The Abulon Dance (20 page)

Triani led Eulio into the Great Hall, where long tables covered with platters of food were set up against one wall. He scooped up a handful of nuts and pressed them into his partner’s hand. “Will you be all right if I leave you for a moment?” he whispered. “I’ve got to find out about Cham.”

“Be careful. It feels…dangerous here.”

“Tell me about it.” Triani looked up at the heavily armed men surrounding them and shuddered. “I see Marselind and some others over by the door. I’ll ask him.”

“Am I beside anything edible?”

“Right beside the nuts and black bread. I won’t be any longer than I can help.”

Triani sauntered up to the group and smiled archly at Marselind. “Hi, sweetie,” he said.

There was a low whistle from one of the other men. “Have you been holding out on us, Captain? You never mentioned a girl friend!”

Triani raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure there’s a lot he doesn’t tell you,” he remarked, brushing dust off his tunic. “So, how am I supposed to find Cham in this place?”

“You might try asking politely,” suggested Marselind. He tucked his thumbs into his belt.

“Well, well. Still mad at me, I see.”

“I find you very irritating.”

Triani shrugged. “The sooner you show me where Cham is, the sooner you’ll be rid of me. Okay?”

“That’s logical,” remarked Marselind. “Come on.”

Triani followed his reluctant guide out the main doors and down a narrow, twisting corridor which had been tunneled through the rock. Suddenly Marselind picked up speed and disappeared around a corner. Afraid of being lost in the dim maze, Triani started to run in an effort to catch up and crashed into him with a thud as he rounded the corner.

Instantly a strong arm clamped around his shoulders and a hand covered his mouth hard. Triani tried to bite the hand but without success. Marselind only pressed tighter until he stopped struggling. Then Marselind released him.

“Shit!” muttered Triani into the man’s sweaty chest.

Even in his confusion, Triani could sense fear. “What’s going on?” he whispered. Marselind hunkered down on the ground, dragging Triani with him. “I don’t know yet,” he said softly. “But something’s not right. Yonan wouldn’t go out on patrol like this when we were expected, especially when we were so late. Besides, most of my men have disappeared as well as three of the more conservative Captains of the Kolari legions. Most telling of all, it doesn’t make sense that Yonan would put Norh in charge. He is considered one of the more extreme captains.”

“What about Cham?”

“When I left, he was being looked after by the Kolari women. Now I find out he has been put in the isolation cells. I don’t like it. Not any of it.”

“Can we get him out?”

“I think we’d all better get out while we can.”

“Holy shit,” muttered Triani. “Wait a minute. If all this is true, why did you wait for me to contact you? And why were you so…. Well, you weren’t exactly eager to talk to me back there.”

“The others would have been suspicious if I’d sought you out after the Q&A. I knew you’d find me.”

“Yeah. Great.”

“We are going to have to trust each other,” Marselind went on, his voice tight. “You will have to get Eulio down to this passageway on your own. Can you find your way back with him?”

“If I have to. But what about Cham?”

“This tunnel leads to an exit onto the mountain. We can get to him through the air vent. I know the way.”

“And Luan?”

“Luan is my business.”

“How much time do we have?”

“About half an hour. I can arrange for a diversion in the Great Hall that should give you a few minutes. During that time, you must get Eulio out and down into these tunnels.” Marselind stood up again. “Can I count on you to follow instructions?”

“Look, sweetie, I know you don’t like me but I’m not stupid. You can count on me.” On the other hand, he thought, as he followed Marselind back along the maze of passageways, this might be more difficult than it looks.

NINETEEN

The woman stood in the sunshine, her fingers sifting through the myriad of silver threads that drifted from a series of curved pieces of wood fitted into the wall. Dreamlike sounds wafted through the air, layering, overlapping, creating a mood rather than a melody.

Thar-von was entranced. He sat motionless, leaning forward in his chair. The combination of visual and aural beauty was almost painful in its intensity. When she stopped playing, he was speechless for a full minute.

“You did not enjoy it?” she asked at last, her face clouded with concern.

