Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (24 page)

One by one, they were led to the foot of the throne. A page uttered each lady’s name, and the ambassador unveiled her before the Kaa. She bowed low and presented a small gift token, then stood with blushing rill and downcast eyes while the Kaa scrutinized her. Beside the Kaa stood a minister with a data screen of bloodlines and family histories, constantly murmuring information to the sovereign.

The Kaa never hurried his selection, allowing anticipation to fill the hall as everyone watched breathlessly. All the brides were here as the result of long and delicate negotiations that went on throughout the year. However, those personally selected by the Kaa today would remain at court with the supreme standing of favorite wife. Each would be specially courted by the Kaa in the next few weeks as Festival approached, and on the special day, the favored few would go to the sacred Chamber of Hatching to lay their eggs. Those not smiled at today would be taken away from court, forever to live pampered, secluded lives, but far from the Kaa and his circle.

The last bride was presented and unveiled. A collective
aah
rose from the watching courtiers.

“The Lady Zureal,” announced the ambassador, and she bowed to the Kaa.

Even Ampris caught her breath, for Zureal was lovely. Green-skinned with delicate bone structure and graceful movements, she possessed large, tilted eyes of an exotic shade of amethyst. As the Kaa stared at her, she extended her rill above its jeweled collar, and it blushed a matching hue of delicate purple.

“Lady Zureal is newly adult, sire,” the ambassador said. “She begs you to accept this token of her devotion.”

The Kaa rose to his feet—a sign of great honor—and smiled at the lady. He took her gift with his own hand, making the spectators gasp and nudge each other. His gaze never left the lady’s sweet countenance.

“We are well-pleased,” he said, and her rill blushed again.

Taking her hand, he led her away without warning. He did not bother to dismiss the courtiers, to take his farewell from the ambassadors, or to give even a second glance to the other brides, who stood stricken with drooping rills.

Stunned silence filled the hall, then as the Kaa vanished with his new favorite, a loud buzz arose.

“Well,” said a courtier near Ampris. “
Well
.”

“Indeed,” agreed another. “Have you ever seen her equal?”

“She almost rivals the sri-Kaa’s beauty.”

“Almost! I would venture that she surpasses it.”

Ampris waited to hear no more. Bursting with the news, she went rushing back to the garden to tell Israi all that she had seen.

“Oh, hush,” Israi said, still bored and cranky. “I told you I care nothing for these creatures. There is a new favorite every year. It means nothing.”

“But Lady Zureal is beautiful,” Ampris said in excitement. “Such coloring. Everyone is talking about her. And the Kaa could not take his gaze from her. Truly, she is exotic. She blushes purple, not indigo.”

“Purple!” Israi sat up and flicked out her tongue in disgust. “I have never heard of something so silly. Who could be enchanted with that?”

“But it matches the color of her eyes. She is different.”

Israi’s rill darkened. “How different?”

“Like nothing ever seen. Everyone—”

“I am not interested in the opinions of the court,” Israi said sharply. “Is she
really
beautiful?”

Ampris sighed and nodded. “Breathtaking.”

A strange light appeared in Israi’s eyes. “More beautiful than I?”

Ampris had not foreseen that question. She hesitated, warned too late by Israi’s darkening rill. “Well, she is different,” she said clumsily.

“As you said.”

“No one could be more beautiful than you, Israi,” Ampris said out of loyalty, yet . . . “It is hard to explain. She moves like she’s gliding on water. When you’re adult, you’ll also—”

“Also!” Israi said in a huff, jumping to her feet. She kicked her pillows into the pool, where they bobbed and floated like fat, blood-red water blossoms. “There is no
also!
How dare you compare her to me!”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Ampris said hastily, trying to avert the coming tantrum. “I was trying to explain that she’s—”

“I don’t wish to discuss her further,” Israi said. “Which is better, a lady who walks like she’s gliding on water—or me, when I have been compared to the lightness of a summer’s breeze?”

“You, of course. You’re magnificent,” Ampris said, trying to soothe her. “After all, you’re golden-skinned and she’s only—”

“What?” Israi demanded. “What is her color? Blue?”

“Green,” Ampris said, and waited.

Israi’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She tilted her head to one side. “Green?” she asked smugly.

Ampris nodded. “Green.”

