Shrouded: Heartstone Book One (5 page)

Between the numbers, the first door would open more often than not to admit a new applicant. Eclipsis had no shortage of desperate women, it seemed. As Vashia watched them enter, she tried to guess their story, how they ended up on the street, and even how they found their way to a ramshackle warehouse full of not-so-blushing brides. She considered bolting three times before they finally called her number.

Then she stood and slid sideways toward the voice. She didn’t have as far to go. She managed to reach the door without stepping on anyone. It led to a medical unit. She might have guessed as much. The three couches inside looked a fair sight more expensive than the furniture in the lobby.
Probably why they’re sitting on crates out there
.
You’d have to cut corners to pay for all the equipment in this room.

The nurse who had called her number helped her onto a couch. Barely noticing her, the woman only looked directly at her once to ask a single question before leaving her to wait again. Vashia eyed the other two couches, both occupied, and frowned. It made sense, that question, but she certainly hadn’t considered it. She hadn’t once thought that far ahead.

The girl closest to her had her eyes closed. They’d hooked her to a medical scanner, and the bot busily ran up and down her body, measuring and recording what it found. She looked peaceful, possibly asleep. Vashia had the same thing done on her last physical, but somehow, considering the nurse’s question, it took on a sinister aspect. She frowned and watched the machine work. When the woman’s eyes opened, however, she realized she’d been staring.

“See anything new?” The woman snapped at her, pursing her face into an expression neither peaceful nor friendly.

“No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Right.” The girl lay back and stared at the ceiling.

Great. She’d pissed her off. She frowned again, but kept her gaze firmly on the ceiling. The nurse’s question repeating in her mind, suggestive of things she should have thought through, things she didn’t even know how to think about. She closed her eyes and waited. They’d probably scan her and send her home. It probably wouldn’t matter, but the words, “Are you fertile?” were amazingly hard to shake off.

D
olfan packed light
. He tossed his duffle over one shoulder and slipped through the palace wing before dawn lit the Shroud. No flags flew over the plaza. He stepped into the blush morning without his breather, inhaling the pure tang of artificial air. The stones glowed pink as the gasses overhead brightened. He spared them a moment’s inspection before rounding the circle and taking the wide stairs down.

The canyon walls cut deep into the Shrouded core, the stairs hewn from the natural stone curled against them, shadowed as they dove further from the glowing atmosphere. Dolfan shivered and pulled his wrap higher as he descended to the next level and into almost total night again. The hover pads waited.

He stood on the lip outside the hangars and looked out across the rest of the crevice. The far end rose into a shallow cleft. There the pink light already reached bottom. Dolfan saw the glint of distant buildings touched by Shroud light. The road wound that direction, past the markets and through housing to the edge of the cleft. There he’d leave the shelter of the depression to travel over the core surface and directly in the lowest layer of the Shroud.

He tucked his breather into his shirt. In the Shroud, he’d have to wear a full mask and filter. A supply of both hung inside the hangar. He turned his back on the dawn and entered the low building. A bank of screens registered the fluctuations in the core’s magnetic lanes. He paused long enough to reaffirm his route, one he had memorized for most conditions, before snatching his equipment from a slim locker.

Declination and intensity hovered nicely within standard this morning. He glanced at the screens again on the way back to verify the last transmission. All data current, feed from Base 14 verified. It should be a nice, easy ride to the platform. No variance on the way, and he’d have a leisurely trip to look forward to.

He unhooked the cables securing the nearest bike and performed a quick, routine inspection before sliding the vehicle along the rails out from under the hangar to the edge of the nearest pad. He hooked the mask onto a cargo fixture, strapped his duffle onto another and tested the weight distribution before keying in his access numbers.

The pad flared to life, a ring of light indicating the invisible cushion was charged and ready. Dolfan threw one leg over the bike seat and steadied the vehicle with the other. He checked the load weight again and found it balanced, ready to go.

A shadow stepped in front of him. Dolfan squinted at it for a second and then turned pointedly back to his bike. “Morning, Mofitan. Do you mind?” He flipped the bike’s switch and felt the surge of magnetism pull against the clamps.

