The Abulon Dance (27 page)

“Not a chance, sweetie.” Triani leaned on one elbow and studied the haunted face. “Look, we have to get some sleep. There’s a rehearsal called for tomorrow. Do you feel up to it?”

“I can handle it.”

“Good. There’s a rumor going round there might be one final performance before we go home.”

“You mean I might get to dance with the company after all?”

“Don’t get too excited yet. If they decide to do it, I’m asking Nevon to do ‘Twilight Kingdom’. There’s a solo in it for you. What do you say?”

“You mean the Moonbeam Child? You taught me that one months ago. I won the National Competition with it.”

“It was that performance that got you this trip, you know, not me. Are you up to dancing after what you’ve been through?”

“How long have we got?”

“That’s more like it! Probably about four or five days.”

“Do
you
think I can do it?”

“Yes. If, that is, we get some sleep. Now, will you take one of those damn sleeping pills of Eulio’s?”

Cham smiled. He was looking more relaxed than he had for some time. “Will you hold me after I take the pill?”

“That’s what I’m here for, sweetie.”

“Just hold me, though. Promise?”

Triani sighed. “And he thinks I don’t give a damn,” he muttered, taking Cham in his arms carefully.

* * *

The next morning, Triani insisted on seeing his partner.

“But the Conte Eulio is in bed,” said Dhakan worriedly, as he followed Triani across the room. “Let me find out if he wishes to see you.”

“Shit, man! He’s always in bed! That’s the problem!”

Dhakan stepped nimbly in front of Triani and blocked the door to the bedroom with his stocky frame. “Please. I am supposed to look after the Conte Eulio for the Ambassador.”

“Look, sweetie, you’re doing a fabulous job. So fabulous he doesn’t need to get out of bed at all, don’t you see?”

“Those are my orders. That is what the Ambassador wants me to do.” He didn’t move from the door. Triani tapped his foot impatiently. “Hell, I haven’t got all day for this. Wouldn’t you like to do something really terrific for the Ambassador?”

Dhakan’s copper eyes glittered as he stared down unblinkingly at Triani. “I would do anything in my power for him,” he said, with such intensity that Triani stepped back involuntarily. “Explain what you mean.”

“I can get Eulio out of bed, if you let me in there.” Triani looked up at Dhakan, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “What do you say?”

The man was silent a moment, his expression uncertain. “You will not harm him?”

“I don’t make a habit out of beating people up. Besides, he’s as strong as I am; he just doesn’t look it.”

Dhakan continued to stare at the Merculian, obviously trying to make up his mind. He was not used to having to make decisions.

Triani sighed in exasperation. “Shit, man! He really will get sick if he goes on lying there feeling sorry for himself!”

Slowly, Dhakan nodded his head. He opened the door. “You have a visitor, Conte Eulio.” He stood aside to let Triani past. The copper eyes, full of pity, looked at the slight figure on the bed and glanced back at Triani. He closed the door quietly behind him. Eulio lay back against the pillows, his eyes closed, a lacy white shawl over his bare shoulders. The fine bones seemed very prominent in his pale face. His hair had been carefully brushed.

“Who is it?” he said listlessly. “I don’t want any visitors.”

“Just me, sweetie. I came to dish a little dirt and see why you aren’t up yet.”

“Why should I get up?”

“Why the hell not? You’re a dancer, baby, not a vegetable!”

Eulio turned his head away and didn’t answer. Triani wandered around the large, sunny room examining the ornaments on the shelves, the bottles of perfume and cream, the brushes, combs and lotions set out along the edge of the pool. He ran his hand over the narrow, engraved case that held Eulio’s Merculian pipes. At last, he stood by the bed, staring down at his partner, a calculating expression in his black eyes.

“Don’t stare at me!” snapped Eulio irritably. “I can feel it.”

Triani sat down on the edge of the bed. “Just what the hell are you trying to prove?” he asked conversationally.

“I don’t have to prove anything. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

“I wouldn’t have believed that you’d just give in—abdicate like this. You’re turning everything over to the Mincing Bastard on a silver platter.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Eulio wearily. “You can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like morning, noon and night. Darkness and fear and helplessness. So just go away and leave me alone!”

“Oh, baby, you’re a bundle of laughs today! No wonder poor old Orosin looks like death warmed over these days. You probably won’t even make love to him any more.”

