Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (18 page)

He came at once, bowing low. “Yes, highness?”

“Take a message to the cook. I wish a picnic feast prepared for today. I shall want carnela cream, plenty of fruit tarts, candied granapes, and spiced antas.”

The page bowed again. “Forgive me, highness, but it is supposed to rain.”

Israi eyed him coldly. “Did I request your opinion?”

“No, highness.”

“Then be quiet.” Israi turned to Ampris. “You may pick two of your favorite foods as well.”

Ampris beamed eagerly. “Thank you. I want—”

“But no meat,” Israi said sternly. “I refuse to watch you gnaw on bones.”

“Spicemeats?” Ampris asked hopefully.

Israi flicked out her tongue. “That’s slave food.”

Ampris lowered her gaze to mask her disappointment. Spicemeats were delicious, but she knew when Israi would not relent. “May I have civa cakes?”

Israi laughed. “You
always
want civa cakes. What else?”

Ampris thought hard but she couldn’t think of anything permissible she wanted besides those tiny, mouthwatering confections. They melted on the tongue with the most exquisite flavors. She swallowed, already longing for them.

“Lots of civa cakes,” she said.

Israi sighed indulgently and returned her gaze to the page. “You heard that.”

“Yes, highness.”

Israi flicked her fingers in dismissal. “See that it is done.”

“Yes, highness.” The page hurried away, and Israi turned to Ampris with an air of satisfaction.

“There,” she said. “I like my idea very well.”

“I like it too,” Ampris said.

“Then let us go and select our costumes.”

Together they started upstairs, but a voice called them back.

It belonged to a ta-chune Viis male, scrawny and with skin variegated in tones of bright blue and green. He was one of Israi’s egg-brothers, named Oviel. Both Israi and Ampris despised him.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

Israi lifted her head very haughtily. “I do not answer to you.”

He frowned. “It was a civil question. You could at least be polite to me, Israi. After all, one day I shall be your chancellor.”

“Not while I live.”

The two Viis siblings glared at each other. Ampris, feeling uncomfortable with the argument, tried to edge past Israi and keep going up the stairs, but Israi stopped her.

“Go and bite him, Ampris,” she commanded. “Bite him and shake him hard enough to snap his skinny neck.”

Ampris stared at Israi in surprise, even as her fur stood on end in mingled embarrassment and annoyance. She did not like it when Israi used this tone with her. It was rare, and done only in public, but it made Ampris feel as insignificant as dust. It was the tone all Viis nobles used with their slaves, creatures who were ignored and used like furniture was used. The command itself was in poor taste, not even funny, and that embarrassed Ampris even more.

Ampris said nothing.

After a moment, when Ampris made no move toward him, Oviel managed to stop looking alarmed. Ignoring Ampris, although his gaze flickered to her more than once, he gave Israi a thin smile. “I am glad your pet does not always obey you.”

“The taste of your flesh would poison her teeth.”

He frowned. “You are unkind, my sister.”

“You are ambitious, my brother,” she retorted. “I have been warned about you.”

“By whom?”

“I know that you are hoping to get the throne for yourself. You think I am weak because I am female, but you forget the examples of history. We have been ruled by three other female kaas, all of whom were ruthless, bold, and courageous. None of them were deposed by their male relatives. Nor shall I be.”

Courtiers were approaching. Pages went by on errands, glancing at them in curiosity. The lodge was stirring in the new day, and this argument could not continue.

Oviel seemed to sense this, for he backed up a step and bowed. “I only asked where you were going today, Israi. Nothing more. You need not be so defensive, you and your pet.”

“I am not defensive,” Israi replied coldly, “but I am on my guard against you.”

His eyes glittered in response, but although a tremor passed through his rill he did not extend it. “I will discover who has dripped this poison into your mind. I do not like to find I have enemies.”

“You should concentrate on growing your battle teeth, brother. You’ll need them.”

Flicking her tongue, Israi turned her back on him and continued upstairs. Ampris followed her, glancing over her shoulder in time to see Oviel’s rill turn bright crimson as he walked away.

“Why did you speak to him like that?” Ampris asked once they were safely out of earshot. “Why did you make him angry on purpose?”