“Where are you going?” Mofitan stopped directly between the hover pad and the bike. The Shroud light cast him into a dark silhouette. “Rushing off so early.”

“That’s pretty dangerous.” Dolfan raised his hand from the clamps. He’d been damn close to releasing the vehicle. Mofitan took too many risks. “I could have plowed you.”

“That’s not an answer.”“I’m going back to work, Mof.”

“To the base.”

They stared for a moment. Dolfan could see the thoughts calculating in his rival’s head. It wouldn’t do any good to explain that he needed to get the hell away from this mess.

“And I thought you didn’t want to be king,” Mofitan said. “Silly me.”

“I don’t.”

“No. Of course not. You’re just running off to work. You probably didn’t even consider that the brides will arrive at the base or that the Kingmaker is probably with them.”

“I didn’t.”

“What could it hurt to see them first?” Mofitan growled outright. “If you don’t want to be king anyway.”

“Seeing them first hadn’t entered my mind, Mof. But now that you bring it up, what difference could it make? The Heart’s choice is set.”

“The difference is, at least Haftan and I are honest. We’re not pretending we don’t want anything to do with the throne.”

“I don’t want the throne, Mof.” He didn’t. But a wiggle of guilt coursed through him. He did want the Heart. Anyone raised in its shadow would, anyone raised by parents who’d felt the bond every time they looked at one another. Hell, anyone who’d seen the stone glow for Pelinol and Lucha would. He wanted the Heart. He’d hardly be Shrouded if he didn’t.

“Liar.” Mofitan stepped forward. He leaned between the rails and put a big hand on the front of the bike.

Dolfan stiffened. He clenched his jaw and considered plowing over the other prince. Mofitan almost deserved it. They’d been at odds as long as he could remember, and as far as he knew he hadn’t done a damn thing to instill this kind of ire in anyone. More than that, he never lied. His wrist shifted and the hum revved enough to make Mof’s eyebrows go up.

He didn’t hate the man enough to murder him. But Mofitan’s look said he didn’t know that. Dolfan smiled and tilted his head to the side. “Move your ass, Mof.”

“I’d do as the man says.” Two more shadows joined them. Tondil spoke for them both as usual. “I once saw a man who’d ended up sandwiched between cushions.” He shivered, making the gesture involve his entire body. “Not pretty.”

“Morning, Tondil, Peryl.” Dolfan kept his eyes on Mofitan.

“How’s the Gauss today?” Tondil slid up alongside and casually touched Mofitan on the shoulder. He didn’t say a word to the man, but Mof shook once, tossing off whatever suicidal spell held him, and he stepped back out of the bike’s path.

“Normal,” Dolfan answered. His eyes flicked to the bike’s readout on instinct just to be sure. He’d just read the monitors, had checked them twice, but his training whispered.
Never, never trust the Shroud to stay constant.

“Good.” Tondil smiled and took an exaggerated step back. He slid a glance to Mofitan and waited for him to follow suit. Thankfully, everyone liked Tondil. Mof glowered, but stepped clear enough that Dolfan could release his ride. “Have a good trip then.”

“Thanks.” He reached down to the clamps and popped the lever before anyone could hinder him again. The bike surged up and out to bobble on top of the pad’s invisible cushion. He checked the display, flipped a switch and changed currents. The hover bike rocketed forward, spewed from the pad as the charges repelled one another. As he shot away, Dolfan caught the faint sound of Peryl’s laugh.

T
he Comet nightclub
did decent business during the day. Jarn sniffed at the haze of smoke and glared across the tables to the bar in the center of the establishment. The proprietor served drinks, leaning against the steel counter and scowling at her patrons. He straightened even further and strode across to stand beside one of the stools.

The drinkers shifted out of his way. A waitress veered sharply, spilling froth from the drinks she carried as she listed and swerved to avoid contact with him. Jarn smiled and folded his fingers into a tent on the counter surface.
Let them all get out of the way
. He’d done a great deal of work to ensure his reputation, and visual proof that he’d succeeded always pleased him. Some of the rumors he’d paid for, but the juicier ones he’d earned.

