Trickster (21 page)

 
"What time is it?" Martina asked. A while after she had finished sketching, she had felt tired and had gone to bed. When she woke up, a meal of ham steak, one tiny baked potato, unsweetened tea, and a salad had been waiting for her in the dumbwaiter. How long had she been asleep? A few hours? All night? She couldn't tell. The holographic window was no help--it showed the same sun-drenched valley. There had to be a time display somewhere on the computer, but it had either been disabled or hidden so carefully that Martina, who was no hacker, couldn't find it.

 
"Measuring time is a human concern, Alpha," Maura said in a slight admonishment. "The Dream is eternal, and your dependence on breaking time down into hours and minutes is one of the impurities that Vik stained us with. The Chosen need to rise above that to become one of the Enlightened, as Irfan Qasad did."

 
"Are you one of the Enlightened, then?"

 
A serene smile. "Not yet. I'm only a Delta. But I have enough experience now to begin counseling Alphas like yourself. Enough of that, then--I said I have news for you."

 
"What would that be?" Martina was a slave, and knew she was supposed to show proper respect to someone who was either her owner or someone who was higher up in the hierarchy, but Delta Maura had said there were no owners here, and Martina allowed a certain amount of sarcasm creep into her voice.

 
"Dreamer Roon has consented to address you and the other Alphas." Delta Maura clasped her gloved hands in excitement. "Isn't that wonderful news?"

 
"I suppose," Martina replied uncertainly.

 
"You
suppose
?" Delta Maura said in obvious shock. "Dreamer Roon himself, the first Enlightened one to touch the Dream since Irfan Qasad, and you only
suppose
it's wonderful?"

 
Martina decided on the spot it would be best to play along. Slaves survived best by blending in, and, Delta Maura's words notwithstanding, Martina still wore shackles.

 
"Oh, it's wonderful news," she said, putting an awed look on her face. "I was just . . . startled that he would do such thing. Talk to us Alphas, I mean. He wrote that very interesting book about the history of the Dream, didn't he?"

 
"You read it, then?"

 
"Part of it," Martina said. "He certainly has some fascinating theories."

 
"Fact, not theories," Maura chided gently. "Dreamer Roon doesn't need to postulate. He
knows
."

 
"Of course. Please forgive me. I'm still learning."

 
Delta Maura smiled her serene smile. "And we will teach you. Now into the tub. You must cleanse yourself before being admitted to the Dreamer's presence."

 
After a long bath--Delta Maura stood by to ensure Martina scrubbed every inch of skin--Delta Maura dressed her in a hooded yellow tunic, loose trousers, gloves, and sandals. Martina's head was spinning with questions. Who had taken her away from DrimCom? If she wasn't supposed to be a slave, why couldn't she walk away free? What was the difference between an Alpha and a Delta? What did
Enlightened
mean in this place? Why did everyone wear gloves? But she kept her mouth shut. A lifetime of enslavement had taught her that, Silent or not, slaves were sometimes only given enough information to do their jobs, and asking too many questions could result in an angry owner who inflicted pain. Best to wait and see what she could learn by keeping eyes and ears open.

 
Once Martina was dressed, Delta Maura opened the door with her keycard. She hustled Martina out of the room and into a red-carpeted corridor faced with several other doors.

 
"Put up your hood and keep your eyes on the floor," Delta Maura instructed, "so that you don't meet the Dreamer's gaze by accident. Your impurity would taint his cleanliness."

 
Martina did as instructed, though it meant keeping a hand on Delta Maura's arm. The unfamiliar gloves still felt strange, muffling. Soft clothing and low voices rustled around her, and Martina became aware that she was part of a procession of people making their way down the corridor. She tried to sneak looks at her surroundings, but the hood allowed only a limited range of vision. All she could see was a circle of floor. The space around her widened enough to echo, then closed in again. The floor alternated between carpet, tile, and metal. Eventually, Delta Maura guided Martina into a kneeling position on a thin floor mat. She knelt, settling her loose clothes around her, and heard more rustlings as Delta Maura and the others apparently did the same. All Martina saw was the yellow fabric of her own trousers. The faint smell of incense hung in the air. Martina listened carefully. The noises around her were subdued, but she got the sense that between forty and fifty people occupied the room. Were they all Alphas paired with a Delta? Martina didn't know, but figured it was a good guess, which meant that there were probably twenty-odd Alphas in the group. All stolen from their owners? Or were any of them here voluntarily? The questions kept piling up.

