything from it—our homes, cities, everything, except those things that we form from the amber salt crystals which are produced by one of the other physical creatures which we husband.
“We will show you before you—and I—leave. In the meantime, you did bring some of the electronic gadgets that our children, who don’t come into their mindspeech until adolescence, so love? And, I suspect, that a feast of fresh foods would be very welcome to you all.”
*****
When The Spacebird Two left Crystoloria, which is how Kati and company approximated the name that the Crystolorians called their world, Chrysalia, the woman who had been the first to welcome the crew, was ensconced in the second bunk in the cabin where Ciela slept. Kati was feeling guilty for having the whole of the Captain’s cabin to herself, but the others laughed at her misgivings.
“Hey, you’re the Boss,” Lank said cheerfully. “Yours is the final responsibility for decisions, actions, everything. Accept the perks that go with the position—I, for one, don’t begrudge you either the pluses or the minuses. I’m just glad that it’s your neck on the line, and not mine.”
“Well, when you put it that way...,” Kati laughed. “I’ll admit that I liked having Mikal around when he was with us. I could hand over to him any and all problems, and expect him to deal with them.”
“Except you didn’t do any such thing,” Lank objected. “You and Mikal functioned as a team, and you two were a good team. Not to say that I don’t trust you on your own; you were quite the hot-shot Team Leader on Vultaire, and Captain Katerina is one capable Free Trader!”
Chrysalia was listening to their banter with obvious interest.
“So, what happened to this Mikal?” she asked. “I sense that he is still alive, although you, Kati, fret about him at times.”
Kati was glad that the woman had not invaded her privacy more than to acknowledge her most obvious emotions.
“He and a friend allowed themselves to be caught by our foes on Wayward, in order to begin the process of clearing out the rats’ nest from the inside, if that is at all possible,” Lank explained before Kati had the chance to formulate an answer.
He was in an ebullient mood. The Crystolorians had been generous with the supply of trade goods, as well as with the foods with which they had kindly supplied the space vessel. Besides, Lank and Ciela had spent delightful hours with the Crystolorian children, showing them the features of the latest models of Shelonian communications gadgets. The sprightly children had proved to be good students, and possessors of mischievous sense of humour, so the teens had had a great time interacting with them.
“Those kids were as much fun as Rakil and Joaley could be on Vultaire,” Lank had sighed afterwards.
“Don’t tell me that the rest of us aren’t entertaining enough for you,” Kati had chided him playfully as they secured the crystals that they were to transport out of Wilderness space, into the cargo lockers. “We’re not exactly all old fogeys, here.”
Lank had winked at her.
“Especially not you, Ship Mama,” he had said. “Which is why we’re all going to enjoy ourselves at this Farewell to Chrysalia feast that her folk have planned. Have old Granda on the alert. There are some interesting alcoholic brews on the menu. One of the parents brought some introductory tasters for Ciela and me to try. I had to tell Ciela to be very careful, since she doesn’t have a node to look after her.”
“Okay. That explains the giggles she was exhibiting when you two finally abandoned the local children. I did spend a moment worrying about her state of mind.”
“You need not have worried. The parent said that he could clear her system if that became necessary. He seemed to know about nodes, and what they can do for us, but realized that Ciela doesn’t have the benefit of one.”
Considering how much the Crystolorians seemed to know, Kati was surprised that Chrysalia was insisting on accompanying them into the Fringe and Federation space. Perhaps there was more to it than the desire for information.
They seemed to have been collecting Team members for a while, now, certainly since they had arrived at the Space Station Qupar to buy the first Spacebird. Did everything somehow reference back to that place with its odd, now you see it, now you don’t, Fiddler’s Green Inn? They had found the first Spacebird there, at Makally’s, and Darla had given them the information about what she had called the Crystal Planet. And Llon had joined them there. Llon had been the one to speak up for Ciela joining the crew; had it not been for his intervention, Kati may well have nixed her involvement. And now, Chrysalia, the Crystolorian had joined their group, and she had made it clear that she intended to carry her own weight; she was not a creature in need of protection.
Were there forces rallying around them, willing to help them defeat Gorsh, and to end his meddling with energies which a human being had no right to use?
*****
Mikal was sorry to see the three young people leave when their work was done. Their going seemed to make room for the murk to press at him and Xoraya again; the bit of space that they had succeeded in winning around their astral bodies was shrinking alarmingly.
“I don’t know about this,” he thought at Xoraya. “If we have to spend all of our energies just fighting the astral murk, we won’t be able to do much of anything useful. Got any ideas?”
“Hm. Murra, you’re more familiar with the situation than we are. Do you happen to know anything useful?”