Israi glanced at her as they entered the storage room, with its musty shadows and draped cobwebs. The sri-Kaa did not immediately answer. Instead, she opened a chest and started pulling out quaint old garments that smelled of dust and camphan preservative.

Ampris sneezed. “Israi, please explain,” she said.

“Very well, but it is a secret I tell you.”

“I understand.”

Israi cast her a sharp glance. “You will chatter about this to no one. Is that clear?”

Hurt, Ampris widened her eyes. “But I never share your secrets. Never. Do you distrust me now?”

“No, but you must be careful.”

“I promise.”

“Then I will tell you that my father has been giving me special lessons of late.”

Ampris nodded. She knew about those sessions, from which she was excluded.

“These are lessons which a ruler may share only with one who will one day rule.”

A shiver passed through Ampris. She said, “Sometimes, when we’re playing, I forget how important you are.”

“How important I shall one day be,” Israi corrected her. “Yes. I am old enough now, my father says, to begin to study politics and intrigue. It is my father who has warned me to beware of Oviel. His tutor is ambitious, my father says, and the tutor has taught Oviel of the old custom of an egg-sibling serving as primary chancellor of state. This is dangerous for me, and my father says I must not allow it.”

“Oh,” Ampris said, impressed by such adult talk. “Couldn’t the Imperial Father just dismiss the tutor?”

Israi laughed and tilted her head from side to side. “How simple that would be! Ampris, you are priceless.”

Ampris swelled with pride, until she realized that Israi was laughing
at
her. Backing her ears, Ampris asked, “What is wrong with my suggestion?”

“It’s too simple. Too obvious. My father says it is better to keep a known enemy nearby where you can watch him than to send him away, where he can work his mischief unobserved.”

“Oh,” Ampris said again. She thought about this, understanding that complexity was always desirable to a Viis, even Israi. Ampris herself preferred things kept simple and direct. If the tutor was imprisoned or even put on a labor gang for his wickedness, he would have no opportunity to cause mischief. But she did not utter this thought aloud. She had no desire to be laughed at again.

By the time they selected their costumes and came downstairs, the morning was well-advanced. A page came to tell Israi that Lady Lenith wished to see her.

“My compliments to the lady,” Israi replied, “but inform her I am otherwise engaged and not at liberty this day.”

The page backed away to deliver her message.

Israi caught Ampris’s eye and giggled. “Come,” she said, gripping Ampris’s hand in hers. “Let’s go before she finds a way to stop us.”

They ran headlong through the lodge, sending servants, advisers, and courtiers backing out of their way. According to court protocol, Israi’s personal guards were supposed to accompany her outdoors, but the sri-Kaa was in a mischievous mood today. She and Ampris slipped down the servant stairs into the vast kitchen complex. A place always boiling with frenetic activity, the kitchen provided perfect cover for two youngsters to escape outdoors without being noticed. In the stables, they dug out old Moscar—a massive Aaroun whose spots had faded on his dull fur. A gentle creature, slow of wit and harmless, Moscar could not speak, but he bent willingly to the task of carrying their blankets and food baskets. Silent and steady, he trudged behind them up the long, steep trail that led higher into the mountains.

Ampris loved being outdoors. The wintry sunshine warmed her shoulders, offsetting the chilly air. She lifted her nostrils to the breeze and inhaled a myriad of scents, all intriguing and fresh. Overhead a pair of raptuls sailed and circled on the wind currents. Their wingspans were enormous, casting swift shadows across the steep ground. Now and then they uttered a cry that echoed down the mountains, a cry so savage and primitive it sent shivers through Ampris.

Tossing back her head, she threw up her hands to the sky and tried to roar.

The cry came out thin and guttural, embarrassing her.

Israi glanced back. “Stop that. Why are you making such an ugly sound?”

“I don’t know. It felt natural.”

“It is hideous. I don’t wish to hear it again.”

Ampris frowned beneath Israi’s rebuke. “Forgive me,” she said politely. “I’m not doing it right. Perhaps if I practiced—”

“No.”

Ampris’s gaze met Israi’s. She saw only unyielding sternness in Israi’s green eyes. Sighing, Ampris bowed her head.

“Yes, Israi,” she said in obedience. “I won’t do it again.”

“You are a lady of court,” Israi said, struggling not to trip on the hem of her long robe as the trail grew more rocky and steep. She paused, panting in the thin air, and gripped the trunk of a narpine sapling. Her rill lay limp and wilted over the edge of her collar. “Help me here.”

