Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (15 page)

Ampris scrambled up to join her, grinning in spite of herself. This was a special treat. Together they dived beneath the covers, leaving the lights shining, and snuggled closer together in the bliss of breaking Lady Lenith’s express rules.

“You won’t have nightmares in my bed, will you, Ampris?”

“No.”

Israi smiled and pulled her bead doll from beneath a pillow. As a ta-chune soon to be a vi-adult, Israi was too old for dolls, but this one remained her favorite. She handed it to Ampris. “You may hold her tonight while you sleep, and she’ll protect you as she used to protect me.”

Ampris took the doll reluctantly. It was a great honor to be permitted to hold the bead doll, but she was ta-chune also and, while she might be younger than Israi, considered herself too old to be comforted like a hatchling. Ever since she’d entered the trophy room, she’d felt peculiar, as though stretched too far. She couldn’t seem to snap back to the same Ampris she had been before.

“Thank you, Israi,” she said politely.

“The sadness is returning to your eyes,” Israi said. “You promised me you wouldn’t think about it.”

“I’m trying, but sometimes I can’t help it.”

“Then try harder.”

Ampris snuggled against a pillow, hunching up into a knot around the bead doll. “I bet if you saw a room full of Viis heads that had been preserved, you’d find it hard to forget.”

Israi’s rill rose to full extension and she slapped her tail hard against the bed. “That’s a terrible thing to say! You’ll get into trouble if anyone hears you talk like that.”

“I don’t care,” Ampris said sullenly. “Why were the Aarouns in there with the others? Like animals?”

“They
are
animals,” Israi said.

Astonishment flashed through Ampris. She sat bolt up-right with a growl. “They are not! I am not! How can you say Aarouns are not people?”

Israi gripped her arm and pulled her back under the covers. “Hush. Not so loud.”

“I want to be loud,” Ampris said. She felt her anger rising, bringing rebellion with it. “I want to yell. Who dared do this to them?”

“It was my grandfather’s trophy room,” Israi said sternly. “You may not criticize it.”

Some of Ampris’s defiance faded. “Forgive me,” she said more quietly. “I do not mean to criticize. I want to understand. Aarouns are people, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Well, almost,” Israi amended. “All the abira races are intelligent. Otherwise, they wouldn’t
be
abiru. You know this.”

“Yes. That’s why I don’t understand why Aarouns are in the trophy room.” Ampris shuddered. “Their heads and hands hanging there, mounted as though they never thought or spoke or had feelings.”

“They’re there because they were traitors,” Israi said. “Insurrectionists who broke into the palace and tried to assassinate my grandfather.”

Ampris stared at her. “I saw that word on the inscription. What does
assassinate
mean?”

“It means to kill someone for political reasons.”

Ampris stared at Israi in amazement and horror. “That is a terrible thing.”

“Oh, yes,” Israi said, flicking out her tongue casually even as pride swelled in her voice. “No one talks about it because the rebellion was a tiny one, very unimportant. The Aaroun traitors were crushed right away, and all the abiru races were punished in retaliation.”

Ampris said nothing, but she felt uncomfortable when Israi talked about the slave races this way. So offhandedly, as though they barely mattered. “But how did the Aarouns get past the palace guards?”

“They were garden workers,” Israi said in a flat voice. “When my grandfather went into his private garden for a nap, they attacked him. He defeated them all single-handedly. He had nothing except his ceremonial sword, while they had tools and bludgeons, yet he came to no harm. He was a very great warrior.”

“He must have been,” Ampris said.

“Yes, and afterward he ordered them all executed. He had their heads and hands cut off and brought here as a reminder that—”

Dilating her pupils, Israi stared at Ampris a moment, then looked away. She didn’t finish her sentence.

“A reminder of what?” Ampris asked.

Israi turned her back to Ampris and slid a pillow beneath her plump tail. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Ampris poked her spine. “A reminder of what?”

“It isn’t important. It happened a long time ago. You mustn’t dwell on it.”

Ampris could hear the discomfort in Israi’s voice. She knew Israi was evading her, but she didn’t understand why. Ampris sighed. She hated it when everyone seemed to comprehend something she did not.

