Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn (21 page)

As his ship settled into its docking harness Ryden stood, his fists clenched at his sides. His spies onboard the
Kady
kept him well-informed and he knew Avatás had not followed the orders he’d been given. Twice he had engaged his ship with Coalition forces—destroying both ships—but not before taking fire and receiving minor damage to the
Kady
. During neither skirmish did he announce the fact he was carrying Cair Ghrian’s wife onboard.

For that—alone—Ryden would have stripped all rank from B’reith Avatás—but for putting The Black Sun’s woman in danger of being hurt, maimed or killed, The Burgon would accept nothing less than the Saurian’s worthless life. A delegation of scientists was waiting beyond the docking bay catwalk as The Burgon’s personal guards escorted the Aduaidh Emperor from his ship. Bowing and scraping, the scientists knew better than to speak unless spoken to and could not move back fast enough as Ryden Bakari came striding toward them. They nearly bowled one another over in their attempt to make room for their Emperor. Falling in line behind him and his escort, they were an excited horde of gnats buzzing along in his wake. After all, it was not every day the most powerful man in the universe came to visit. Ryden stopped and turned, motioning the head scientist to come forward. The man nearly tripped in his eagerness to do as he was bid. Grinning like a hyena, he stopped a good five feet away and stood there wringing his hands.

“Has the Princess Davan arrived?” Ryden asked.

“Aye, Your Excellency,” the scientist acknowledged, daring to say no more unless asked.

“She is well?”

“Aye, Your Excellency.”

“Where is she now?”

“She was given VIP quarters, Your Excellency.”

“Her needs are being met?”

“Aye, Your Excellency,” the man said. “I made sure of it.”

“Where is Avatás?”

The scientist’s grin wavered. “He is visiting the djinn, Your Excellency.”

Fury turned The Burgon’s face to stone. “Who authorized him to do that?”

Wavering grin gone, to be replaced with a look of stark terror, a stream of piss began to puddle around the head scientist’s shoes. “I did, Your Excellency,” the man whined and his eyes filled with tears.

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Ryden growled low in his throat, turned his back and—totally unaware of the head scientist collapsing like a child’s broken toy—strode angrily toward the elevator that would take him to the lowest levels of the research center.

“Your pardon, Excellency,” one of Ryden’s personal guards interrupted, “but the scientist fainted. I believe he thinks his life is forfeit for allowing the skink to have access to the djinn.”

Ryden flung out a hand. “He should be skinned alive for his recklessness but make sure he understands I won’t ask his life in return for his stupidity.”

The guard nodded and dropped back.

“Make damned sure he knows I am not pleased with him!” Ryden called out as the guard headed back to the unconscious scientist.

Only two of the seven guards flanking The Burgon entered the elevator with him. Both men had been his personal guards since he had risen to the powerful position he now held. They had also been his friends since long before that.

“If you don’t stop making people pass out, Ry,” the guard on his left said as the elevator began to descend, “we’re going to have to start carrying smelling salts around with us.”

“I don’t like idiocy, Drae,” The Burgon complained. “Especially in men who are supposed to be intelligent!”

“He most likely thought nothing of allowing the Saurian to see Riezell Nine’s infamous prisoner,” Drae Abyad commented. “I’d like to see him, too.”

“You say that now but once you do, you’ll wish you hadn’t,” Ryden told him. Drae scratched his jaw. “Is he that hideous?”

“The sight of him is the only thing that has ever caused me nightmares. Does that answer your question?”

“How long has he been locked up here?” Mazon Be-Rashamon, the other guard, inquired. He was The Burgon’s cousin and as such enjoyed the same accessibility to the Emperor as did Abyad.

“Fifty years?” Ryden questioned. “Sixty? I don’t remember but I know he was captured long before I was ever born.”

The elevator settled on the third floor of the fifteen-story building, the first ten floors of which were buried beneath the red earth of Riezell Nine. As the doors opened, the first thing The Burgon saw was B’reith Avatás’ pale face, slick with a sheen of sweat. His hands trembling, the Saurian went to one knee, his head bowed before his Emperor, his doubled fist over his heart.