He waited for the woman to notice him. She poured a slim tumbler of something pink with smoke roiling over the lip, slid it toward a hunched trader and then turned to replace the nozzle before she looked his way.
On purpose. She must have seen me enter.
Jarn’s long fingers drummed out his irritation on her bar.

When she drifted in his direction, his lips twitched. He’d have had her flogged for it under other circumstances.

“What can I get you?” She blinked at him until her smoker’s wrinkles tangled.

“Proof that you’ve done what I paid you for.” Jarn watched for any sign of hesitancy. He saw her flinch against her conscience and knew she’d obeyed. He felt the first shiver of success and let his smile stretch. “You’ve done it?”

“Yes,” she practically snarled.

“And?” If he didn’t need the answer and some proof, he’d have killed her straight away.

“She took it.”

Jarn waited. He held back his ire and kept silent. She’d spill eventually; her guilt was thick enough to smell. She’d have to talk to be rid of it.

“I dropped her at the spot.” She reached below the bar and pulled out a dingy cloth. “She went in and she didn’t come out.”

“How long did you wait?”

“Till the deed was done.” Samra wiped at her counter and stared at the blur of her own reflection. “She signed right up, just like you said.”

Jarn held back his elation. Now was not the time to gloat. Not yet. He had a long road ahead before the celebration could begin. “You have the proof?”

“You said there’d be more credits after it was done.”

“Of course.” He smiled. It would be a pleasure to have her killed. Later. Right now he wanted to be absolutely certain. “The amount we agreed on. Transferred immediately.”

Samra bent down and rustled under the bar again. This time she brought out a thin, filmy sheet of paper. “Secretary printed me a copy.” She shoved it across to him as if it would turn on her and eat her soul, as if it already hadn’t.

He read the contract twice, almost not believing. The child had signed away her life, just like that. Kovath would be thrilled. He drummed absently and read the paper again. The next step would be harder, but there would actually be a next step now.

Samra cleared her throat and snapped his head up. “Yes?”

“The credits, Jarn.”

“Of course.” He waited for her to produce a palm scanner and key in the transaction before offering his hand. She could take the money. She could take whatever she wanted. Vashia had trusted the wrong person. Samra had made the same mistake. She eyed the screen and waited for the approval message, waited for the credits to really be hers.

Jarn wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell her to spend them quickly…very quickly. But warning the woman would take away half of the fun.

I
n the crevices
and craters of the core, the Shrouded built roads, inlaid magnetic byways that never shifted and never had to be tracked. Dolfan flew over these, between the market domes, past the rows of Shrouded houses and up through the weavers’ mills and the gem setter sheds to the very edge of the core surface.

Here he paused at a platform just below the Shroud itself to check in with security and don the necessary protection from the planet’s natural atmosphere. He wriggled into his filter, pulled the mask fully over his head and checked visibility. He tapped the side of the face-mask and the readings flared at his peripheral—Gauss normal, no variance.

He punched a release beside his thigh and the bike’s drone popped from its casing. The ball hovered next to the vehicle. Dolfan snatched it from the air and set his preferences into the system. He punched in the parameters and released the device. It sped straight up the canyon wall and waited for him at the rim, the red light flashing a steady beacon.

The bike’s engines revved again. Dolfan followed the drone guide up out of the canyon’s protection and into the Shroud. They passed the ring of emitters that kept the air below the surface breathable and disappeared into the thick gasses, into a wall of yellow and dusky pink. The drone flashed ahead, faint but visible. It would follow the planet’s natural road now, the magnetized highways in the core’s stone surface. A receptor inside the orb would gather readings from the waypoints and relay any variance to the bike’s rider in time to change course or, in the event of a serious storm, to ditch safely.

Dolfan steered the bike, his eyes wandering from the gauges to the flashing drone and back. He’d pass twenty-two relay points on the way to the platform. Each was situated just far enough apart to maintain a useable system and still allow anyone not familiar with it, anyone without the codes and drones, to find themselves lost between points. He grinned and leaned low over the bike, letting its speed and the colors of the Shroud lighten his mood.

The Shrouded were not a populous people, nor were they a militant one. He imagined that’s why they ended up here, hidden in the gasses and content to live without interference. They had been refugees at one point, conquered and expelled from their home world. Little was said about it.