 
Martina supposed she should be frightened or frustrated, but she had been sold four times now, and in many ways this was just another change in ownership. Eventually someone would tell her what was going on and she would be given work to do. Delta Maura, despite her strangeness, had so far been unfailingly polite and kind, if uninformative, the food was plentiful, her quarters luxurious. It was proving a pretty good position so far.

 
After a while, a hush settled over the room and Martina heard footsteps approaching. A voice from somewhere in front of her said, "Welcome, Alphas, and greet the Dream! I am Dreamer Edsard Roon, and I am here to help you find your Enlightenment!"

 
His voice was rich and powerful. Martina was itching to look up and see what he looked like, but she had been ordered to keep her eyes down.

 
"You have been rescued from your oppressors, the ones who corrupted and tainted you, the ones who prevent you from achieving true Enlightenment in the Dream. I know you are confused and uncertain, but everything will be explained in time. This is a place of love and trust, and you have nothing to fear here. Irfan has guided you here, and we shall guide you to Enlightenment."

 
He continued on for quite some time about how special they all were, all Chosen by Irfan Qasad, all above mere humanity. Martina supposed that meant everyone here was human--no aliens. Another scrap of information for the mix.

 
"We will instruct you in the Laws of Atash," Roon continued. "The first--that the Chosen must remove themselves from impure human society--was fulfilled when we brought you here. The second--that you must dedicate yourselves to purity of thought and deed--you will hear about later today. A demonstration of the third law will occur during this instruction, when you will learn the value of confessing your impurities to the Enlightened. To fulfill the fourth law, you must obey the Enlightened and all those designated as your superiors. They have been there ahead of you and know the way. Trust them. They know what they are doing and will help you join them one day."

 
He droned on, and Martina found herself only half-listening. She needed to go to the bathroom and she felt hungry, despite the fact that she had just eaten. She wanted something starchy and sweet--cookies or perhaps cake. Her knees began to ache from kneeling on the thin mat, but when she started to shift position and sit down, a firm hand landed on her arm in a clear warning to remain still.

 
"Only Irfan Qasad escaped the foul taint of Daniel Vik," Roon was saying, "but that taint can be erased, and you will learn to enter the Dream freely, without use of drugs or trances, as Irfan did, and as I have learned to do."

 
That caught Martina's attention. Her ability to enter the Dream was enough to make her valuable, but she wasn't a high-class power. It usually took her an hour or more of self-induced trancing and a heavy dose of her drug cocktail to enter the Dream, and after the Despair there had been days when she couldn't enter it at all. She had heard that there were techniques the Silent could learn that would allow them to enter the Dream without drugs and with minimal trancing, but she had never met anyone who could do it.

 
Unfortunately, Roon didn't explain further. "You will come to see that this place is your birthright, that you belong here among those who love you and will take care of your every need. Go with the Dream, Alphas, and good day."

 
Martina wondered if she should applaud. The room, however, remained silent, and she didn't move. Her knees were in active pain now. Footsteps moved away from the front of the chamber, and after a moment, a collective sigh went through the audience. Martina took that as a sign that she could move, and she shifted into a sitting position. No one stopped her. The relief was heavenly, though her bladder ached.

 
"You may remove your hood now, Alpha," Delta Maura said beside her. "Dreamer Roon has left the room."