“Shut up!” Eulio’s hand, aimed at the sound of Triani’s voice, was very accurate. He hit the side of his face a glancing blow. “Get out of here, damn you!”

Triani laughed and caught his wrist. “That’s more like it! Did I get too close that time? Can’t get it up any more, sweetie? Not feeling sexy in the dark?”

With a cry of rage, Eulio kicked free of the bedclothes and leapt at Triani, feet first, lashing out at him with all the power of his well-developed muscles. Triani was not prepared for this. With a grunt of pain, he dropped Eulio’s wrist and bent over his groin protectively.

Eulio scrambled back to the other side of the bed, waiting, tense, crouched ready to spring if attacked. His deep blue eyes were wide open and bright, his cheeks flushed with color. The sun turned his hair a dark, gleaming gold. “Holy shit, Eulio! What are you trying to do to me?” Triani massaged the inside of his thigh. “If you’d been a bit more to the left….” He turned his head to look at Eulio and suddenly grinned. “Hey, you’re gorgeous when you’re mad. Especially naked and mad.”

Eulio pulled the covers around himself hastily. “I’m not naked,” he said stiffly.

Triani shrugged. “That little piece of lace doesn’t count.” He straightened up cautiously. “It would be a pity to let all those lovely muscles deteriorate, wouldn’t it, baby?”

“You’ve got a colossal nerve, Triani.”

“I know, sweetie, and I agree. Your sex life is no damn business of mine. Besides, it’s probably one hell of a lot more interesting than mine is these days.”

“That’s not what I hear from Serrin.”

“So, you have had some visitors.” He flexed first one leg and then the other. Satisfied, he sat down again. “Want to hear the latest? We’re going to give a final performance. Apparently Luan is alive after all and we’re going to dance for his Coming of Age Day, or whatever the hell it is.”

Eulio stopped rubbing his wrist and raised his head alertly. “Go on.”

“We’re doing ‘Twilight’.” Triani was watching Eulio’s face closely.

“I don’t believe it!” The color drained from Eulio’s cheeks. ‘Tales of the Twilight Kingdom’ was one of his most famous roles. It had been created for him to dance with Triani six years ago. No one else had ever performed it. More than any other work, it was a celebration of their peculiar, intense partnership. “It’s not true. Is it?”

“Nevon announced it this morning.”

“The bastard!” Eulio pounded the bed with his fist. “That’s mine! He can’t do this to me!”

“You’re doing it to yourself. What do you expect? He’s got a company to run. It was on the closing night program in the first place, and this will be our farewell performance.”

“But it’s my part!”

“Baby, you’ve done nothing but sit around on your gorgeous ass for days. Nevon did try to see you. Remember? You wouldn’t let him in.”

“But he promised! It’s mine! I always….” Eulio was incoherent with emotion. “Oh, Triani, you’re not really going to do that show with…with Alesio?”

“The Mincing Bastard in person, sweetie. It wasn’t my idea, but what can I do? It’s in my contract. If you’re not available, I have to dance with your understudy.” He moved nearer to Eulio, watching his face intently. “Are you available?”

Eulio didn’t answer right away. His small fingers were twisting in the sheets. “Damn,” he said softly. “He’s not going to get away with this. He didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me.”

Triani began to smile, a look of satisfaction spreading across his face. “You didn’t answer me. Are you available?”

Eulio drew his knees up to his chin under the blankets, a worried frown on his face. The sudden anger was beginning to fade now, and he was starting to feel fear. Triani could sense it. He moved closer and took Eulio’s hand. He didn’t say anything.

“You’re serious about this touch-dancing thing, aren’t you?” said Eulio

“I’m serious.”

Eulio moistened his lips. “It could work. There aren’t many solos and Alesio’s been dying to do them.” He was running over the choreography in his mind. “We’d have to make a few changes. The section with all those pivots in a circle would have to go, for instance.”

“We can work all that out.”

“Triani, this is asking an awful lot from you. I mean, you’d be going way out on a limb trying a crazy stunt like this. What if I fall flat on my face?”

“You get up again. What else?”

“It could be dangerous.”

“We’re on Abulon, sweetie. Of course it could be dangerous. You probably haven’t noticed, cooped up in here all the time, but the whole place is an armed camp.”

