Rogue (32 page)

Not that Trag wasn't a great guy—and I certainly didn't regret anything I'd done with him—but while it's often been said that you can't help who you fall in love with, sometimes you get it right anyway.

As I lay there with Tychar, I remembered the vision he'd had that I would come to him, and his life would change as a result. I hadn't thought about that for some time, but now, it all seemed to be coming true. The one thing I hadn't considered was just how much everyone else's life would change—or end—along with his.

"You are not sleeping," he murmured.

"Wish I could," I grumbled. "Must be that nap I took on the drayl keeping me awake."

He laughed softly. "I can think of many other things which might keep you awake," he said. "Much better things," he added.

"You're probably right about that," I admitted.

"But there are some not so good things keeping me awake, too."

He seemed to hesitate a moment before saying carefully, "What will you do if we are able to secure the throne for Zealon? Will you stay here or return to Earth?"

"I don't know," I said frankly. "I suppose that depends on whether or not she wants to keep on taking piano lessons."

"And also if she wishes to keep slaves as her mother did."

Obviously he wasn't completely convinced that his freedom was real. "I don't think she would," I said. "Besides, I've always gotten the impression that you guys were Scalia's own personal possessions, not government property, so her death should free you. But if you're concerned about it, you should talk to Zealon, since she would probably stand to inherit anything of Scalia's. I don't think she'd feel any need to keep you as slaves— though she might employ you at the palace—but I seriously doubt she'd want to keep you locked up, even for your own protection."

"She didn't question it when I used one of the stones to pay for the animals we took," he said reflectively.

"No, if you're truly free, then I'd say those stones are yours now—as sort of a reimbursement for your years of service. So you've got enough money to do just about anything—you could stay here or leave Darconia altogether, if you liked."

"And if I was to do that—travel to another world— would you go with me?"

Since I had already decided never to leave Darconia in order to stay with him, I'd have liked to see anyone try to stop me from following him clear across the galaxy!

"Yes, I would go with you," I replied. "If you wanted me to, that is."

"Kyra," he said gently. "How can you imagine that I would not?"

"Well, you've got plenty of money now, and you aren't a slave anymore," I reminded him. "Any woman would want—"

"I have no interest in what 'any woman' would want,"

he said. "Your wishes are the only ones that matter to me." He paused as he kissed me again, his soft, warm lips sending my senses reeling. "So, tell me, Kyra: what do you wish for?"

My mind went blank as I realized there was only one thing I'd ever really wanted enough to ask for it in my whole life. "You," I sighed. "Just you. You're all I've ever wanted."

"Then from this moment forth, I am yours," he said.

"You have my body, my soul, and, most of all, my love."

With tears welling up in my eyes, I could barely speak through the tightness in my throat. "I love you so much, Ty," I whispered.

"No more than I love you, Kyra, and I will love no other," he promised. "We will be together forever."

Tychar had once said he wanted me to break his heart, but it was mine that was breaking as our lips met again. Here we were in the middle of a war, talking about forever! Losing him was something I didn't ever want to have to face. He might vow to fight to the death to save me, but it was up to me to keep
him
safe, too—and I promised myself I would do just that—even if I had to fight to the death myself.

"Sleep now, my love," he whispered in a voice which promised even greater delights yet to come. "I will be here to keep you safe."

And send shivers down my spine for the rest of my life. I was looking forward to that...

As I began to drift off to sleep, I heard the strangest sound—almost like that of a donkey braying.

"Oh, God!" Trag said morosely from where he lay on my other side. "Sladnil's upset!"

"Upset?" I repeated. "About what?" If I seemed skeptical, it was because, out of all of Scalia's slaves, Sladnil struck me as the least likely to cry about anything.

"Scalia," Tychar replied. "He was very fond of her."

"Oh, my Scalia!" Sladnil moaned. "Where will I ever find such a lover again? I loved her big, scaly body."