“Maybe if we took off these costumes until we get to the picnic spot,” Ampris suggested. She was finding her robe cumbersome and hard to manage. It also reeked of camphan, clogging her nostrils so much she couldn’t stop robbing her nose.

“No,” Israi said. “I don’t want to take off the robe. It’s part of the game, remember? We are fine ladies of the court, and we are climbing to a proper vantage point to watch the lodge being built.”

“We may break our necks,” Ampris grumbled, boosting Israi forward, then clambering awkwardly over the rocks herself. She pulled up the hem of her robe and tied it in a knot out of her way.

“Hurry,” Israi said. “And stop complaining. You are spoiling the game.”

“Yes, Israi.”

“Help me over this rock.”

“Yes, Israi.”

Again Ampris gave her friend a boost from behind. Both of them were panting loudly. Hunger rumbled inside Ampris’s belly, and she thought about the feast that was soon to come.

“It’s not far now,” she said with satisfaction, looking ahead up the trail.

“Thank the gods,” Israi said, puffing hard. She yanked at her dragging hem once again, and nearly lost her balance. “This is the shortest way up, but I didn’t realize it was so steep.”

Above them, the huge old narpine with its wind-twisted trunk and spreading branches stood in welcome, waiting for them to take their favorite spot among its gnarled roots. There was one last climb over a jumbled pile of rocks between them and their objective.

“We shouldn’t be court ladies coming this way,” Ampris said as they paused to rest. “We should be invaders, trying to breach the palace walls.”

Israi flicked out her tongue, too winded to speak.

From below them came a shout.

Startled, both Ampris and Israi looked.

“Oh, no,” Israi said.

Ampris saw a small contingent of guards and courtiers about halfway up the mountain trail. The person in front was waving at them. Another shout echoed up the mountain and sent the wheeling raptuls flying away.

Ampris flattened her ears and growled. “Fazhmind,” she said in disgust.

Israi leaned against her, peering into the distance. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Israi blew a most nonroyal snort through her nostrils. “That
toad
. What does he want?”

Ampris sighed. “He wants us to go up the ordinary trail. To ride in a skimmer. To take your ladies in waiting along. To wear our cloaks against the cold. To have your guards in attendance.”

“To be utterly and completely
bored
,” Israi finished. “Why must he always ruin our games? Who asked him to interfere?”

“Come down!” came the call, rising to them while echoes tumbled off the rocks and gullies.

Shoulders drooping, Ampris turned to obey, but Israi gripped her arm. Israi’s green eyes were flashing. “I shan’t,” she said defiantly. “Who is he, to give me orders?”

“But, Israi—”

“Quickly,” Israi commanded, turning Ampris around and pushing her toward the rocks. “We’ll keep going. We can hide from them, and it will be a better game than before. If he has to spend the whole day searching for us in the mountains, won’t he be tired and filthy and put out when he gets back?”

She laughed unpleasantly, a calculating expression in her eyes. “Let’s make him run off all the stored fat in his tail. That will teach him to interfere.”

Ampris liked the idea, but she was busy thinking ahead. “What if your father has summoned you?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Israi said. “Besides, I hardly care. I shan’t have my fun spoiled like this. Come, Ampris. You stand there and boost me up.”

Ampris looked at the rocks they had to climb and pulled off her costume. “It would be better if I went first and gave you a hand.”

“Then do it quickly,” Israi commanded.

Already Ampris had evaluated the climb. She started up, finding hand- and toe-holds quickly. Ahead of her was a ledge where she could lie flat and extend her hand to Israi. But even as she reached it, she heard scrambling sounds and Israi’s quick panting. Glancing back, Ampris saw Israi climbing right behind her.

She started to tell Israi to wait, then held her tongue. When Israi lost her temper, she listened to no one.

Ampris hauled herself onto the ledge and knelt there in time to grip Israi’s reaching hand. She heaved, and Israi came scrambling up in a flurry of long legs, tail, and the cumbersome fur robe that she refused to take off.

Streaked with dirt, Israi closed her eyes and gasped for breath. Below them, old Moscar stood at the base of the rocks and shook his shaggy head slowly from side to side.