Mission To Mahjundar (3 page)

Mortally wounded, nothing I can do to help.
“Detonated too soon, apparently,” he said to himself, mentally measuring the distance from the crater to the litter as he guided the girl past the dying soldier.
 

A voice hailed him in Basic from the side of the road behind them. “Mike!”
 

He spun around, breaking into a relieved grin. “Am I glad to see you. Where's Rojar?”
 

The sergeant gestured as he took in the woman standing hand in hand with Mike. “Right behind me. Been rescuing damsels in distress, have you?”
 

“She's blind,” Mike said in Basic.
 

Rojar sprinted to join them but stopped abruptly when he focused on Mike's companion, making a sharp salute in her direction, which of course the woman couldn’t see. “Your Highness, Captain Rojar of the emperor's guard, at your service.” Waving his drawn gun, he glared at Mike. “And this person with his hands on you is Major Varone of the Sectors, newly arrived on Mahjundar. Outworlder, she can order your death for touching her—she’s a princess of the blood direct.”

“Nonsense,” said the woman in a sharp tone. “Such drastic measures would hardly be an appropriate way to reward his kindness after I requested his guidance across the plaza.” Then, and only then, did she disengage her hand from Mike's. “I’m somewhat disoriented. Are we close to the family gate?”

Taking a second to double-check, Rojar answered in the affirmative. “Indeed, Your Highness. We have only to cross the last hundred yards of the plaza. Allow me to procure a litter for you. All this blood on your dress—are you—”
 

“A scratch only, but I’m lightheaded. These gentlemen will stand watch over me while you go for the litter.” The princess nodded her agreement with the captain's suggestion. She swayed a little as Rojar rushed off in search of suitable transportation.
 

Putting an arm around her waist, Mike kept her on her feet. Quickly, he steered her to a nearby cart and had her sit on the open tailgate, kneeling solicitously beside her. “Are you sure you don't have any other injuries?”
 

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I think it’s the shock of the whole event. Only military men such as yourself remain calm in the face of bombs and assassins, right, Major?”

“Oh, the explosion left me searching for cover, I promise.” Mike laughed with her. “We weren't expecting such a rousing welcome to your planet.”
 

“I thought your accent rather unusual.” She nodded.

“And we studied so hard to get it right,” Mike said, in mock despair.
She’s getting paler by the second. Better keep her talking and alert.
“Where’s our gear?” he asked Johnny.

“I’ve wrangled it into a heap, over there, out of the way, and set two of Rojar’s men to guarding it while I located you.”

A moment later Rojar returned, accompanied by a small troop of guardsmen and a litter. After making sure the princess had no objection, Mike placed her gently on the pillows lining the conveyance. The guards whisked her through the ornate gilded gates of the palace. Mike watched her go, before turning his attention to his companions.
 

“Quite a welcome you prepared for us, Captain Rojar.” He stared more closely at his sergeant, doing a double take as he realized Johnny’s shirt was blood soaked under the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
 

“Nothing but a scratch. Don't blame you a bit for not noticing sooner, not with the princess to distract you.” Johnny punched him in the arm and laughed good-naturedly. “Better get the stars out of your eyes now though and get on with our own program. Don't recall any orders in the briefing about rescuing royalty.”
 

“I agree with the sergeant wholeheartedly, Major.” Rojar chivvied them to another, unadorned iron gate a short distance away. “Let’s get to your assigned quarters so we can have the wound attended to.”
 

Once inside the compound’s walls, Rojar led them through a large courtyard, shaded by trees with fern-like foliage. The place was bustling with servants and courtiers. Mike was relieved to get out of the crowd and into the dim, cool hallways of the palace itself, even if there were confusing corridors to be navigated. A servant waiting outside one door, apparently for their arrival, sat cross-legged on the black marble floor, idly fanning himself with a riotously colored feather fan. Scrambling to his feet as they came down the corridor, the man opened the panel and was bowing by the time Mike reached him. Following them into the room, the servant crowded Rojar, nearly tripping.
 

“This is your suite while we’re in the city, Major.” Rojar indicated the servant with a careless wave. “We should dispatch him to fetch a healer for your sergeant’s injury before the wound festers.”
 

“Won’t be necessary, thank you,” Mike said. “We brought our own medkit with us. I can take care of Johnny’s arm myself.”
 

The servant bowed nearly to the green tiled floor. “Captain Rojar, the chamberlain sent twice to remind you the feast begins at the sixth hour. You and the outworld officer are expected before the wines are brought in.”
 

“We won’t be late.” Rojar frowned. “Go tell the kitchen to serve dinner for the sergeant, here in the suite.”
 

Closing the door behind the retainer as he left, Rojar let his control slip for a minute, revealing a tired and worried face. Mike wasn’t sure he’d actually seen the fleeting play of expressions, because when the captain turned fully back to him, his countenance was as composed as ever.
 

“Pretty fancy quarters for a couple of Special Forces operators. Why do they think we need all this space?” Mike asked.
 

“And perfumed pillows to sleep on?” Johnny grimaced and tossed a few to the floor before he sat on the couch to examine the wound on his arm. He dug two more pillows out from under him, adding them to the pile on the floor. “I hope it won't hurt anyone's feelings if we rearrange a bit.”
 

Rojar didn't appear to care what they did, now that he’d delivered them safely to the palace as ordered. “You’re the honored guests, after all. Do as you please, enjoy yourselves. The mountains will be quite another story, I promise you. The clans there will serve your heads on a spit at
their
welcoming banquet.”
 

“How events play out in the mountains remains to be seen,” Mike answered, choosing to maintain a good natured tone. “Are you going to be okay, cousin?”
 

“I've taken worse knocks than this.” Opening the medkit, the sergeant sorted through his supplies one-handed. “Besides, at least all those medinjects we took will get some local bugs to battle. Hell, the injects sting more than this scrape. You go and enjoy the food.”
 

