Abendau's Heir (The Inheritance Trilogy Book 1) (35 page)

***

Cold, so cold. Dark. A breath of air crossed Kare’s naked body. Beck was coming. He pulled against his chains but they dug in, immovable. Something touched his thigh.

He went somewhere buried inside him, where Beck couldn’t reach. Sometimes, there were others: Karia, or his father. Sonly. He burrowed into that place to see who was waiting for him. There was no one.

His hood was torn off. Beck’s words came from miles away, his face blurred…

“pit.”

The world swirled as Kare was unchained and dragged to his feet. He couldn’t walk, his leg wouldn’t work. He couldn’t retreat. He tried to hold Sonly before him, but didn’t know what she looked like anymore and he didn’t care, he just wanted it to end.

***

Sam stumbled to the door of Nina’s apartment and paused, leaning against the door in a brief moment of lucidity. He shouldn’t be here. He looked over his shoulder, checking behind him, before leaning on the bell, keeping it pressed down. He had nowhere else to go.

“Yes?” Nina asked, her voice cautious; no one who worked close to the heart of Abendau palace, regardless of their job, was anything but.

“It’s me,
” Sam said. She opened the door.

“I didn’t expect you tonight,” she said.

“Come out,” he said to her. “Please, come out with me.”

“Are you drunk?”

He leaned against the doorjamb for support. “A bit. Come on: we’ll go somewhere. I need some fresh air.”

“Let me get my coat.”

He pulled the bottle out of his pocket.
Where’s the rest of it?
Then he remembered, and smiled sheepishly. When she came back they walked out of the staff quarters to the palace gardens. He led her to the back of the kitchens, between two generators. Floodlights over the small yard illuminated anyone who might come near them.

“Why are we here?” asked Nina. She crossed her arms and hunched into her coat, and he wondered how much she'd already guessed. She was smart, Nina, good at reading between the lines.

“I’ve something I want to tell you,” Sam said, leaning in so she could hear him. “A secret.” He took a moment, hoping to get the words right. “You need to get away from Abendau: go home to Chen.”

He took a swig and the palm spirit burned his throat, making him gag.

“Then I’d have to leave you,” she said. It was casual, as if she was humouring him, but her eyes were sharp. She looked behind her, poised as if ready to run, and he didn't blame her; midnight conversations in a service yard weren't encouraged in the palace. But her rooms would be recorded, as would his– it was this or nothing. And nothing was driving him insane.

“Doesn’t matter," he said. "I’m being transferred.”

Her face showed the shock he'd felt before he'd killed it with drink. “Where to?”

He passed her the bottle. Maybe it'd help, but she refused it. The air, the clear, sweet air of the desert, was clearing his mind and he remembered, when he’d been a child, that his church had priests you could tell any secret to. They’d listen, and you’d be forgiven. He wished he could do the same here– tell them what he’d witnessed, tell them that no matter what anyone had done…. He grabbed her hands; that was why he'd decided to come to her. “Nina…”

He stopped. He couldn’t. Bad enough that he knew too much, but to risk her, too....

“Are you okay?” she asked.

No
. How could he be? He looked down at their entwined hands and pulled his away.
Dirty
. They hadn’t been clean for months, not since he’d realised what it took for a man to forget his very self. He let out a soft moan and Nina snatched his hand back.

“Sam?”

He shook his head. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell anyone.

"What is it?" she asked. "Tell me."

He had to tell someone; he couldn't hold it in any longer. Not and turn up and do his job tomorrow without cracking, and if he cracked, she'd be pulled in. Pulled in and questioned about what she knew of him in Omendegon. Better he gave her the chance to get away.

“You know I haven’t been allowed to leave the palace for the last five months?" He grabbed her hands; if anyone came, let them look like two lovers hiding in the shadows. "I told you I was on call.”

“Yes.”

“You asked me if I’d ever met them– the Banned prisoners.”

She nodded, her eyes wary. He moved closer, whispering in her ear. “I met the three ringleaders in Omendegon. Since then I’ve been treating Varnon: they assigned me to him.”

“Why you?” she asked, doubt in her voice, and he understood; he wouldn’t have believed it six months ago, either: that you could be loyal to the Empress, do her bidding, and end up in the mess he was in.

