Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (5 page)

Just the sight of her filled him with joy and restored his spirits. He longed to laugh with her, to scoop her into his arms and breathe across her sweet face, to toss her into the air, to tickle her until she squealed, and to let her ride on his shoulders.

But today was to be her first public appearance. As sri-Kaa, she had to remember what was expected of her and act according to her rank and position. The first, most important lesson a sri-Kaa had to learn was to respect the Kaa. Completely, unhesitantly, and without fail.

He stood firm, meeting a gaze which could have melted the foundation stones of the palace, his stern expression never altering.

Israi’s attendant whispered to her again, and Israi’s green eyes lowered. Her rill blushed a dark blue, and with bowed head she walked slowly and respectfully up to him. She made her little obeisance flawlessly, and raised her gaze to his once more.

“Good morning, Imperial Father,” she said, her young voice grave and clear. “May—may the blessings of Festival befall you.”

The Kaa bowed to her in return. “Thank you, our daughter.”

Her eyes were getting bigger, and he decided the lesson had been reinforced sufficiently.

With a smile, he took her hand. Israi squeezed his long, slender fingers, grinning radiantly in return.

“Time for the procession, sire,” Gaveid said from behind him.

Israi gestured urgently for the Kaa to bend down. When he did so, she whispered, “And the marketplace. You promised.”

“We promised,” the Kaa agreed. He gazed deep into his daughter’s eyes, seeing his future in their fire and courage. He smiled. “We shall not forget, provided the sri-Kaa behaves herself through all the ceremonies that come before.”

Israi lifted her head high and imitated an imperious gesture made by court ladies. “The sri-Kaa will behave herself,” she promised.

From the corner of his eye, the Kaa saw Gaveid frown with doubt and misgiving. The Kaa smiled at him. “You worry too much, old one. The sri-Kaa has given her word.”

“The sri-Kaa’s word is her most excellent bond,” Gaveid said, bowing to Israi, who puffed up visibly at the praise. “But will the Imperial Daughter remember it?”

“I will!” Israi said forcefully, stamping her foot.

The Kaa swallowed his laughter. “She will,” he assured the chancellor. “Come, precious one. It is time to go among our people.”

CHAPTER
•THREE

The spring sunshine blazed down, unseasonably warm. Surrounded by guards, courtiers, attendants, clowns, cupbearers, and musicians; the Kaa strolled along the dusty stalls of the abiru marketplace and felt the heat radiate off stone pavement and stone walls. He regretted bringing his daughter here. This was no place for either of them. Despite attempts to brighten the surroundings with gaudy festoons of ribbons and wilted flowers, the plaza remained drab, dreary, ordinary. The rounded daub architecture of the buildings offended the Kaa’s eyes, especially since it dated from a neomodern style that he particularly despised.

Here and there, some shops or alleys leading away from the plaza had been closed off with walls of colorful silk gauze, such places deemed inappropriate for the Kaa to see. Yet the shops selected to remain accessible proved to be vile, scarcely large enough to turn around in, with wares of mediocre quality and execrable taste. Outside in the expanse of the plaza itself, portable stalls were set up in haphazard fashion. The hucksters running such places were mostly Kelths—cringing, fawning creatures in brindled fur. Their upright ears twitched nervously at every sound. Their keen eyes watched the Kaa’s movements as though he would order them slain on the spot. Garbed plainly in colors of dust and muted greens, they seemed too awed by the Kaa’s august presence to even call out their wares. One male Kelth, bolder than the rest, held out a cheap trinket as though expecting the Kaa to purchase it. One of the guards glared at him, and the Kelth hastily withdrew with an awkward bow.

The crowd behind the patroller barricades consisted mostly of the mingled abiru races, with a scattering of lower-class Viis among them. A few Rejects, cloaked and hooded, skulked on the fringes. Gripping Israi’s small hand tightly, the Kaa averted his gaze from these, his basest subjects.

Sighing, the Kaa paused halfway across the plaza, ready to retreat from this ill-considered expedition. At once his clowns raced ahead of him to tumble and flip in a display of acrobatics that made the abiru folk stare in astonishment. Israi laughed aloud, defying etiquette, and the Kaa smiled at the simple innocence of chunenhal.

She tilted her head back to gaze up at him with sparkling green eyes. “Isn’t this fun? I am fascinated.”

