Abendau's Heir (The Inheritance Trilogy Book 1) (2 page)

He flew straight at the fleet. There was no room for his ship, no hope of anything other than a collision. Despite himself, he braced, muscles bunched, hands clenching. He had full control of the ship now, holding its pattern in his mind; no thruster could move the ship with the deftness he needed.

A bolt passed him. The cruiser, looking to disable him. He squinted, assessing the Roamer fleet, seeking its patterns. He had moments. He held his course, trusting to luck, trusting to anything that might keep him safe.

The fleet shifted at the last moment. He yelled as his ship scraped between two of the Roamers, flinched as another appeared, and banked obscenely hard to avoid it. He passed three more ships, each pilot connected to him, each holding the pure Control of space only a few psychers had, and then he was through the fleet to the other side, into clear space. He let out a whoop, punched the air and sped up, leaving the cruiser with a fleet to navigate through, too far behind to keep track of him.

“Take that, bitch,” he muttered. He swung his chair round, ready to tell the kids they could unstrap, but they already knew; they were standing in the doorway, calmer than he was at yet another attempt to take them. A brief spark of fear chased a shiver through him. What if today had been the day they were taken? That thought haunted his nights, his days, fuelled his paranoia: that he hadn’t done enough to protect them; that he never would.

“You slaughtered it, Dad,” said Kare.

Ealyn’s face broke into a smile, and the moment was gone, because they were still with him, still not taken. He went to the twins and embraced them, holding them close. He could feel how thin they were under their flying suits, the fragile bones of their spines. He tightened his arms and they hugged him back. His gaze drifted to the viewing port and space outside. The Empress could look, she could send whatever she had after him; he wasn’t going to give his children up, not knowing what she would do to them. He watched, alert, holding his children. Sooner or later, the cruiser would come again, or another one. The price on his head was too high to be passed up. He let the children go. “Go on, both of you, scoot.”

He brought up the nav-computer. Not that he needed it. He could feel the proximity of Calixta, the nearest star and system. Space here was remote, its planetary spread barely populated; any ship stood out too easily. He brought up a course for a shipping lane allocated to the Ferran system, imagining the change in space that would come as he neared its star, Ferrus, a bright pull in that sector of the cluster. Straddling the space between the remote outer systems and more populous middle three, its hub would provide easier camouflage. Decided, he punched in his course. He might not need the nav-computer, but the star drive did. The familiar whine as it started up told the kids to brace and, with a nauseating twist in his stomach and a jolt, the ship sped away, stars blurring into something too fast for even a Controller to track.

He leaned back in his seat, stretching. A shower and a shave would make him feel human, and he knew to seize the moment when he could. He made his way along the ship's access corridor, his steps echoing off the metal floor, past his alleged cabin– he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept there– but a thud from the kids’ cabin stopped him.

“You pushed me!” Karia’s voice trickled into the corridor, high and insulted.

“I’m telling Dad!” Kare this time, just as insulted.

“If you do, I’ll tell him about the mice.”

Mice
?
What bloody mice
? Ealyn pushed the door open. “I’m all ears.”

Both twins turned, their faces masks of guilt. Ealyn leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “On a spaceship? As the pilot, I need to know.”

Kare’s eyes flicked from side to side. His face cleared. “
Dice
. We lost them.”

Karia nodded, too eager, making her hair fall over her eyes. “Yeah, we can’t find them anywhere.”

Ealyn scowled and looked around the tiny cabin. Even with only one bed pulled down– at seven, the twins could just about fit, sleeping end to end– it was cluttered and messy. How could it be otherwise? The cabin had been everything to the kids for two years– sleeping quarters, school and playroom unless they used the freezing hold. For a moment, he wanted to let them have their mice. Any other child was allowed a pet. But it was too dangerous; this ship was all that kept them safe. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look for the
dice
.”

Karia winced. “Dad, it’s okay, we’ll do it. Won’t we, Kare?”

“Very good of you both, but I’d like to help.” He opened a locker, ducked a pile of tumbling clothes, and cursed. He tensed at a definite squeak and raised an eyebrow. “Where are they, Karia?” She didn’t answer, just looked at her brother who went to say something, but Ealyn cut across him. “
Now
.”