“Bad luck,” he said. “I’ve spent the last months watching a person be destroyed, bit by bit, inch by inch. In the most sadistic way you could imagine. Do you want to hear how? I’ve had his guard giving me a discourse for months.”

“No.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Sam, you shouldn’t have told me this much.”

I know; forgive me.
But he had to– if she didn’t know, she mightn’t go. Once it was in her mind, she’d have to leave or wait to get found out at her next psyche test.

“I got a promotion,” he said.

“Great.”

Her eyes met his and he shook his head, just a tiny shake. “I’m being sent to the quarries with Varnon.”

The quarries, where he’d be just as invisible as Varnon. He reached for her as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. Above him, the
stars wheeled against the clear Belaudian sky, spinning their eternal watch. When she sank beside him he knew she understood, and, for the first time in weeks, he felt able to breathe; one of them, at least, would get away. Let it be enough.

“Margueritte,” said Sonly, stepping off her transport toward the ambassador. As always– more than ever– she felt grubby before the Tortdeniel. The new base didn’t have access to wardrobes of clothes for meetings– there was the choice of new army fatigues, old fatigues, or nothing. At least the pair she’d found both fit and were clean. It didn’t seem to bother Margueritte, though– she smiled and took Sonly’s hand, clasping it warmly.

“I’m so sorry for your troubles.”

Sonly pasted a smile on her face. “Thank you, it means a lot– your support.”

The ambassador squeezed her arm.

“This way,” she said, and led Sonly to a meeting room, leather footstools around the floor to sit on, low tables beside them.

“Thank you,” said Sonly, sinking onto one and taking the small glass of scented tea offered her. She didn’t drink it, instead inhaling its aroma. She wished Michael was here, but since the death of his granddaughter he had aged, leaving her to take on a more active role. The ambassador sat opposite her, her silken dress spilling across the floor in rich pinks and golds.

“You asked to meet,” said the ambassador.

Sonly put on her warmest smile. “We’re seeking support for the Banned, funding mainly…”

Her voice tailed off at the resigned look on the ambassador’s face. This was Sonly’s third meeting in a week and each one had been a polite, often regretful, but firm no. She gritted her teeth– Tortdeniel were very nearly her last chance.

“Sonly, you must know our support was based on your holding the outer rim
and
having a viable successor in place.”

Sonly’s eyes filled. A successor, that’s what he was. Not a husband, or father, or…

“There is no evidence to say Kare is dead,” she said. “Or that he doesn’t support the Banned.”

The other woman’
s eyes filled with sympathy, and Sonly steeled herself.

“I’m so sorry,” said the ambassador. “The head of my house is in Abendau today, to see Kare give fealty to his mother. Several of the houses have already done so this week.”

Sonly set the glass down as a roaring sound came into her ears, drowning out any other thought, and her vision darkened.
Don’t faint.
She waited, the room unsteady, the footstool flimsy beneath her, and dug her nails into her palm. Only then did she realise she was shaking her head.

The ambassador moved across to her, taking her hand. “Shall I get a doctor?”

Sonly held her other hand up, waiting for the roaring to die down, and gulped in a breath. She looked at the ambassador and said, her voice shaking, “Then it’s even more important we continue to fight against her. She can’t be allowed to do this, to force her will like this. If Kare is giving his fealty, it’s forced, you
know
that.”

The ambassador gave a small nod. “What are you seeking?”

Sonly took a moment, deciding her tactics. “A thousand credits a week, to be repaid when we can. It will buy food for the children we’re safeguarding.” She held her breath; with Tortdeniel’
s reputation for philanthropy, starving children was a motivator.

“I have your word that it’s for the children.”

Sonly met her eyes. Weaponry money would have to come from somewhere else. She nodded. “You have my word.”

The ambassador took a moment. “We will agree eight hundred a week, delivered anonymously.” She paused. “You must know we agree this for the regard we hold you in and held your father in. For the faith you showed in us, and the work you allowed us to do in the outer rim.”

Sonly inclined her head. “I am grateful for your trust.” She met the ambassador’s eyes. “You know, we will rebuild. It mightn’t seem like it, but we will.”