"This is grossing me out," I muttered, wondering why Wazak didn't just up and flatten him on general principles— one consort to another, as it were. "I don't suppose there's any tactful way to shut him up, is there?"

"Guess we could find him another woman,"

Trag suggested. "But I don't know if we'll find any around here. All of the miners I've seen so far have been men."

It was hard to comfort someone like Sladnil—I mean, he wasn't the sort you'd want to hug or anything—but surprisingly, Nindala murmured to him, and he quieted down. When I got up later on, I saw why. They were lying side by side, and Sladnil was sound asleep with the tip of one finger sucked onto her nipple. Nindala appeared to be sleeping, too, but she had a smile on her face.

That evening, we had dinner with the miners, who were surprisingly subdued—undoubtedly due to Zealon's presence; either that, or Wazak had them all too scared to open their mouths. They seemed like a decent bunch of guys to me, though I still thought Dragus was better looking.

After the meal, we talked strategy. Going in under cover of night seemed the best plan and, if the passage hadn't been blocked, we knew we could get into the palace through The Shrine—though it was anyone's guess what we'd find once we got inside. With Lerotan's weaponry, we had plenty of firepower, but it would be so much more effective to get to Dobraton and take her out without killing anyone else. Being a peace-loving piano teacher, this plan appealed to me, not only because Dobraton was the one responsible for everything, but because so many people had already died as a result of her bid for power. Nineteen of the miners had been killed in their battle alone, and we could only guess at how many had died inside the palace and at the spaceport—on either side—though if anyone had counted the number of fallen in Dobraton's army, I hadn't heard of it, which made me wonder what had become of the survivors.

"What happened after the battle?" I asked Lerotan.

"Did Dobraton's men retreat, or did you capture them, or what?"

"They are being held captive in the mines," he replied.

"Think we could persuade them to come over to our side?"

Lerotan laughed mirthlessly. "Would you trust them?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, Leroy, I'm not sure I trust
you."

His smile indicated that he didn't really blame me for that, nor did he seem to mind the nickname I'd given him. Nice smile, too. Charming fellow.

"I have no reason to trust you, either," he said equably. "When everyone in your group was told to throw down their weapons, you didn't."

"Noticed that, did you?" I said with a grin. "Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm new to this being taken prisoner thing."

"Not a typical day in the life of a piano teacher?" he suggested with another killer smile.

Oh, yes, he was
definitely
charming! In fact, I thought I might have to revise my initial impression of him; he might not be such a sexist pig after all, and the tail might prove interesting, too. I wondered if he liked blue redheads.

"Not really," I admitted. "But to answer your previous question, no, we probably can't trust them, but we could still use all the help we can get. What about it, Zealon?" I asked, with a nod in her direction. "Think you could drum up some support?"

Never having done much in the way of public relations as yet, Zealon wasn't sure, but said she would give it a try. It would be helpful to know what Dobraton had promised them—money, power, prestige?—because if they truly agreed with her beliefs, it would be difficult to convert them. Mercenaries, however, were a different story and could be bought. It was possible that they might hold out, thinking that someone would come and rescue them, but Dobraton was undoubtedly too busy to worry about what had happened in the mines and was putting off dealing with the problem until things settled down a bit. For my part, I hoped her situation never did improve; in fact, I hoped things were going really rotten for her. An open rebellion would be best, but an attitude of noncooperation might cause her enough headaches to keep her from dealing with the miners—before we got around to dealing with her, that is.

Wazak was all for storming the palace and going in with guns blazing, and I was afraid Lerotan would agree. To prevent further loss of life, I felt we should be more subtle than that, and besides, we
did have
the keys!

The trick would be to get into the palace to organize a counter-rebellion. There had been far more guards in the palace than we could count among our group, and there had been scads of other workers who had been loyal to Scalia, as well. Dobraton couldn't have killed them all—though it was possible that she'd simply had them expelled from the palace. If that was the case, we might be able to find them in the town, get them together, and then retake the palace by force, if necessary. And if we could gather enough support among the civilian population, our numbers would be even more imposing.