“Two things I can think of, offhand,” the youth thought at them. “One is that the presence of optimistic people like Shyla and Tere, has a dampening effect on the negative creature’s ability to spread its gloom. The other is that Mosse does things in the laboratory, and in his attached living quarters which seem to feed and energize the creature.
“I did a shallow, mental probe just now—I can’t bring myself to dig more than that—and he went into his personal rooms after seeing the three helpers off. He’s probably being mean to the latest girl that Gorsh provided him with; that seems to always give the murk creature a surge of power.”
“It definitely feeds on negative emotions, I’d say,” Xoraya subvocalized. “Feelings of fear, and hate, most likely. Fear is probably the main one, if the Mage is into sadism, but laced with hatred, and pain, of course. And the torturer’s own disgust; that adds to the mix, too.”
“I suppose that if I don’t control my reaction to this lovely bit of news, I’ll be contributing to the negative stew that the creature apparently consumes,” Mikal commented, tr
ying not to mentally growl.
Murra smiled at him.
“That’s the tough part of staying down here,” he subvocalized. “I was taught techniques which allow me to detach myself from disturbing emotions, but the rest of you are not so lucky. That is part of Xanthus’ problem—the only way he can completely cut himself off from his anger and frustration is to let his consciousness close itself off from reality. It was easier for him when he was busy, like navigating the slave-snatching ship, even though having to do the navigation went against his conscience. Hanging around this place, unable to even leave these cellars, has been torture to him—and that, of course, only makes the torturer stronger.”
“I have some training in techniques intended to make it possible for an operative to remain calm under trying circumstances,” Mikal stated. “Perhaps I can use such to keep myself on an even keel, and keep from feeding the beast.”
“Perhaps you and I, Mikal, can struggle our way through some of the murk and explore these cellars, as much as is possible, while we await for Xanthus to come out of his resting state,” Xoraya suggested. “In spite of the depressing effect of the atmosphere, I feel anxious to do something that might be of use in advancing our cause.”
“That is a good idea, Xoraya,” Mikal agreed immediately. “We need to be doing something. Do you mind if we leave you here to mind the store, Murra, for a spell?”
Murra smiled, physically. Mikal supposed that having more company, even if it was two others, divided in body and spirit just as Xanthus was (mostly), was good for the youth.
“Go and check things out,” he urged. “Xanthus and I did that, too, when we came here the first time. But you might discover something that we didn’t, or else, one thing or another may have changed since then.”
*****
“I feel that there’s a certain similarity to the Prison Cellars of Vultaire in this place,” Mikal communicated to Xoraya at one stage during their traversing of the basement level that Mosse’s laboratory and their prison cell were on.
They had slipped through the laboratory area as quickly as they could, completely ignoring the private quarters of the Mage. There was that about the quarters which repulsed them; Mikal thought that he would certainly feel thoroughly ill if he went there, and should that translate into his comatose body getting physically sick, he would be in trouble. So he left well enough alone, at least for the time being, and, clearly, Xoraya was feeling the same way.
“How so?” Xoraya asked. “I didn’t share that experience with you, but Kati was there, right?”
“Yes, she was the first one to recognize the depressing effect of what we later found to be the Cellar Child,” Mikal said. “She tried to slip away mentally, and get help from the Forest Spirit, but was unceremoniously slammed back into her body before she got anywhere.”
“Yes, that sounds a lot like our situation. Not that we’ve been slammed into our bodies, we just have been prevented from going outside certain perimeters. And I bet that we would be slammed into our bodies if we insisted on crawling out of bounds.
“How did Kati and the Master Healer—he was there, right—break the Cellar Child’s stranglehold?”
“They didn’t,” Mikal answered. “When Kati collapsed, I sent out a mental howl loud enough, apparently, to be detected by the Ocean Sister, and one of the other persons in the cellar thought to alert the Klensers who were in touch with all the Planetary Spirits. It was those Spirits, Ocean Sister in the forefront, who broke the Cellar Child’s hold, and, eventually, took on the task of rehabilitating the Child into a positive force.”
“So, what you’re saying means that we do have to—somehow—get in touch with the positive Planetary Spirits of this world.”
“Yes, I think so. It’s just a question of how do we do it, considering how confined we are.”
“Kati and Llon will alert them once they get here, but that may take a while. And I really don’t want to just cool my heels and wait to be rescued.”
“Right. We didn’t come here with that in mind. We do need to take action of some kind.”
“I guess I was hoping that Xanthus would have something to say about that.” Xoraya’s thought felt desolate. “But he seems to be in a bad way.”
Mikal gave her a gentle mental touch.
“Maybe by the time we get back he’ll have returned to alertness,” he subvocalized. “He may well have some useful observations. He has been among these people, and The Creature, for a lot longer than we have.”
