Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) (23 page)

Sadi gives them a small smile. “There is no need for an escort. I have
personal security.”

The Renlarte speaks, its voice slightly amused. “You misunderstand,
ma’am. All Others are escorted.”

“Why?”

Its smile turns dangerous, and Brando shifts silently behind me. “We
haven’t forgotten the intent behind the IPS when they first landed on
Renlarte.”

“That’s enough,” a piping voice says. The solider immediately steps
back, turning and bowing to the Renlarte child approaching.

There is something unnerving about him, something in his aura that sets
me on edge. He is young enough that his features have not smoothed out into the
sexless expression of an adult, his hair long and pulled back in extravagant
braids spilling over each other. And his mind—it’s like a vast pit, a strength
that takes my breath away.

-Be careful. It’s one of the three Consuls. They
rule here and answer to no one but the Prime Director,-
Sadi
says silently, flicking a glance at me.

The boy looks to be maybe thirteen, the age Renlarte psychic ability
peaks. All of his attention is focused on us, ignoring the soldiers he strides
through. A Renlarte haj glides behind him, a quiet shadowy assassin. It’s said
that a haj does not enter a room without knowing ten ways to kill the people
inside it.

I wonder how it would kill me.

 “He won’t,” the boy says, giving me a half smile. “The assassin
guild is very good at what they do, but are not often called to actually kill.”

The haj doesn’t blink, does not acknowledge the Consul has spoken at
all, but I feel his ripple of exasperated affection. The Consul cocks his head
at us. “The Prime Director is curious about you, Sadi Renult. And your Eleyi.” Sadi
smiles, all innocent ignorance, and the child Consul snaps, “I am not here for
your games, Renult. I don’t give a damn who your father is or what influence he
carries in the Senate halls. Here, I am law. My sisters and me. You will answer
us, or we will pull your mind apart until we find what we want.”

Brando tenses, and I feel his intent a heartbeat before he can move. I
step up, sliding in front of him. “Are threats really necessary? Sadi and I
will be happy to answer any question you’d like to ask,” I say, and attention
slides to me. I push at Brando’s mind and he relaxes a little.

The boy smiles, even while I feel Sadi’s surge of anger. “Good. Then you
will join my sisters and me for the evening meal.” He turns to leave and
pauses, looking back at us. “Just you and Sadi. Leave the guards behind. No one
will harm you in our home, but if we are displeased, they will be wasted lives.
So come without them and do not displease us.”

As the Consul leaves, shadowed by his haj, the soldiers flow forward.
“If you will follow us? You have little time before we must escort you to the
Consul.”

Sadi looks blankly at the solider, until I nudge her gently, wrapping
her fingers with my own. -
It will be okay, Sadi.-

She nods at the soldiers, and they fall in around us, leading the way
out of the empty hangar.
-We shouldn’t have come here. I screwed up.-

I don’t say anything, don’t agree, because what good will that do? -
Can
you keep it together until we’re off-planet?-
I ask.

She nods once more, squares her shoulders and picks up her pace, dragging
me along until we are almost even with the soldiers.

“Do you think we should flaunt my name?” Sadi asks, toying with the
dresses she has flung on her bed. Brando sits in the doorway, his eyes closed,
practically vibrating with tension as she worries over what to wear.

“It can’t hurt,” I say, and he snorts.

Sadi reaches for a plum sheath, hesitates, and I sigh. At this rate, the
Consuls will be in the dessert course when we arrive.

I pull a shimmering lilac dress from the pile and thrust it at her.
“This. It’s pretty. Maybe it will distract the Consuls from the fact that they
want to kill us.”

She glances at the dress, then at me, and nods. Ducks into her bathroom
to change. Brando stands, watching me. “You won’t let anything happen to her?”

“Of course not.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I won’t let
Sadi die before I find Chosi—but I swallow it. She’s supposed to be buried.

It startles a laugh from him and he nods. “Hurry, Sadi; that haj is
making Tin nervous,” he calls.