“Please tell me,” she begged. “I want to know.”

“You’ll have bad dreams again.”

“No I won’t.”

Israi tilted her head to one side, clearly not believing that promise. “You won’t like what I have to say. I would rather not discuss it.”

“Thank you for sparing my feelings,” Ampris said politely, “but I do want to know.”

Israi’s rill rose behind her head in annoyance. “Very well. Since you
insist
. The Aarouns hang there as a reminder that no one of the abiru can ever be trusted.”

Ampris waited a moment, but that was all Israi said. As the silence between them lengthened, Israi’s words soaked deeper into Ampris’s understanding. She flattened her ears in hurt. “Ever?”

“That is the warning,” Israi said. She met Ampris’s gaze. “I told you that you would not like it.”

“Do you distrust me?” Ampris asked in a very small voice.

Israi sat up and drew her close in a hug. “Silly fur-face,” she said with affection, tugging on one of Ampris’s ears. “If I did, would I share my room with you? My bed? My lessons? My toys? You’re different.”

“But I am Aaroun.”

“I know, but not really. You’ve been mine since your first week of life. You aren’t like the others. You’re special. Never consider yourself one of them.”

Some of Ampris’s distress faded. She hugged Israi back, closing her eyes. “I would
never
hurt you, Israi. I would never turn against you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Israi said. She wriggled free of Ampris’s strong embrace. “Now don’t crush me. And don’t think about this again. It happened a long time ago, and it has nothing to do with you or me.”

“I’m glad,” Ampris said in relief. Then another thought occurred to her. “Is this why the courtiers do not like me? Lord Fazhmind and the others? Because of what those other Aarouns did?”

Israi yawned. “Fazhmind does not like you because you bit him when you were little. Everyone laughed at him because he is such a fool.”

“Yes, but the others—”

“They are stupid grown-ups, with stupid prejudices. We do not regard their opinions,” Israi said, sounding very imperial. “Now will you promise to go to sleep and have no more bad dreams?”

“I promise,” Ampris said.

“And you will not think about it, or brood, or let your feelings be hurt?”

Ampris nodded.

Israi clapped her hands in satisfaction. “Good. Then let us go to sleep.”

She curled herself on her side around her nest of pillows and closed her eyes.

Ampris sat there, however. Her thoughts were spinning. There was too much to think about for her to feel sleepy.

Israi poked her. “Go to sleep. That’s an imperial order.”

Ampris stuck her head out from under the covers. “Lights, out,” she commanded, and the lamps dimmed at once.

In the gloom that engulfed her, however, she shivered, feeling once again the ghostly touch of her kinsmen who had died in the Kaa’s garden, a garden where only a few days before she had played games in ignorance. Understanding where hatred came from did not make it easier to endure. She was blamed by Lady Lenith and others for something she had not done. She was amazed that Israi had ever been permitted to keep her.

Israi poked her again, harder this time. “Get settled and go to sleep,” she said sharply. “Or I’ll make you go back to your own bed.”

In obedience, Ampris lay down and snuggled against her share of the pillows. Soon she could hear Israi’s measured breathing, deep and slow. But Ampris could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, memories came leaping back, too sharp, too horrible.

What had driven the Aaroun gardeners to attack their kaa? What had rilled their hearts with so much hatred? What had turned them so far from obedience and respect? Ampris had never heard anyone call Israi’s grandfather unjust or cruel. Had the Aarouns themselves been evil? Had they been insane? What political reasons could they have had for trying to kill the Imperial Father? It was a shocking, unthinkable, blasphemous act.

She thought of the present Kaa, who was regal and terrifying, yet kind and gentle. He was a scholar, a historian, with countless interests and infinite patience. He had given Israi permission to keep Ampris. When they were younger, he used to come by once a day and watch them playing together. He had permitted Israi to teach Ampris the Viis language. While all the household slaves understood Viis, none of them save Ampris was allowed to speak it. He had consented to Ampris’s attending Israi’s lessons.