Margueritte stood, graceful, and waited while Sonly did the same. The ambassador leaned forward and gave Sonly a formal kiss on each cheek.

“You are your father’s daughter,” she said, and Sonly’s tears spilled over and fell onto the other woman’s gown. The ambassador hugged her tighter and whispered, “You have many troubles, Sonly le Payne. May our god, the Divine one, watch over you.”

Sonly nodded, pulled away and composed herself, bowing a slight formal bow. “And may She grant you a blessing for your munificence. I won’t forget it.”

***

Later, Sonly sat in the central part of the old, previously disused, civic building that now served as the Banned base. The light in the room was dim, and when a ship came into port the extra power needed often meant it faded to nothing.

The building housed the remaining Banned group: six hundred support personnel from the old base, and an army of two thousand. It was formed around the building she was in and consisted of temporary accommodation, not fit for the winter ahead. The Banned held no planets now. She’d had to recall the army, and their ships had been chased and harried by the Empress’ fleet. Few made it, and even when they did, she feared they would lead the Empress’ forces to them, and had ordered differing positions for leaving hyperspace, ensuring there was little chance of traffic being matched and the link made. Besides, Kare had known where it was and she had no idea how long he could hold out, block or not.

So she’d moved to this one, buried in the Candelan system on a planet so remote it didn’t have a name. Their sponsors had deserted her in droves, and– tears pricked her eyes, and she wiped them– Kare was gone, and Lichio, and Rjala, and everyone she needed.

And her baby. She tried to push the thought away, not able to think of Kerra, but it haunted her. She’d so nearly got her away; Silom had almost reached the transport when the soldiers broke through to him and he'd had to run. Her fists clenched: hours, that was all she’d been allowed with her. If she could, she’d go to Abendau and bring down the bitch herself.

She picked up one of the messages in front of her with a shaking hand. She read it and set it down again, not knowing what to do. They’d been picked up by a sympathiser on Chen from the news-dump personals, and had been waiting for her on her return.

‘Care needs pain,’ had been the first. The second, slightly different, but consistent: ‘Pain applied only with care.’ The third had followed the same pattern: ‘Only to pain can I show care.’

The final one, posted today, had a contact-ref and just the word ‘Gem 1’. Sonly picked them up, shuffled them into a pile, and spread them out in front of her again.

“What do you think?” she asked Michael. He pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes and looked as tired as she felt.

“I think if we don’t make contact the Empress’ army will,” he said, his words slow, lacking their usual incisiveness. “Chen is in the Liternova system and controlled by the Hiactols– they will move robustly against it. It could be nothing. It could be someone who gets their kicks through bondage, for all I know. Or it could be someone luring us in. The reference is consistent, though: care and pain, Kare and you.” He touched the last one. “This one, though– there’s no doubt. Someone took a big chance posting this.”

Sonly pushed the messages together and tried to find the words to refuse them. The ambassador’s words came to her, about Kare giving his fealty. He wouldn’t have done that, not the Kare she knew. She took a deep breath and said, “I have to know. If there’s information on Kare, I have to know.”

Michael nodded, reached for the final piece of paper, and typed something into the computer in front of him.

“We soon will,” he told her.

***

“Doc!” Sam turned to see one of the guards gesturing to him. “Housekeeping called. Your room’s being cleared, so they’ve allocated you one near the port.”

Sam took the key from him. When he reached the room, he threw his bag on the bed before turning the light on and looking around. Pretty spartan, but serviceable. He lifted his bag and saw the message pod underneath. For just a moment, he wanted to deny its existence and not take the next step. He thought of the risks Nina must have taken, and thumbed the message request.

‘In the gardens, by the maze.
’

He looked at it for a moment longer before he ripped the filche from it and flushed it down the toilet. He picked up his coat, and headed out into the early evening dusk, under the aerial walkway to the port, and through the gardens. It seemed like he had a bubble around him, making the world distant and out of focus.

He reached the edge of the maze and shrank into the shadow of a nearby copse. He turned his head at a small noise and nearly shouted out when he saw a woman opposite. Middle aged, a little heavy around the middle, her dark skin and hair helped her blend into the shadows.