“Get the hell up, skink!” Ryden ordered.

Avatás flinched as he gained his feet. He swallowed loudly and as his eyes met The Burgon’s, he read his fate in the dark blue stare.

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“Did you enjoy visiting the prisoner in Cell Two?” Ryden asked so quietly the Saurian had to strain to hear.

“No, Your Excellency,” Avatás admitted. Not only his hands but the rest of him was trembling now.

“Should I have them open his cell and throw you in there so you can get to know him up close and personal?”

Horror filled the Saurian’s narrow face and he dropped to both knees, his forehead pressed to the toes of The Burgon’s boots. “Please, Your Excellency, no!”

“But you had to see for yourself, eh?” Ryden growled.

“Your Excellency, please forgive me,” Avatás pleaded. “I only wanted to take a look at the djinn. I—”

“Get this bastard out of my sight,” Ryden sneered, pulling his boots from the Saurian’s contact. “Place him under house arrest until I decide when and how he will atone for the trouble he has caused me.”

Drae and Mazon took hold of Avatás and dragged him to his feet, pulling him away from the elevator. Before the doors closed, The Burgon grabbed the panel and looked Drae in the eye.

“If you truly want to see hell, then you have my permission to visit Cell Two, but my advice to you is to stay clear of it,” Ryden told him. He let go of the door and stepped back.

As he exited the elevator on the twelfth floor, the head scientist, Dr. Gruber, was standing there. The overweight man looked as though he was about to faint again. His lips twitched in a smile then quivered to a pout and back again. Once more he was nervously wringing his hands and waiting to be spoken to before imparting whatever news or information he had.

“Walk with me, Gruber,” The Burgon ordered as he stepped out into the corridor and turned toward what he remembered being the meeting room. Dr. Gruber dropped in behind his emperor and had trouble keeping pace with the long-legged stride of the younger man. For every step The Burgon took, Gruber made two.

“I trust the prisoner in Cell Two is being fed properly.”

“Aye, Your Excellency. We are very careful to see to it.”

“What of the other prisoners?”

“They are in excellent condition, Your Excellency.”

Ryden had reached the meeting room. He went to the long sweep of windows that looked out over the red planet. Dust storms were swirling over the broad expanse of rolling dunes and in the distance lightning stitched across the sky.

“Fetch me the Princess Davan then check with my communications officer. I want to know about it as soon as they make contact with Amhantar.”

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“Aye, Your Excellency,” Gruber said, bowing himself out of the room.

“I hate this planet,” Ryden snarled to himself.

He had been stationed here fresh out of military training on Aduaidh Prime. His two-year stay had been the lowest point in his long career and he had marked off each day with relief. Having to return to the dismal place did not set well and it brought back memories he had hoped never to dredge up.

Plowing a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair, The Burgon imagined he could still hear the hideous screaming coming from Cell Block Four as prisoners received their introduction to the horror that resided in Cell Two. Along with the screaming had come brutal, unnatural sounds that had made Ryden Bakari lean against the wall and puke. From the very first night his sleep had been interrupted time and time again by those aberrant sounds that had remained in his subconscious. The nightmares began the day he had been taken to see the djinn and those nightmares had remained through the years.

Shuddering, Ryden turned from the window and took a seat at the head of the long table that sat in the middle of the meeting room. He folded his hands on the smooth glass surface and tried to relax as much as his uneasiness would allow. Much was riding on the coming confrontation between him and the husband of the woman who at that very moment was being ushered into the room.

Davan had been warned by Dr. Gruber not to speak until spoken to. She had been instructed to bow deeply before The Burgon and to keep her eyes cast down, as was proper for a woman in the presence of the most powerful man in the universe. Neither of which she did.

“Have you contacted Amhantar?” she asked, fusing her gaze with that of the man sitting at the table.

“Woman!” Dr. Gruber hissed and plucked at her sleeve but Davan was striding angrily to the table.

“Does my husband know where you have brought me?”