I feel a spike of indignation from Tin as Sadi steps out of the
bathroom. She takes a deep breath and nods. –
Let’s go,-
she says.

The haj is waiting and as we step off the Leen, it turns silently. I
feel her curiosity, the spark of defiance that makes her want to turn back
around, board the Leen, and take to the stars. She would have already, but the
Consul was a step ahead of us—they wouldn’t give us provisions or fuel until
after the dinner. The soldiers took us around the city, watching as we gathered
what we needed for a trip through deep space, and then calmly confiscated it
all.

-We have to go,-
I
tell her and tuck her hand in the crook of my arm as her assent washes over me.

We follow the haj through the quiet streets to a small, unassuming
house. Two Renlarte are leaning against a nearby doorframe, but I can feel
their eyes on me as we enter the small house.

An older Renlarte is standing in the kitchen, and despite the fact that
it is putting the finishing touches on some kind of roasted bird, its sharp
eyes skim us, assessing quickly before it turns back to its task.

A girl, younger than the Consul who greeted us this morning, wanders
into the hall carrying a tablet. She brushes a wisp of hair from where it has
escaped her knots, and offers a quick smile. “You’re here. Excellent. I saw you
would be a few minutes late, so I had dinner delayed. Please, come in.”

Trying to crush my unease, I follow Sadi and the Consul deeper into the
house. The other two Consuls are waiting, the boy perched on the edge of a
chair as he focuses his mind on shifting a blade. The girl is clearly the
oldest. Her features are beginning to smooth out, take the sexless quality that
is so eerie in the Renlarte. And she’s struggling to hold the knife in place
against the boy. Three haj are standing in the room, protecting the two windows
and single doorway.

I feel a pang of memory—we used to do mind exercises, albeit less
dangerous ones. Being here—it’s all reminding me of Chosi, at a time when I
can’t afford to remember her.

The oldest Consul snatches at the knife, but her brother plucks it
smoothly from the air, twirling it around his fingers, and she scowls.
“Showoff.”

He laughs, and throws the knife through the air. It flips, end over end,
toward the tiny girl guiding us and I step forward. Our haj escort pulls it
effortlessly from the air, and bows slightly as he hands it back to the Consul.

The oldest looks at us, a smile on her face. It’s odd, almost out of
place, and sets my teeth on edge. “Welcome, Sadi Renult. Juhan’tr. I am Zentra.
My brother, Tentra, and our sister, Kentra.”

First. Second. Last. I wonder if the names will change when Zentra is
replaced.

“No,” Kentra says sleepily. She’s curled on the couch next to her
brother, and smiles at us. “Zentra will end her term as Consul when she turns
sixteen next month. Another will take her place: a boy, since I was last
appointed. But he will take her title. It would be too confusing elsewise.”

I look at her, shocked by the ease with which she pulled my thoughts
from me, and she laughs. “I was born for it, Juhan. Born to serve as Consul,
and trained my whole life for my term. It’s all I know.” She pauses, grinning,
“Except for war. I’m trained for war, as well.”

“Yes, I suppose you would be,” I murmur.

Tentra motions to the small couch. “Sit. Dinner will be ready soon, but
we can use that time to get to know you.”

Sadi sits stiffly, her gaze moving nervously through the room. I place
an arm around her, drawing her back and into my embrace. My mind touches hers,
wrapping her in calm, and she relaxes a little.

“Why did you come to Renlarte?” Zentra asks smoothly.

“Provisions. We’re on our way to Pente but we needed to outfit the Leen
first.”

“But why Renlarte? There are less hostile planets.”

It occurs to me, suddenly, that they already know. Chosi lingers too
close to the surface of my mind. It doesn’t matter how hard I try; she’s built
into every thought and memory. The Consuls are well-trained, too well-trained not
to pick up something that obvious. I lean forward. “Why are you playing games?”
I ask softly.

They watch me, and finally, Tentra shrugs. “We’re children. What should
we do?