Unfortunately, no matter how we went about it, we still had to cross the desert, and out there in the open, a large army could have defeated us quite easily. Therefore, it was agreed that our return had to be as stealthy as possible, using Lerotan's weapons as a last resort. We didn't want to reduce the palace to rubble to take it, either, which was something Tychar pointed out. He knew a little bit about that, and though he wasn't completely sure that the destruction of Zetith had been intentional, the timing had been entirely too opportune for it to have been mere coincidence.

The funny thing was, the former slaves were the ones who seemed to be the most excited about retaking the palace. The Edraitians just wanted to get on to their next gig and the arms dealers to their next sale, but Sladnil and Refdeck were practically jumping up and down with excitement, and they weren't the only ones—Tychar and Trag both had a bit of a gleam in their eyes, as well.

Having been slaves for so long, they probably welcomed the opportunity to kick some Darconian ass—either that, or they truly were fond of Scalia and wanted to avenge her death—but the simple truth was that they were all bored to tears and were craving a little adventure. Aside from that, the palace
was
their home, and they had nowhere else to go—and if the spaceport never reopened, neither did I.

More out of curiosity than anything, I went along with Zealon and Dragus to visit the remaining members of Dobraton's forces. I wasn't sure how they would respond, but apparently a little time spent locked up in the darkness of the mines had been enough to make a bunch of sun-loving lizards willing to swear an oath of fealty to the devil himself.

They made a brief show of belligerence, but it passed pretty quickly when Dragus made some comment about leaving them there to rot until Dobraton decided to come to their rescue. Zealon asked them a number of good questions, but the one that had been plaguing me was one she omitted.

"So, just what was it that Dobraton promised you guys when you joined up with her?" I asked curiously.

"Money, glowstones, or what?"

There was a bit of foot shuffling and some averted eyes, which meant it had to have been something other than money and possibly something not quite kosher— spoils of war and such.

"Favors," came the reluctant reply from one of the group, though I didn't see who had actually spoken.

"Favors," I repeated. "What kind of favors?" Searching their faces, I finally singled out one who was actually making eye contact with me. "You there, what were you offered?"

He looked at me for a long moment before he replied. "Those loyal to Dobraton would be paid well," he said at last. "And then given their choice of the females taken prisoner."

"I see," I said slowly. "Well, I guess that's what happens to prisoners of war," I admitted, though I wouldn't have thought they'd be that desperate. "But a handsome bunch of guys like you shouldn't be so hard up for women that you'd have to resort to taking prisoners!"

Another of them cleared his throat in a very human gesture. Carefully avoiding Zealon's eyes, he said, "We were promised a chance at the Princess."

I laughed out loud. "Well, to do that, Dobraton will have to catch her first, and somehow I can't see Wazak letting that happen."

"Nevertheless, that is what we were promised," he said stiffly.

"Well," I said in as matter of fact a tone as I could under the circumstances, "if any of you have a desire to become the consort of a
queen,
rather than a princess who's been taken prisoner, you might consider helping her regain her throne."

This was an aspect of the situation which had obviously not occurred to any of them. Perhaps it was a good thing Zealon had come to recruit them herself, though she seemed awfully young to be choosing consorts. She handled it well, however, showing more poise than I would have at that age. Perhaps growing up as a princess made you mature faster—and suddenly becoming Queen when your mother was assassinated would tend to have a sobering effect on anyone.

In the end, the men swore an oath of loyalty to Zealon, which probably wasn't as believable and binding as one coming from men who were not behind bars, but circumstances can't always be as perfect as one would wish. Zealon then conferred with Dragus on whether we should release the prisoners or keep them where they were until we were ready to leave for the palace. Not surprisingly, he wanted Wazak's input before releasing anyone.

"In his capacity as the Chief of Security, you understand, Princess," Dragus added courteously. "His advice in this instance would be beneficial."