 
Martina pushed her hood back and blinked at the room. It was a large, rounded chamber set up like a small stadium, with tiered platforms leading down to a raised stage, the place where Roon had presumably been standing. Martina was sitting on the third tier, which put her at a level with the stage. The tiers were filled with, as she had surmised, about three dozen people. Half were dressed in yellow tunics like Martina's--Alphas--and half were dressed in dark green robes like Maura's--Deltas. The robed women wore wimples and the men wore hoods. Everyone wore gloves. Martina didn't see any non-humans, and low voices echoed softly as people talked among themselves.

 
An Alpha on the tier just above and behind Maura's pushed back his hood and a spasm gripped Martina's heart. The Alpha had dark skin and tightly curled black hair and a face etched with depression and sorrow, but his eyes--his eyes were a bright, startling blue. Martina stared. The Alpha stretched, and the green-robed man next to him murmured something in his ear.

 
Martina's heart pounded. It couldn't be. Could it? No one but her brother had eyes like that, and even though she hadn't seen them in fifteen years, Martina recognized them with utter certainty. She was about to call out when a hand grabbed her arm.

 
"Wasn't that wonderful?" Delta Maura said. "He's such an inspiration."

 
"Delta Maura, who is that?" Martina asked, pointing at the Alpha. He hadn't looked her way. "May I speak to him?"

 
Delta Maura shook her head. "Earning a name is part of becoming a Gamma, so you would call him 'Alpha.' The name he came here with is meaningless, as is yours. There is not time to speak just now--you're scheduled for confessional purification. We can't have those N-waves interfering with your personal growth, dear."

 
Martina considered dashing over to him, Delta Maura or no, but a lifetime of conditioned obedience interfered. An order was to be obeyed. Reluctantly, Martina got to her feet. Then she put a fist to her mouth and coughed loudly. Several people, including the Alpha, looked her way. Martina looked straight at him.

 
The Alpha's blue eyes widened in disbelief.
Martina?
he mouthed. Martina gave a tiny nod in return as tears filled her own eyes. He
was
her brother. After fifteen years, a part of her family was being returned to her.

 
"Do you need some water, dear?" Delta Maura asked at her elbow.

 
"No, thank you," Martina said, barely keeping her tone even.

 
"Then it's time to go."

 
As Delta Maura firmly led Martina out of the audience chamber, Martina silently decided that this place was looking better and better. She was sure once she explained what was going on that she would be allowed to speak with him. Dreamer Roon had said this was a place of love, and that meant they
had
to let her see her brother. They 
had
to.

 
Didn't they?

CHAPTER SIX

--
Ormand Clearwater, Bethlehem Colony

 
A triumphant roar went up from the crowd. Elena Papagos-Faye yelled with the best of them and leaned over the railing to peer down into the shallow gladiator pit, careful not to spill her drink. The person beside her, an auburn-haired man wearing a tight shirt that displayed an impressive build and tailored trousers that showed off some fine assets, pounded a fist on the rail. In the pit below, a six-legged, tank-like creature the size of a small horse finished pulling the arm off its hapless opponent. Black blood splashed over the arena floor and the opponent, a furry, fanged cross between a wolf and a human, howled in pain and fury. It bit and scratched, but claws and teeth got no purchase on the bony armor. The tank pushed the wolf creature toward a section of the floor that sat beneath a heavy metal weight. In the control booth that hovered over the pit, the losing owner shouted frantic instructions at the wolf creature, but blood loss was taking its toll and the creature's movements became jerky and spasmodic. The auburn-haired man shouted encouragement. Elena took another cold sip of her martini. The contest was thrilling, and so was the man.

 
For the last two days at the Pit, it seemed that no matter where she turned, the man was there--placing bets, shouting at the genegineered battle-creatures, and generally enjoying himself. She also noticed, however, that he didn't actually talk to much of anyone or seem to have any friends--at least, no friends that came to the Pit with him. He was a handsome bastard, too. His clothes and hair were immaculate, styled in the latest fashion. Elena was glad that the current mode favored tight clothes, and her own scarlet dress left little to the imagination. Elena herself was a couple centimeters taller than the man, with long black hair, dark eyes, and a longish nose.