Thar-von snapped to attention. “It is the silence of wonder,” he said. “It is almost too beautiful.”

She relaxed into a smile that lit her entire person. Around her neck, the Serpian figurine glowed in the sunshine. “I asked you here a little earlier than the Merculian,” she said, “for a very selfish reason. We have had so little time together and yet I feel that we have so much to say to each other.”

“I feel the same way,” he agreed, knowing he should not say such things to her, that she would misinterpret his words. But he craved the intimacy of this moment, even if it would be only a short time before Beny arrived.

Outside, beyond the roof garden, the crowds of merrymakers in the street below shouted and waved their wooden clappers as the first part of the procession came in sight. Xunanda rose and came towards him, holding a small object wrapped in flame red material in her outstretched hands. “Today is our Festival of Dreams,” she said. “At this time of the year, it is one of the customs to make a mask of the special ones in our dreams to show what has been revealed to us about them.” She laid the object in his lap. “It is only a symbol,” she went on quickly. “It is not meant to be a portrait.”

Thar-von unwound the material and looked at the small, wooden mask, carved skillfully from the soft green wood of the kahadari tree. It was the primitive face of a stoic, long and narrow, quite unlike his actual face. The only thing recognizable about it was the symbol of Serpianus carved on the forehead.

“The clip on top is so you can attach it to your belt,” she said. Thar-von rubbed his pale blue fingers across the soft swirls of the wood. For one brief moment he wished he was not a man of honor. The words would be very difficult to say. “I am not allowed to dream about you. It is forbidden,” he said at last, holding out the carving.

“You cannot return a dream-gift,” she said. She put her hands behind her back. Then she turned and walked onto the terrace, leaving Thar-von alone.

The Serpian clenched his right hand into a fist, willing his mind to clear of the swirling emotion that threatened to cloud his judgement. In a moment, he took a deep breath and followed her. “I apologize if I have offended you. It is the thing farthest from my mind.”

She was standing by the flowers that spilled a riot of color out of the pottery urns lining the edge of the terrace. One brown hand touched the figurine resting between her breasts. “I did not want to follow the tradition of the third party presence with you,” she said.

“Explain what that means, please.”

“It means behaving as if a third person is present when we are together. It means never touching, never really being…intimate in any way.”

“I, too, regret that very much. But it is necessary, Xunanda. To behave in any other way is not possible for me. I am a Serpian. I have taken the vow.”

She turned towards him and smiled, her face full of sadness and understanding. “So be it,” she said. She took the mask from his hands and fastened it to his belt. When she turned away, Thar-von let out his breath. “This does not change why I invited you and the Ambassador here. The ‘disappearance’ of the young Merculian brings back painful memories to me. Someone close to me also ‘disappeared’. His body was found months later in the hills. People are afraid, Thar-von. That’s why there has been no response to the Dance Company’s pleas for information. It is not the amount offered. If it were, I would add to the sum myself. It is fear.”

“Do you not agree that if the reward is high enough, there is always someone who will overcome his fear in order to claim it?”

“It is possible,” she said. “Fear is something that can be overcome.” She turned and smiled into his eyes. Thar-von felt his familiar careful world slip sideways.

* * *

While Thar-von talked with Xunanda, Beny was dealing with an unexpected visitor. He gazed at the First Minister open-mouthed. The Abulonian was resplendent in a long cloak of multi-colored feathers. His chest was bare and around his neck on a leather thong hung a great painted bird, its wings spread wide, its beak pointed to the sky. He wore a short leather kilt and two small masks carved from the green wood of the native kahadari trees were attached to his belt.

“Oh my,” said Beny at last, in genuine admiration. “You look wonderful!”

The First Minister threw back his head and laughed. Then he was all seriousness again. “I wanted to see you before I join the procession. It seems such a happy time out there but let me assure you, there is great danger. I cannot spare any Hunters to guard you. They are all involved in the ceremonies in one way or another. The degenerates in the hills would like nothing better than to disrupt this special day, and you are the perfect target.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Beny replied unsteadily. “I have issued orders to all my staff, as you requested.”