Israi hooted in triumph. “The most
common
hue! Then she is nothing compared to me. Nothing!”

“Well, no, but her combination is striking,” Ampris said.

“Phoo,” Israi said, dismissing this quibble. “Striking combinations fade. In a year, she’ll be nothing at all out of the ordinary. I’ll even wager that she’s had her rill altered, for it to turn such a hue.”

Ampris gasped in shock. “Would she dare?”

“Oh, yes, she would,” Israi said with all the wisdom of being both older and more sophisticated. “I’ve heard how the wives talk. There is so much competition among brides to be selected as favorites that they’ll do anything, submit themselves to
any
procedure, in order to enhance their looks. When my father finds out, she’ll be exiled faster than she can blink.”

It seemed a shame to Ampris, for Lady Zureal really was pretty, but she wasn’t about to say so to Israi. The near-tantrum had been averted, and Ampris wasn’t going to risk another.

“Come on!” Israi grabbed Ampris’s hand, and together they ran from the garden.

“Where are we going?” Ampris asked, taking care not to outrun Israi.

“Somewhere different to think. I need a plan.”

“What sort of plan?”

“I want to play the ultimate prank, and I need inspiration.”

Ampris couldn’t keep herself from sighing. “Haven’t we played enough pranks?”

“But this one will be supreme,” Israi said, her green eyes glowing.

“Fazhmind isn’t even funny to watch anymore,” Ampris said, bored with the idea. “He just yells and his rill turns red.”

“We aren’t going to bother with Fazhmind,” Israi said with scorn.

“Who, then?”

Israi laughed and yanked Ampris to a halt behind a carved stone pillar. She put her finger between her nostrils in warning and glanced around to make sure no one could overhear.

“The Lady Zureal,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Don’t look so shocked. She’s the perfect target.”

“But—but she’s a bride. Festival is coming!”

“Yes, isn’t that perfect? No one will expect us to pick on her.”

“But that’s unkind.”

Israi stared at her. “Ampris! Are you on my side, or hers?”

“Yours, of course.”

“Then stop objecting. I want to think up something that will drive her away.”

“But if she’s the new—”

“Hush! We’ll make her hysterical and silly. She’ll plead to be sent away. It will be wonderful!”

Ampris didn’t like what she was hearing. She looked at her friend in dismay. “You mean, just because Lady Zureal is beautiful, you want to drive her away from court? You don’t want her to be a possible rival to you in looks? Is that why?”

Israi’s rill snapped up. “How dare you say such a thing to me. You are not allowed to question me.”

Ampris flinched, but she didn’t back down. “Then who will, if I do not?”

“You
are
on her side,” Israi said in outrage. “You like her better than me.”

“Of course not. I couldn’t,” Ampris said. “It’s just that if you pick on her, you make her important. And you’re the sri-Kaa, while she’s only a wife. Shouldn’t you be kind, if you’re—”

“Get away from me,” Israi said, furious. “You’ve turned against me. You think I’m wrong. You won’t help me. Then go fawn over her, if that’s what you want. Go!”

“But, Israi—”

Israi snapped at her blindly, and missed. Hissing, the sri-Kaa pushed away from Ampris and ran off, leaving Ampris to stare after her in dismay.

“You argue with sri-Kaa?” Subi said from behind Ampris. “Bad, you are.”

Ampris turned to the old nursemaid, whose fur smelled of cleaning powder and age. “You overheard us?”

“I hear enough.”

Frustration welled up inside Ampris. “I don’t understand her. She doesn’t have to be jealous of Zureal. It’s silly.”

“Nothing is silly when you are young Viis female, growing up.”

Shocked, Ampris stared wide-eyed at the old Kelth. “She isn’t growing up. Not yet!”

“The time is coming. She is not of age yet to have eggs, but she feels the urges of Festival this year. They confuse her. She does not understand what she feels yet, but next year or the year after that, she will. It will be better then.”

“I don’t feel any urges,” Ampris said. Yet even as she spoke she wondered, for she was much bigger than she used to be, and more impatient. Sometimes she ached and felt restless. Was this growing up? “Festival is just a time to dress in fancy clothes and have fun,” she insisted.

Subi bared her yellowed teeth. “That is because you are not Viis.”