*****
“The most promising idea that I’ve come up with is to communicate with one of the people who come here once in a while to bring supplies, and to help Murra with my body, and to persuade them to find someone who has some understanding of these things,” subvocalized Xanthus Hsiss.
He had seemed less than delighted to see Xoraya, when he had finally emerged from his rest within the confines of his physical form, looking wan and worn, and Mikal had found that he could understand why. He would have felt the same way, had Kati suddenly appeared inside a mental prison in which he had been kept, to his detriment, for far too long.
“I’m sorry I’m not more thrilled to see you, my love,” he had told Xoraya. “Thinking that you’re out there, trying to get me free, is partly what’s been keeping me going, all this time. Now you’re here, caught like I am.”
“But we won’t stay caught, dearest,” Xoraya had protested. “And if we don’t come up with any way to help ourselves, there’s always Mikal’s Kati, out there. She’s coming, and figuring out a way to shake the foundations of this very world. And there’s a Watcher, a Guide, with her, so we have gained some important allies.”
“A Guide?”
The notion had apparently perked Xanthus up a little.
“So, even if the Xeon Councillors are behaving in a hidebound fashion, and refusing to consider that there may be more going on here than Xanthus Hsiss being an idiot, someone has taken notice. Someone, or some power more knowledgeable than the famed, long-lived Lizards of Xeon.”
“How did you know that our Planetary Council is not being very helpful?” Xoraya had asked.
“Because I’ve dealt with them before.” The thought had been a sigh of exasperation. “It’s starting to look like the human’s faith in the wisdom of the Xeonsaurs is ill-based.”
Mikal had broken into this expression of negativity to speak of the hope that perhaps there was some way for them to get in touch with the positive Planetary Spirits of Wayward, which the Guide, Llon, had assured them, existed.
“As I was telling Xoraya a little earlier,” he had added, “some of the Planetary Spirits of Vultaire helped break the hold a negative Spirit had on Kati and a Shelonian Master Healer, Vorlund. Of course, that negative Spirit was not in the category of this one, it was comparatively a child, but nevertheless, the principle is sound, and positive life forces always trump the negative ones.”
“They do, indeed,” had agreed the Xeonsaur Scientist. “If they didn’t, life as we know it could not exist. On their own, negative forces can only destroy, not create. All creation relies on the positive powers of the universe.”
Mikal had been glad that he did not have to try to convince the Xeonsaur of this. Instead, Xanthus had looked a little brighter and had then made the tentative suggestion that using the actual persons who came to help in their prison, as conduits, might hold some promise.
“Shyla, or Tere,” mused Murra. “They are helpful, and, Shyla especially, feels very rebellious about having been confined the way she has been.”
“Only thing about Shyla is that she is in a very precarious position,” Mikal sighed. “Gorsh is not kind to women, especially to young women who dislike toeing his line. I’d hate to increase the chances that she will be severely punished for her actions.”
“It speaks well for you that you consider such things, Mikal,” Xoraya mused. “But Shyla would roll her eyes at you. And she is in danger anyway, whether we get her to help us or not. Y
ou saw and heard the way that Mage, Mosse, treated her when she and the two boys walked through his laboratory?”
“Our choices, in any case, are limited,” commented Xanthus. “The magickal fool next door won’t do, of course. Shyla, Tere and Nic have been sent down here occasionally for some time, and recently there have been no others. Am I right about that, Murra?”
“You are. And I will speak with Shyla and Tere at the next opportunity.”
*****
“That ridiculous upstart, Judd Gorsh, seems to have run into some difficulties with his off-planet enterprises.”
The speaker was a thin older man with steel-grey hair and the olive complexion common to native Waywardians. He was pacing the length of the office, addressing his observations to a somewhat younger man who was seated behind a desk. The desk stood under a window; the office was a part of an old building. A vase of bright blossoms on a corner of the desk added a spot of colour to an otherwise drab environment. The thin man’s eyes were drawn to them as he walked the floor.
“That should mean that he has less money for bribes,” the man behind the desk commented drily. “Which ought to slow him down some.”
“Right. And the complaints about his high-handed methods are more audible when he can’t muffle the sound by stuffing cash into the cracks.”
“You’ve heard more of such, then?”
“Madame Milla Gorsh’s nearest neighbours have been telling stories that could prove to be awkward for her, and her husband.”
“Ah, so.” The seated man made a face. “Milla, the only heir of late Juv and Dee Leavan. The Leavans, when they came into the Estate, found a ruin, but managed to put things together again with a lot of hard work, some good land deals, and a noteworthy amount of shady shenigans off-planet—at least as my father tells the story. The Estate’s quite close to Salamanka, where Judd Gorsh has been buying up property and influence for quite some time now.”
Showdown on the Planet of the Slavers Page 24