I bite back the sharp retort, the accusation that they are more than
children, that they lead this strange and hostile world. I can feel the flicker
of anger from Zentra but she shoves it down. “We came here because it was
closest. Because going to a friendly IPS planet would have taken two days of
travel, and frankly, I’m not sure my sister can afford that.”

They’re quiet, and then, Kentra says, gently, “You love her very much,
don’t you?”

It’s not a question, but it pulls my emotions to the surface in a fierce
burst, all the anger and longing and loneliness and worry spilling past the
mental walls that don’t seem to be doing  me a damn bit of good. I look
down, struggling to contain my anger and my loss and manage to whisper, “Yes.
More than I can say.”

“What I don’t understand is why you allowed her to be Taken.”

The words explode in my head and in the room, and at my side, Sadi
stiffens.

“That is uncalled for,” she snaps. The haj behind her shifts and Tentra
looks at her curiously. “Juhan couldn’t have done anything to save his sister.
To imply otherwise is cruel.”

“Is that because he was Taken at the same time?” Zentra asks.

We both go still at the question, and I feel a flicker of panic from
Sadi, a ghost of a memory—Chosi screaming, the insectile Yalten swarming—swims
in my mind before I shove it aside.

It is too late. The damage is done. Neither of us could keep the Consuls
from our minds after a bombshell like that. I shift a little, away from Sadi.
If they kill me, will they also kill her?

“Slaves aren’t permitted on Renlarte,” Tentra says softly, and I nod.

“We know.”

“Why come here then?” He is truly baffled, and I feel the emotion echoed
in his sisters. “Why risk it at all, if you could so easily go to another IPS
planet?”

I shrug, putting as much defiance as I can in the gesture. “It doesn’t
matter. All that matters is finding my sister.”

“And the lie you’ve told everyone?”
 

I hesitate, and Zentra’s eyes narrow. “The truth,” she demands.

“It was Sadi’s idea. But only because she thinks enslaving a race of
people for an odd ability is wrong. She gave me a choice. I could have gone
home.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t,” Zentra says, her face a mask of
distaste.

“Have you ever had a sister? Someone who shared every thought, every
breath, every joy and heartache, every victory and defeat—everything—with you?
I learned to fly when Chosi’le fell out our bedroom window and grabbed me for
balance. I learned to swim because she dared me to leave the treetops. The
first girl I ever kissed was a friend of hers, because Chosi felt sorry for
her. The first time a boy made her cry, I broke three fingers fighting him—it’s
the only time I’ve ever fought. I know every emotion she’s ever felt, every
impulsive thought she’s ever had, everything—I know her heartbeat better than
my own.” I hesitate, and look at them. “If you could understand that kind of
bond, you wouldn’t ask why I’d risk my life, my freedom, to find her.”

Kentra sniffles. Wordless, Zentra opens her arms, and the tiny Renlarte
girl scoots into them, curling on her lap. But it is the haj who surprise me.
They bow deeply at me, and all of them sink to sit cross-legged on the floor by
their post. It is as close to relaxing as a haj can come.

“They are twins,” Tentra explains. “You cannot become an assassin
without a psychic twin. If anyone understands your loss, it is them.”

“Enough talk,” Zentra says. “We’ve heard enough.”

Kentra stands. “Dinner is ready.”

I exchange a quick look with Sadi but she looks as confused as I am. I
squeeze her hand—when did I take her hand?—and we follow the Consuls into the
dining room, where the Renlarte I saw earlier is putting dinner on the table.

We sit, and I reach for my water as the Renlarte serves the Consuls, and
then Sadi and me.

Finally, Tentra looks at me. “Why don’t the Eleyi fight back?” he asks
bluntly.

I take a bite of the roast, the warm meat almost melting on my tongue in
a wash of spices and cream. I chew slowly, thinking. Finally, I shrug because
it is simple. “It’s not our way.”

“You mean your people are weak,” he says.

I frown and lower my fork, shaking my head. “We aren’t Renlarte. Our
people are not trained from birth in the art of killing, or psychic offensives.
We just want to live in our trees and be left alone.”