“Over there.” Karia pointed at a pile of clothes bundled in the corner. Behind, artfully hidden, was a small cage. Nestled in some fabric, possibly the remains of an old t-shirt, were four– he counted again– no,
five
brown mice. No doubt brought on board during their last maintenance visit to the Banned base and hidden.

He lifted the cage. He had to say something, make sure she knew how important this was: mice could eat through cabling. He looked from one twin to the other, taking in the shared stance. This wasn’t just Karia’s doing.

She was the one who looked up, though, her face pinched and worried. “Daddy, they were going to die if I left them on the base. Sonly couldn’t have made them better, they needed a healer.”

“That’s right.” Kare’s head came up. “You said we had to practise psyching. It was hard for Karia, they were so sick.” He nodded at the neat cage. “And it took me ages to make the cage. It was hard without soldering.”

Ealyn winced at the thought of his son practising metal-work onboard the ship, but his mouth twitched. The practice excuse was about the only one they might get past him. He found his anger melting at the kids’ huddled stance, their worry that they were in trouble. It was easy to forget they were only seven, no matter how smart and talented.

One of the mice squeaked, loud in the quiet cabin. It appeared to be looking at him. What was he going to do with it now it was here? He thrust the cage at Karia. “If they get out, I’m putting them in a stew.”

“You wouldn’t!” Her eyes went round.

“Cool,” said her brother. “Mice stew, it’d be better than reconstituted.” He touched the cage, his fingers thin and nimble. “Go on, Karia, give us one–”

“No!” She swung the cage to the side.

Ealyn grabbed it. “Enough! They’ll escape if you keep flinging it around.” He took the cage. The damage was done and, short of killing Karia’s pets, he was stuck with them. “We’re teasing. But when we’re back on base they get handed to Sonly and she can take care of them.” He softened his voice; his kids had little enough, it was no wonder she wanted to keep them. “We can’t have mice. Not on a space ship. You know that.”

She gave a small nod and he patted her shoulder. He wished he could find a way out of this mess to a normal life where she could have a colony of mice and he wouldn’t have to care. He turned away, his throat tight. He was lucky to have this small life together. If the price for it was living as he did, constantly on alert, he’d pay it; he couldn’t face the alternative, and the loss of them.

***

After breakfast, Ealyn looked at his son.
Today
? He had to do it sometime– he’d been putting it off for months. He rocked back in his seat. “Any more dreams, Kare?”

“Every night.” Karia pulled a face of disgust. “He talks in his sleep.”

“I don’t.” But the boy didn’t sound his usual cocky self; the dreams, whatever they were, hadn’t been the deep ones of forgetful sleep.

“You do. You tell me things when I ask you.”

“Don’t.” The denial was too strong, almost desperate, and he gave Karia a shove.

Every night?
Worry gnawed at Ealyn’s insides. It couldn’t wait any longer; if the dreams were visions they’d start to cascade soon, and the boy had to be taught to control them. His hands had clenched together, and it was an effort to unclasp them. Could he teach the boy and not succumb? Surely after seven years of not Seering he could manage to show the boy once, and then keep an eye from a distance.

“Kare.” His voice croaked past his tight throat. “Come with me.”

He left, heading down the ship, Kare behind him, and tried to ignore the churning deep in his stomach, the low warning that this was a bad idea.

Kare followed his dad, trying to keep from showing his excitement, but it was hard. Dad had been teaching Karia Control for ages, but had refused to let Kare learn to Seer, saying they had to be sure what the dreams were first. His dad flung open his cabin and nodded at the bed. “Sit down– I need to get something.”

He got down on his knees and rummaged through the contents of an under-floor storage compartment. A few moments later he lifted out a small wooden casket. He handed it to Kare, who ran his hands over the carvings on each side. They were just deep enough for him to track by sliding his fingertips into the runs, and felt like writing. “What is it?”

“It’s for you. Open it.”

Kare moved the little catch– it fitted his fingers perfectly– and the box sprung open to reveal a prism lying against a dark velvet interior. He lifted the prism, holding it by its silver chain so it twisted and caught the light. “Is it…?” he croaked.