“Well, I’m glad. If you have to throw fits and yell at people and hate everyone, I’d rather be Aaroun and never grow up,” Ampris said. “I don’t see why she has to act this way.”

Subi gave Ampris a little push. “You go find her. Play with her. Make her happy again. This anger, it will pass.”

“She doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. She’s angry with me.”

“Not with you. At what she feels. Make her happy, Ampris. That is your responsibility.”

Backing her ears, Ampris struggled to make Subi understand that things weren’t that simple. Israi was acting like a stranger, and Ampris didn’t think she could reach her.

“Agree with her. Play her games,” Subi said, almost as though she could read Ampris’s mind. “Let her run free. Don’t stop her in whatever she wants to do.”

Ampris blinked. “You’re always saying we should have rules.”

“This is her last spring to be ta-chune,” Subi said. “When she becomes vi-adult, all will be different.”

“But—”

“Run after her, now, and play what she wants. It is not your place to be her guide or conscience.”

That was just the opposite of what Chancellor Gaveid had said. Ampris didn’t bother trying to sort it out. What mattered was that Israi was angry with her. Subi’s advice made sense, and soon Ampris was running through the palace to catch up with her and try again to be the faithful, unquestioning companion that Israi wanted her to be.

CHAPTER
•FOURTEEN

Israi wasn’t in sight. She could have gone anywhere within the vast palace complex. She was adept at following old passageways, sneaking along the servant routes, and evading just about anyone who wanted to find her. But she could not hide from Ampris, who tracked her scent from the wives court, through the main public section, and on along the old concourse that led into the original structures, where restoration work was now in progress.

Slaves of all races hammered, cut, carved, and polished in a ceaseless cacophony, punctuated by shouted instructions from supervisors and the architects.

The area smelled of paint, heated metal, and laborer sweat. A fine coating of white dust covered everything. Two specialized construction robots worked independently, hoisting support beams and soldering bolts into place. But Ampris saw a line of dead robots stacked in a discard heap along one wall. She wasn’t surprised. Most machinery like that was antiquated and failed to work well. The Viis, especially the Kaa, preferred hand labor. It provided a special quality to whatever was being constructed. Indeed, the restoration process seemed to require extensive amounts of skilled handcrafting, for Ampris saw such workers everywhere.

At present, most of the work was focused on what had been the original throne room. As she scurried past, Ampris caught a glimpse of a vast chamber every bit as large as the audience hall currently in use. Scaffolding filled the throne room from floor to ceiling, and workers swarmed up and down with buckets and tools. Plasterers and carvers crouched at the very top of the scaffolding with their shoulders hunched against the vaulting beams, busy restoring the ceiling to its former magnificence. At a distance from the scaffolding, a Myal balanced on tall stilts with his prehensile tail stuck out behind him for balance was skillfully applying gold leaf to the delicate leaves carved into a wall panel. A Viis architect stood in the center of the room, wearing the white cape of his profession and pointing to a holographic schematic as he explained something to a second Viis in an artist’s sash. The two were arguing vehemently, frequently stabbing their fingers into the holo image or making sweeping gestures at the ceiling far overhead.

Israi was not in there. Sneezing against the dust, Ampris hurried on.

It was hard to follow Israi’s trail through the construction zone. Chemical and construction smells overlaid Israi’s scent, and Ampris found it difficult to imagine why the sri-Kaa would come to such a dirty and noisy section of the palace.

She turned a corner and saw Israi standing next to a pillar swathed with drop cloths. The sri-Kaa had her back partially to Ampris and did not see her approach. Israi was scowling into the distance, and her green eyes held deep unhappiness.

Remembering what Subi had said, Ampris walked up to her and nuzzled the back of her rill with simple affection.

“I’m sorry,” Ampris said. “I was wrong to argue with you. Please forgive me.”

Israi flashed her an angry glare and turned away. Her slender back was rigid, her rill dark indigo.

“Please,” Ampris said, anxious to make amends. “I shall do anything you say. Let’s think up a way to really ruin Lady Zureal’s happiness.”

Israi glared at her again. “Don’t say it like that,” she said. “Why must you sympathize with her?”

“I don’t,” Ampris said, holding back a sigh. She’d erred again, but she wasn’t sure how. “I’m on your side. I promise. Maybe we could put dye into her cosmetics and turn her face a strange color.”