Ryden was amazed the woman would show such disrespect. His own wives did not presume to question him as this one was doing and none dared look him in the eye unless he ordered it. Sitting back in his chair, he simply stared at the beautiful woman who was now close enough for him to reach out and touch.

Dr. Gruber shuffled forward, bobbing up and down. He was back to wringing his hands—washing one over the other as though they would never get clean—and staring at the floor.

“Leave us, Gruber,” The Burgon ordered and the head scientist couldn’t scramble from the room quick enough.

“If you expect me to kowtow to you like that prissy little toad—” Davan began but the imposing man staring back at her actually smiled.

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“I think of him more as a warty toad, Your Grace,” Ryden chuckled. He swept his hand out to indicate the chair to his left. “Please, sit down.”

Davan shook her head. “All I want to know is if you have sent word to my husband.”

“It is Davan, is it not?” he asked, folding his arms over his broad chest. “May I call you Davan?”

“You can call me whatever you like,” she snapped. “I resent being manhandled by your men and—”

Thunderclouds passed instantly over The Burgon’s face. “Who manhandled you?”

he demanded.

“The Saurian,” Davan answered and felt a tremor of fright wriggle down her spine.

“He—”

“His life is forfeit for daring to kidnap you in the first place!” Ryden stated, his eyes dark as sin. “If he put a hand to you, if he hurt you in any way, I will burn him alive!”

Davan’s forehead crinkled. “You did not order him to abduct me?”

“I did not. That was something the skink did on his own and without permission.”

“He said you wanted to capture my husband,” she said, lifting her chin. “That you wanted Cair to stand trial before—”

“I wanted to meet with Cair Ghrian,” The Burgon stated. “That much is true, but not as my captive, my prisoner. I wanted to meet with him to discuss peace between the Alliance and the Coalition.”

“I don’t believe you,” Davan said. “The Saurian—”

“What will it take to convince you I have no intention of allowing any harm to come to you or your mate?” he interrupted her.

She lifted her chin. “Send me home,” she said.

“I will when your husband comes to claim you.”

“He doesn’t know where I am!” she snapped.

Ryden looked past her and frowned for Drae was standing in the doorway with a look on his face that said he had given in to his curiosity and had gone to take a look at the prisoner in Cell Two despite his Burgon’s advice.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ryden said. “What do you want?”

Drae cleared his throat. “He is asking to see the woman.”

Ryden blinked. “He knows she’s here?”

Drae told him the prisoner had become violent upon being told the Amhantarean princess would not be allowed anywhere near him. “He says she needs to know her brother is here.”

Davan twisted around in her chair. “My brother? Lorcan? Lorcan Shanahan is here?”

Ryden’s frown deepened. “Are you missing a brother?”

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“Three of them,” she said, her heart thudding in her chest. “Two are dead but my middle brother was listed as Missing In Action.”

“Check and see if that man is here,” Ryden ordered. He looked hard at her. “What are the names of those who died?”

“Mason and Roman,” she replied. “Why do you want to know?”

The Burgon waved his hand at Drae and his personal guard left the room hurriedly.

“Why did you ask about Mason and Roman?” she repeated.

“Because,” he said, standing up and going to the window where the dust storm still swirled beyond the thick panes, “sometimes men thought dead wind up here—halfalive.”

“To be experimented on!” she accused. “By all that is holy if one of my kin is in this despicable place—”

“You will be reunited with them and if they choose to leave, can do so when you go back to Amhantar,” he told her.

“If they choose to leave?” she gasped.

Ryden turned to face her. “Up until a few years ago I had not interfered with what went on in this research facility, Princess Davan,” he explained. “It has been in existence since before I was a gleam in my father’s eye and is run by the Department of Biophysics. Although I am aware it has a vile reputation—most of it wild speculation, by the way—things did occur here in the past to which I put a stop.”

“Men are tortured here,” she said. “Is that wild speculation?”

He shook his head. “There are many degrees of torture. Amputating an arm or leg that is beyond saving might be considered torture if done without anesthetic on the battlefield but it was necessary to save the warrior’s life. Torture for the sake of simply causing pain has never—or at least never to my knowledge—been done here and it would never have been condoned.”