“Your dinner will be brought to you, Sergeant,” Rojar assured him. “Major, I must go change into a dress uniform for the banquet. I'll be back for you in half an hour.” He saluted and let himself out the door.

Bemused by the idea of an even more elaborate costume being required merely to dine, Mike raised an eyebrow at Johnny. “I can't wait to see the dress uniform, can you?”

Gritting his teeth as he sprayed medication on the wound, Johnny shook his head. “Gaudier than a Terran peacock, no doubt. No one'll see you for the glare of his buttons.”

“Just the way I prefer it on this planet.” Mike picked up the medkit and moved closer to help. “Now, let’s get this wound sealed. I’m not doing this mission by myself while you loll around on sick call.”

With the practice born of long years, Shalira came awake instantly when a slight shift in the air alerted her to the presence of someone in her bedroom. Sliding her hand under the pillow to clench the hilt of the dagger she kept there, she sat up, back firmly to the headboard. “Who goes there?”

“It’s only me, Your Highness.” Saium’s familiar, raspy voice was welcome.

Releasing the knife, she frowned. “What brings you to my room in the middle of the night?”

She heard a match flare and smelled the acrid smoke as he lit candles. “The emperor summons you.”

“Now?” Fear sent spikes of adrenaline through her nerves, bringing a surge of nausea in its wake. “Is Maralika going to be there?”

“No, the summons is for you alone. Kajastahn sent his body servant to waken me. I’m to bring you to his chamber through the old secret passages.” Saium was at the closet now, searching through her garments, judging by the sounds of rustling silk and clattering wooden hangers.

Shalira swung her legs off the bed, sliding her feet into the slippers she insisted the maids must line up properly, ready for her. Holding out her hand, she accepted the dress Saium handed her, recognizing her favorite by the embroidery on the sleeves. Lavender and cream, she’d been told. Her favorite colors, when she’d been able to see.

Saium’s footsteps thudded on the carpet as he moved to the door. “I’ll wait outside so you can change. Don’t be long.”

When the door had closed, she took off her nightgown, retrieved her underthings from the proper bureau drawer, and shrugged into the dress. Her hair was impossibly tousled, so she brushed it once or twice before catching the curls back in a hasty braid. Counting the steps, she reached the door.

Saium had her elbow before she could even step from her room. “We must hurry. Never a good idea to keep the emperor waiting, even in the dead of night.”

She’d no idea where they were in the palace after the first few twists and turns. Trying to count her steps or identify any of her customary landmarks made her dizzy. She surrendered to Saium’s lead, knowing he’d never allow her to come to harm. They walked for a long time through a dank hall or tunnel, apparently unlit, since Saium had stopped for a moment to grab a torch and light the flame. Brushing one hand against the wall as they proceeded, she found rough, unfinished stone under her fingertips.

“Stay away from the wall, you’ll get your dress dirty,” Saium warned in a whisper.

She yanked her hand back, feeling like a child who’d been scolded. “Where are we?”

“In the hidden passageway leading to Kajastahn’s private chambers. When he was younger, he liked to spy on his courtiers.”

Not surprised, because she knew her father to be a devious, untrusting man, she said, “Did my mother use this corridor to visit him?”

“She refused to venture in here alone, so I was brought into the secret arrangements, trusted to escort her to his rooms.”

Shalira pondered the information for a moment as they kept walking. “But why use the tunnel at all? All Mahjundar knew she was his Favorite.”

“How can you be so ignorant of the politics, living in this court your entire life?” Saium sounded annoyed. “Yes, your mother was his Favorite, but he didn’t want anyone to know
how
besotted he was with her, how much time he spent in her arms. Such knowledge would have made her even more of a target. Kajastahn trusted I’d never betray their secret. Hush now, we’re nearly there.”
 

They stopped for a moment as Saium set the torch into a holder on the wall before guiding Shalira up a set of steep stairs. At the top, her escort knocked twice and a door swooshed open. Leading her through the entrance, he said, “I’ve brought the princess, Your Majesty.”

“Took you long enough.” The supercilious voice belonged to the emperor’s body servant, not Kajastahn himself. Sniffing, the man said, “He’s gone back to sleep. Let me wake him. She can sit there while you wait in the tunnel.”

Saium guided her to a chair and Shalira sat, ankles neatly crossed, nervously adjusting her skirt. She could hear her father’s labored breathing close by. Pressing her hand, Saium whispered into her ear, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded. The guardsman had to yank his hand away from her clinging grip, but then Shalira straightened, determined not to give in to fear.
After all, this is my father. He can’t have sent for me without good reason.
She pushed away the nagging fact he hadn’t wanted to see her privately for over ten years. The room smelled of illness—decaying flesh and infection overlaid with medicinal herbs and cloying perfumes.
 

“All right, he’s awake and I’ve given him an elixir to ensure wakefulness and lucidity,” said the servant, standing right in front of her. “The medicine works for a short while.”

Startled, Shalira was unable to quell her instinctive recoil at the man’s proximity. “He’s so ill, then? The rumors are true?”

“I’m dying, girl,” rumbled the emperor’s voice from a short distance away, followed by a massive coughing spell.

The servant bustled noisily about, giving the ailing ruler something to drink and rearranging the bed pillows, Shalira decided, before asking his master, “Shall I stay, sir?”

“No. I need to be alone with my daughter, and there’s so little time left.”

“Very good.” Shalira heard the glasses and bottles clinking on a tray as the obviously disapproving servant left, the door closing softly behind him.

“Damn it, come closer, into the light.” The emperor’s admonition was harsh, although his voice quavered a bit. “I want to see you.”

Shalira stood. “I can’t see the light.”