“I don’t know. There’s not much time to rehearse.”

“Shit, baby! You know the damn part inside out, and the stage is exactly the same dimensions as the one at home.”

“I’m scared.” Eulio was trembling.

“Baby, I’d rather dance with you deaf, dumb, and blind than with anyone else in the universe.”

There was a short silence. Triani dropped Eulio’s hand and moved back to the edge of the bed.

“I feel that way about you, too,” said Eulio, smoothing the blankets over his knees.

“Oh, shit! Let’s cut the sentimental crap and get down to work, okay?”

“Thanks, Triani,” said Eulio.

TWENTY-SIX

The First Minister sprawled half naked on the pile of furs on his couch, picking his teeth with the point of his hunting knife. He had just dismissed the young girl who had been warming his nights lately. Even she was no longer able to distract him. Thanks to the meddling of the wretched Merculians, things had moved much too fast. Tquan was beginning to sense he was no longer a favorite at the gaming tables.

He strapped his knife back on his arm and got to his feet. Outside, an uneasy stillness hung in the late morning air like a fog. Tquan shrugged into his soft leather shirt and pulled on his boots. It was almost time for the head of his secret security force to check in. For years these top secret meetings had been held every morning at the same hour. This was how Tquan kept in touch with the complex web of intrigue spun from his fertile, devious mind. For Tquan, there was no such thing as loyalty. It was always possible to find someone to betray a friend, a master, anyone in a position of power over them, for a price. No one could be trusted, and it was important to keep reminding those who served him, how much they owed to him, how easily he could ruin their lives, should they decide to betray him. Everyone would soon know that Tquan was a name to be reckoned with, despite his humble origins. Why should ties of blood be stronger than natural ability? Of what use was a well-known clan against native intelligence? It was
his
understanding of the role of technology,
his
vision that had led a reluctant Chief to seek membership with the I.P.A. It was
his
voice that had counseled against leniency for the rebels. And he had been proven right! He, Tquan, should be the leader of his country, the country he had worked so hard to bring out of the dark ages, not an inexperienced, lovesick youth like Luan. Abulon was well rid of the boy. He smiled to himself, knowing that even now his men were on their way to Norh, to cut the last link between himself and murder. Of course there was still that damned elusive android marksman, but he couldn’t hold out much longer. He was merely an android, incapable of acting on his own for any sustained period of time. Tquan rolled the word around his mouth, thoughtfully. It was ridiculous how the Merculians had reacted to that simple word, the nonsense they talked about machines and slavery. It was only a word! He shrugged. When the time came, he could explain it all to everyone’s satisfaction. What mattered was that at the final performance of the Merculian National Dance Company, he, Tquan, would be in the place of honor, the chair of office that up till now he had forced himself to appear too humble to occupy. It was lucky for him that the Merculians were insisting on holding one last performance. They were so soft and easy to fool. The very thought of their Ambassador was enough to make his lip curl in derision.

Suddenly, the sound of drums reverberated from the square outside his windows, the din echoing up and down corridors, resounding from balcony to balcony, as if the noise itself were a live thing. Outside, the clamor was augmented by voices, as crowds began to gather, looking about for the source of the noise, asking each other what was happening. It was the Day of Awakening. Was this some new ceremony? Tquan rushed outside too, peering over the stone balustrade at the swirl of humanity that grew as he watched. And then, Luan’s hated image appeared on the wall. Tquan stared in horror as more and more hologram images hung in the air, reflected off buildings, projected anywhere people could gather to see and hear the son of the Great Chief of Abulon. Luan wore a leather kilt and a plain unadorned vest. An angry jagged scar was visible on his bare chest and his face was drawn and haggard. His large dark eyes were unafraid. “Am Quarr!” someone shouted, and then Tquan saw it; the cats-eye amulet of power hung around the boy’s neck. In the streets all over the city people began to cheer.

The First Minister swore and turned on his Chief of Security in fury. “You told me he was dead!” he shouted. Without hesitation, he pulled his knife and plunged it into the man’s heart. Too late it occurred to him he may have killed one of his few trustworthy followers.

Tquan rushed to the speaker tube on the wall and bellowed into it. The frightened man in the control room beneath the palace was almost incoherent, but it was obvious that all efforts to jam Luan’s transmission were of no avail.