He sighed again, and had not the heart to drag her away just yet. Turning from the acrobatics of his clowns, he strolled to the booth of a short Myal. Of all the slave races, Myals were the most civilized. The Kaa appreciated their intelligence and undertanding of art and history. This particular Myal was old and stunted, barely reaching to the Kaa’s waist. His mane of reddish-gold hair was scraggly and sparse, but his dark liquid eyes held an expression of refinement. He dealt in handcrafted lamps.

Pausing at the booth, the Kaa allowed a guard to select one of the lamps and hold it up for his inspection. The workmanship was surprisingly good; clearly the maker possessed familiarity with historical artifacts. The Kaa found himself almost interested enough to forget how thirsty, hot, and uncomfortable he was. Almost. He longed for the cool, scented shade of his garden, and turned away from the Myal without asking the question he had intended.

The guard put down the lamp, and the little Myal crafter curled his prehensile tail around one leg and sank down on his haunches in visible disappointment.

“What?” asked a cultured voice from behind the Kaa. “Is the Imperial Father uninterested in these humble wares?”

Recognizing that voice, the Kaa stiffened slightly, but masked his reaction by turning around. “Lord Telvrahd,” he said without enthusiasm.

Telvrahd bowed low with dramatic flourishes of his green-skinned hands, displaying wide, fashionable cuffs sprinkled with pavé jewels that glittered in the relentless sunshine. His brow ridge and rill gleamed with oil. “A bountiful Festival to the Imperial Father,” he said formally.

“A bountiful Festival to you,” the Kaa replied. Inwardly he was fuming. Which fool in his entourage had allowed Telvrahd access to him like this? Egg-brother or not, Telvrahd was a pest with ambitions that outstripped his importance. Yet because he had made himself a leader of the Progressionist Party, it was unwise to dismiss him publicly. After all, there was the cheering crowd beyond the patroller barricades to consider.

When the Kaa acknowledged him, Telvrahd smirked. His ruby-colored eyes gleamed with mischief as he bowed somewhat less grandly to the sri-Kaa. “Greetings to the Imperial Daughter of Sahmrahd Kaa.”

Although she had been tugging impatiently at the Kaa’s hand, Israi now looked up at her uncle and gave him the correct half obeisance for someone of his rank and standing at court. She failed to make a verbal response as she was supposed to, but the Kaa did not bother to correct her omission.

Catching this most subtle of insults, Telvrahd’s grin became more forced. His rill pinkened and extended itself slightly above the support of his collar. “There are matters between us, sire, that need discussion. My petition supporting the restoration of the jump gates between—”

Israi tugged at the Kaa’s hand. Welcoming the interruption, no matter how rude, the Kaa lifted his long fingers to silence Telvrahd and bent down so that Israi might whisper in his ear canal.

“Father,” she said impatiently, “I want to look at the hatchlings.”

He hesitated, not understanding. “What?”

A courtier in attendance intervened with a languid gesture toward a shop across the plaza. “No, Imperial Father. No Viis have been hatched here. The sri-Kaa refers to young abiru, specially selected for presentation this day.”

The Kaa’s frown deepened, and from the corner of his eye he saw Telvrahd’s impatient expression. For that reason alone, the Kaa extended the interruption. “Young abiru?” he repeated. “What sort?”

Fazhmind the courtier blinked at the question as though he had not expected it. Garbed in a heavy silk coat that clearly made him swelter, Fazhmind fanned himself with a delicate creation of lace-cut ivory, jingling the tiny silver bells that dangled from his rill spines, and consulted a lower attendant for an answer.

“All kinds,” Fazhmind finally replied, still fanning. He was a fastidious, pompous toady, too well-connected to be dismissed from court, but pushy and never popular with the Kaa.

“Yes, sire,” he continued, the tiny bells tinkling beneath his words. “I understand there is quite a pleasing selection of pet-quality animals. Kelth, Aaroun, Myal, even a Toth or two for those who find it fashionable to own the unfashionable—”

“Toths?” the Kaa said in alarm. “Certainly not. The Imperial Daughter may not go near such animals. They are too dirty. They carry disease.”

“Father—,” Israi whined.

“No,” the Kaa replied brusquely.

He turned his back on both his daughter and the courtier, facing Telvrahd once more. “Forgive the interruption. Young chunen do not always remember their court manners.”