As a result, Ampris could read and write. She knew most of the coordinates of the empire, most of the names of the principal inhabited worlds which composed it. She even knew which constellation contained the Aaroun home-world, not that she had any desire to visit it. And she was beginning to understand the connection of mathematics to other things more interesting, such as music and the drawing of houses. Her life was good, and now and then the Kaa would rub her between the ears or smile at her casually. Such moments were blessings that she treasured. At times she almost imagined him to be her father too. It was good to have a pretend father, good to be praised by someone so glorious.

Ampris could not conceive of why anyone would want to hurt the Kaa. Troubled by the possibility, she pushed the matter from her mind, unwilling to think about it anymore.

But instead, the ghosts came crowding back inside her thoughts, many more than the five mutilated assassins in the trophy room. Hundreds of ghosts, thousands of ghosts, all Aaroun, all crying out to her with words she did not understand. Was the ghost of her mother among them? The mother she could not clearly remember? What did they want from her? Why did they haunt her sleep night after night? Why did they cry out for vengeance? And vengeance for what?

Her thoughts chased themselves endlessly, but Ampris found no answers through the long, empty night.

CHAPTER
•NINE

Elrabin raced up the stairs, his coattails flying out behind him. He wanted to howl at his own stupidity, but he knew it would be a waste of breath. Right now he had to focus on getting out of this brothel with his hide intact. He wasn’t too worried about Cuvein downstairs. His da had the gift of getting out of any situation, no matter how tight. Long ago the two of them had agreed that if trouble came, it was every Kelth for himself.

Shouting, the patrollers came thudding upstairs after him. With every bootstep he heard, Elrabin’s confidence seeped farther away. Fear squeezed his heart, and his ears kept flicking back, swiveling to the sounds of pursuit.

Never lead the patrollers on a chase unless you know the territory, he reminded himself. Well, it was too late to second-guess himself now.

He gained the landing by leaping over the last two steps, gripping the railing, and using his momentum to sling himself up and around the corner. A rapid, whipping sound passed by him, missing him by scant centimeters.

Elrabin’s mouth went dry. He slammed his back against the wall and panted there for a second, realizing just how close he’d come to being stunned.

He’d never been hit, but he knew the sound well enough. Cuvein had described it.

“Like needing to throw up, only you can’t. Like being jabbed all over with red-hot needles, itching bad while all your nerves go crazy. Like knowing you got to run, got to move, but you just lie there, helpless in the dust like the garbage they think you are. And then they drag you off, tank you, sell you to a slaver, or give you to the lab creeps for experimentation. Think ahead. Don’t get yourself into anything where they’re going to come after you with stun-sticks.”

So much for fatherly advice. If it weren’t for Cuvein, he wouldn’t be here now.

Muttering to himself, Elrabin glanced around swiftly to gain his bearings. He was in a narrow, gloomy hallway, dimly lit by lamps placed between a double row of closed doors. A window at the end of the hallway looked like his only hope for getting away. If he could gain that, he had a chance.

But the patrollers were nearly to the top of the stairs, nearly upon him. He’d never get to the window before they rounded the corner and saw him. They’d have a clear, easy shot. Already the hide between his shoulder blades was itching.

Feeling a surge of near-panic, he ran to the nearest door and touched the pad.

Locked.

He ran to the next.

Locked.

Fighting the desperate urge to pound on the cheap panel, he flung himself diagonally across the hallway to another door and touched the pad.

The door slid open silently, and he stumbled inside, off-balance and nearly falling.

The inside of the room was pitch-black, with a cloying scent choking the air. Someone giggled, then twin pairs of hands gripped him and pulled him forward.

He recognized the giggling, recognized the scent, and his heart skipped a beat in a rush of exhilaration mingled with dismay. By luck or fate, he’d found the quarters of the pink Kelth twins who’d laughed at him earlier. This was the opportunity of his life, and he didn’t have time to take advantage of it.

They were laughing now as they tugged him from side to side, reaching for his coat, fingers ruffling through his fur, a slim, scented muzzle sliding along his.

He drew back, his heart pounding too fast, trying to keep his head, trying to keep his coat on.

“Wait,” he said desperately, his voice two notches shriller than normal.

One of them was licking him between the eyes, finding a place that made him shiver. His senses were swimming. He couldn’t think, couldn’t get away from them.