His dad nodded. “It’s a Seer’s prism. It was given to me, many years ago, by an old Seer.” He had an odd smile on his face. “He was a Roamer, he said.”

“Can I use it?”

“Yes, I’
ll show you.” His dad reached for the prism, his eyes focused on it, becoming soft and distracted.

“Are you okay?” asked Kare.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Tired.” His dad squinted like his eyes were sore, and reached up to a hook in the ceiling. He clipped the silver chain to it, and the prism cast lights all around the cabin. Kare bit his lip. This was it, he was going to step into the future and see what lay ahead for him. He couldn’t wait to tell Karia. He took a breath, and it was jerky. The cabin shimmered at the edge of his vision, as if it was fading, but when his dad sat on the bed beside him, making it rock, things came back to how they had always been.

“Okay. First, don’t keep the prism up all the time. That’s what the Empress did to me, and it leads to the Seer becoming trapped in the future.”

“Right.” The lights danced, and the room faded again. In the distance, Kare could hear soft singing.

“When you’re in the vision, keep focused on me. I don’t want you under too long the first time. When I call you, you need to come out.”

Kare nodded. His father’s voice was coming from far away, and the cabin had almost gone, replaced by somewhere that overlaid it, so that neither was quite real.

“Okay, look at the prism, not the lights. Focus, and you should find yourself moving.”

The prism twisted before Kare. The cabin grew warmer, the sound of singing louder. He was standing on soft carpet, the pile warm under his feet.

“Where are you?”

What was the voice? He frowned, straining to remember.
His dad.
He had to remember to listen to his dad….

“I’m in a house. It’s very tidy.” It was, much more so than the ship ever was.

“Are you yourself?”

Kare looked down. How did he know? It felt like he was too tall and the floor was too far away. “I don’t know.”

“Describe what you see to me. Take your time.”

Kare walked forward, following the singing. He was in some sort of living pod, all white walls and metal. A few holos sat on a shelf and he stopped to look at them. In one, there were two boys. The first looked like him, but with light hair. The other was a giant of a lad, a shock of red hair making him appear angry. Kare looked closer; the first boy
was
him, older and blond but definitely him.

“I think I’m me; there’s a holo.”

He frowned, looking at the other holos. There were none of Karia or his dad. His stomach jumped, a sick rush of nerves. The singing stopped and a moment later a woman walked into the room. She smiled. “Kare, I thought you were out.”

He went to reply but someone called his name, someone he should be able to place, but couldn’t. The voice was faint, as if it came from far away.

“Kare!” It was his father. But where was the ship?

“Think about how the cabin feels.” The voice was terse, worried. “Concentrate.”

He closed his eyes, trying to focus, but when he opened them and the cabin appeared it was hazy, so that it was hard to tell where he stood. A rush of nausea hit him as the air grew colder. The quiet hum of the ship’s generators surrounded him, their gentle purring familiar. He blinked and saw his father crouched in front of him, his face worried.

“You okay?” asked his dad.

Kare nodded. He thought so. “I feel a bit sick.”

“That’ll pass.” His dad put his hand on his shoulder, his strong hands massaging the muscles, as if checking Kare was real. “You were away too long; you need to try to come back quicker.” He sat on the bed. “Where were you?”

“I dunno. A house. There was a woman.”

“What did she look like?” His father’s voice was too eager, sharp and questioning.

“Red hair. Blue eyes– really blue. About your age, maybe.”

“Gods.” His father had paled, a distant look in his eyes.

“I only saw her for a minute,” said Kare. Was something wrong with what he’d seen? “But she used my name, so it was definitely me.”

“You did good.” His father seemed to have composed himself a little. He held up his hand, displaying the signet ring he always wore. “We’ll get you a ring so you can tell when it’s you.”

He stood and reached for the prism. Kare lay on the bed and curled up, all shivery and headachy and tired. His father put one hand on the clip, holding the prism steady with the other. A flash of light reflected in his eyes, and his face changed. He dropped his hand. His throat moved as he swallowed; he looked at Kare with eyes that were dark and hard to read.