Telvrahd put on an indulgent expression. “It is Festival. Informality is expected. Now, about my proposal regarding the jump gates—”

“This is not the time or the place to discuss the matter.”

“The Imperial Father has put me off for months.”

The Kaa curled his tongue within his mouth, struggling to hold his temper. Flies buzzed around a segment of gristly bone that an Aaroun child was gnawing. A horrified courtier dispatched someone to shoo the cub from sight. The Kaa wished he might swat Telvrahd away as well.

“We have our reasons for the delay, Lord Telvrahd,” the Kaa said. “We are not unaware of the problems involved, problems which your proposal addresses. We are not unsympathetic—”

“Sire!” Telvrahd dared interrupt. “Sympathy is not what is required. The jump gates are decaying, falling into disrepair—”

“Nonsense,” the Kaa said sharply, conscious of too many spectators watching and listening. “Such reports are false, the work of alarmists. Our jump gates are functional across the empire, and they will remain so.”

“Not without attention. When they stop working, nothing is done. Nothing!” Telvrahd said, leaning closer. He lowered his voice, his dark red eyes locked on the Kaa’s. “This shrinks our empire’s boundaries more. We cannot afford—”

“We are assured that maintenance is done according to the correct schedule. While we appreciate your interest, surely there are other matters more appropriate for your attention.”

Telvrahd extended his rill fully, and it turned a dark crimson. The Kaa’s personal guards stepped closer. “I have just returned from a visit to my estates in the colony worlds,” Telvrahd said. “The ship was rerouted twice around failed jump gates, and I missed several important appointments—”

“Including your audience with us,” the Kaa said coldly. “Now you have forced yourself upon our company, taken advantage of our time, and created a public spectacle around an insignificant matter.”

“Sire—”

“Insignificant,” the Kaa repeated with more force. He glared at Telvrahd with eyes cold and flat. As his rill extended and raised, Telvrahd’s lowered.

Bowing low, Telvrahd stepped back. “I ask the pardon of the Imperial Father. My heart is much occupied with the safety and well-being of the empire. My zeal sometimes exceeds my prudence.”

As an apology, it left much to be desired. The Kaa heard no sincerity in Telvrahd’s tone. He saw no contrition in Telvrahd’s red eyes. Telvrahd would persist, and make a great issue over something that was both costly and unimportant. As long as there were sufficient jump gates across the empire, why bother with a few gone inactive? Even more foolishly, why make a public issue of it and stir up the populace with irrational fears?

In the distance a squabble broke out among some Kelth lits. One of them nipped another, and their shrill yelping caught the Kaa’s attention. He glanced around, and realized the sri-Kaa was no longer clinging to his hand.

Nor was she in sight. He stared at the small clusters of attendants, the wilting, bored courtiers, the tireless antics of the clowns. His musicians played light background melodies, but Israi was not with them either.

His heart froze inside him. How could she be gone? In an instant, he thought of a thousand possibilities, each one worse than the one before it. “Israi!” he said in alarm.

Telvrahd stepped very close to him. “I promise the Imperial Father that I shall not let this matter drop,” he said in a low voice. “If I must, I will carry it to the public forum and—”

“Silence!” the Kaa roared, spinning around and turning his back to Telvrahd. Furiously, the Kaa gestured at his guards, and they pushed Telvrahd away.

“Where is our daughter?” the Kaa demanded. “What has become of her?”

The courtiers milled about in sudden consternation, making it impossible to determine what had become of the chune or her lady in waiting.

The captain of the guard hurried to the Kaa and saluted. “Sire, a search will be conducted immediately.”

“Find her!” the Kaa commanded. He could not breathe. The air was stifling, laden with too many strange and unpleasant smells. He could feel his heart pounding. His rill stood at complete extension, and he realized he was lashing his tail back and forth beneath his coat with enough agitation to make it visible. But at that moment he hardly cared if anyone noticed. If anyone had hurt her, abducted her,
dared
touch the most precious treasure of his life, he would have them torn into pieces and burned in the forum of assembly. He would have every building, every shop, every residence searched until she was found. He would level this entire squalid section of Vir if necessary. Who had dared take his daughter, the light of the empire, the jewel of his soul?

“She is found!” came a shout over the hubbub.

A guard came running, and behind him trotted Fazhmind in his silk coat and filigreed rill collar, silver bells jingling.