“Good thinking,” Tquan said approvingly. He reached over and punched Beny’s upper arm, but more gently than usual, Beny thought. “We will see you at the banquet tonight?”

“Certainly.”

“Good.” With a final grin of good will, the First Minister swept out of the Merculian’s apartment. Beny rushed back into his sleeping quarters and began to get ready to meet Thar-von. Tquan had caught him in his yellow robe, which was probably just as well, since he certainly didn’t look ready to go anywhere. For once, Beny thought, luck was on his side. But would it last? As his trembling fingers did up the buttons on his tunic, he wished Thar-von had not gone on ahead. How much danger would there really be out there in the holiday crowds? All the men carried knives as a matter of routine, he knew that, but who would really want to kill him? Not Yonan, surely. They were in the midst of negotiations. But suppose there were other factions out there, people who didn’t agree with Yonan? Or with the Chief either, for that matter. And how much could he trust the First Minister?

Beny felt close to tears as he fastened on his jewelled dagger. Much good that would do me, he thought. It was for ceremonial purposes only, its real use lost in the mists of Merculian history. It was centuries since they had had to fight for their lives, nothing left of this fabled era but the jewelled daggers presented to each Merculian at his coming of age ceremony. No matter. Beny would keep his appointment with this Xunanda person. Eulio and the others would soon be there. Please gods of the galaxy, just let us all get there in one piece, he prayed. He started down the long corridor, thinking again of the words of warning. He did not want to go out there all by himself. It would be difficult to find his way in the crowded streets, with the tall Abulonians blocking his way at every turn. Still, he had a map of the back ways that would be less traveled on this special day.

He paused outside the open doors of the Festival office. It occurred to him that he ought to unlock his private drawer and leave the channel to the I.P.A. accessible, in case he didn’t make it back. Only Talassa-ran was there, diligently tending to the humming machines and power packs, no doubt doing things twice, three times, to keep himself busy. Beny slipped past him quietly and opened the door to his private office.

As he closed the door behind him, a dark shape loomed up from behind his desk. Beny stifled a scream, both hands clamped down hard over his mouth, his round Merculian eyes stretched wide in fright. An Abulonian male stepped into the light, both arms held high in the air to show he was unarmed. His long greying hair was matted and tangled, his clothes and dark craggy face streaked with dirt.

“Who are you?” Beny stammered, when he could talk again.

“I am Akan. I come from the hills.”

“How did you get in here?”

“The tunnels. There is no time to explain. You must warn the Great Chief his life is in danger. I cannot do this. My face is too well known. Once I show myself out in the open, I will be arrested as a revolutionary.”

“If you’re a rebel, why do you want to warn the Chief?” Beny asked.

“I was always against assassination. When the topic came up, as it did many times, I voted against it. I thought that saner heads had prevailed. Then one time last week, I was out on patrol and I intercepted one of Norh’s messengers. That’s how I learned about the plan to murder the Chief.”

“Oh god! When?”

“Today. During the Procession, when the Great Chief is on his way to the Hill of Dreams.” Akan stopped talking and held his side. He was breathing with difficulty. “Excellency, my family has disowned me. You are the only one I could think of who has a chance to get close to the Chief. He will pay attention to you.”

“Well, I—are you hurt?”

“It is not important. Go, now. There is no time to lose!”

“But….” Beny reached out to the man as he stumbled. The urgency of the feelings he picked up at the contact, made the Merculian jump back in alarm. “All right, I’ll try. Will you be okay?”

“Just go!”

“Wait here. I want to talk to you when I get back.” Beny spun around at once and went into the outer office. His heart was pounding. It was bad enough having to go outside at all, but now he would have to cut right through the most crowded part of the city, right across the procession route, in order to intercept the Chief.

Talassa-ran stood at attention when he saw Beny. “Excellency, the others have left their jobs and have their noses pressed to the windows,” he said, disapprovingly.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m going out.”

“But Excellency, you yourself gave the order to stay indoors.”

“I know. Something very urgent has come up. I must get to the Chief. I thought someone should know, just in case.”