Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (33 page)

“Absurd,” Israi said with indifference. “Antiquity is dust. Your world is dust. Live in the present, Ampris. Realize that you should have stayed hidden and left well enough alone.”

“I will see justice done,” Ampris said. “My people deserve—”

“Nothing!” Israi retorted.

“The treaty still stands, violated by the Viis. Which means the Aarouns have the right to leave.”

“And go where?” Israi replied. “You have invented this fable. No such treaty ever existed.”

“Oh, but it did,” Ampris said with a peculiar light of passion in her dark eyes. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“We care nothing for your proof,” Israi said sharply.

Ampris went over to a console and activated a screen. “I’ll call up the file here and now. You’ll be able to read it and—”

“You will release us this moment,” Israi said in a low, furious voice. “If you do not obey immediately, you will die. The penalty for holding the Imperial Mother against her will is—”

“—death, yes, I know,” Ampris broke in. “Come and read this, Israi. You will see I do not lie.”

Israi saw a screen filled with words, and her rill stiffened in affront. “We shall look at nothing.”

“But, Israi—”

“We are the Kaa!” Israi shouted, stamping her foot. “You will address us with proper respect, or your tongue will be cut from your head.”

Ampris stared at her, then began to smile. “All right, majesty. Forgive me for offending you.”

She said the correct words, but there was still no respect in her tone. Israi seethed, but as long as she was locked in this room there was nothing she could do.

“Please listen to me, just for a moment,” Ampris said. “The Aarouns were to work for the Viis for one generation only. That debt has been repaid a thousand times over. Let us go.”

“Never,” Israi said. Her rill was so stiff it throbbed. She understood now. Ampris was just another part of the rabble, the freedom fighters, the troublemakers and traitors who spread through the city like Skeks, causing problems wherever they went. Well, Ampris’s heart had always been in the wrong place.

“Slavery is morally and ethically wrong,” Ampris was saying. “Your empire has technological capabilities that make the need for slaves superfluous.”

“Such big words,” Israi said, mocking her. “Perhaps it was a mistake to educate you after all. You have made poor use of all that we gave you.”

Anger flashed in Ampris’s eyes. “You gave me everything, then you took it away.”

Israi smiled and flicked out her tongue. “Such was our right. You were our possession. When a toy is outgrown, or it breaks, that toy is thrown away.”

Ampris growled, and Israi’s rill stiffened. They glared at each other. Ampris was the first to drop her gaze, and Israi sighed in smug satisfaction. This interview was tiresome, but she knew that Ampris would bend to her will as she always had. The early years of training would tell.

“We need not go into what happened between us,” Ampris said after a moment. “What’s important now is the fate of the abiru—”

“Which concerns us not at all,” Israi said dismissively. “Enough of this chatter, Ampris. You will release us at once.”

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. Israi’s spirits leaped. At last her guards had come. She lifted her head very high as Ampris opened the door.

But no guards in distinctive cloaks of green stood there. Instead, it was only a clutch of Myals, blinking and staring in at her.

“It’s true,” one of them said. “The Imperial Mother.”

A second one started to kneel, but the others jabbed him with their elbows, and he sprang upright with a look of confusion in his eyes.

Enraged, Israi hissed and started toward the open door. “Out of our way!” she commanded.

Two of the Myals stepped back, but the others blocked the doorway, and Ampris moved to stand between it and Israi.

“Let us go!” Israi commanded.

“Not until you listen to all I have to say.”

“We have heard your pathetic petition. The answer is no.”

“But, Israi—”

“No!” she shouted, her rill so stiff it ached. “Never, Ampris. Never! You would have used your time better in asking for a pardon for yourself. The rest of this is too absurd to consider.”

“But the people are going hungry,” Ampris said quietly, her expressive eyes pleading with Israi the way they used to when she would beg for one civa cake too many. “The empire is crumbling. We know you lost the war with the mining worlds—”

“How could you know that?” Israi blurted out in astonishment before she could stop herself.

The Myals and Ampris exchanged grim looks. “That confirms it,” said Quiesl, the chief archivist. “The rumors are true.”

Israi could not believe she had been tricked so easily by these lackeys. She fought to control her temper, telling herself that they were more clever than they appeared. She would have to take care. Somehow, she had to win her freedom.

“My point is made,” Ampris said to her. “Why hold on to the abiru, when you can no longer feed or control them? Why not shrink and consolidate only the best of the empire until it can recover financially? We are a burden on your economy and—”

“Ah,” Israi broke in with a sneer. “And now you are a minister of finance and economics, Ampris. We are amazed at your many skills. How kind of you to advise us on matters that are none of your concern.”

“Israi—”

“We are Kaa!” Israi shouted, losing control of her temper. “We are the sun and the stars to you! We are as the heavens above you, while you crawl on your bellies like the basest insects. Get on your knees to us and give us the respect that is our due!”

No one moved. They only stared at her as though she had gone mad. Breathless and astonished by their lack of reaction, Israi stared back. Her sense of unease grew, coiling and twisting inside her.

She flicked out her tongue and asked, “Are you going to kill the Imperial Mother?”

Ampris’s eyes widened with pity that only infuriated Israi more. “No, your life is in no danger here,” Ampris said.

By now Israi was almost too angry to care. “Then get out of our way and let us go.”

“Will you at least consider my request?” Ampris asked.

“Do you think we are bargaining here?” Israi replied in amazement. “A slave does not bargain with the Imperial Mother.”

“I am not your slave,” Ampris said in a low voice of menace. Her eyes were suddenly flat and hostile, all their wide-eyed charm gone as though it had never existed. “I do not bow to you. I do not acknowledge you as my owner. You sold me. You cannot have me back.”

Israi met her glare with equal anger. Neither of them spoke.

“What are we to do?” Quiesl asked, breaking into the tense silence. He was wringing his hands and his tail was coiled tightly around his leg. The other Myals had begun to look frightened and alarmed. “Ampris, she does not relent. Must we keep her here as a prisoner?”

“Yes!” said another Myal, one with a black mane and the burning eyes of a fanatic. “She is our hostage. We can force the Viis government to release the abiru in exchange for her.”

Israi laughed. It was scornful, contemptuous laughter. She could not hold it back. “You poor fools,” she said. “Our egg-brother has been released from exile and is back at court. If we are kept a prisoner, our throne will be taken in a coup, and Lord Oviel will be named Kaa in our place. You have nothing with us as your hostage, nothing except a death sentence.”

They blinked, their momentary bravado punctured.

Ampris backed her ears and nodded. “It’s true,” she said. “Viis politics provide no allowances for the ransoming of kaas. We cannot hold her.”

Dismay flashed in their faces. “But, Ampris,” Quiesl said, “is there nothing that can be done?”

“Israi has given us her answer,” Ampris said, casting Israi a glance of disappointment. She stepped aside and gestured at the Myals. “Let the Imperial Mother go.”

Reluctantly they parted, moving away from the doorway. Israi did not hesitate. With her head high and her rill stiff, she swept through the room and up the corridor and out of the Archives. She did not look back even once, but her heart was swollen with venom.

Ampris watched the Kaa stride away, wide skirts sweeping the floor, jewels flashing, rill turned a dark indigo blue. Every line in Israi’s body betrayed her fury. But as vain and as headstrong as she still was, as impossibly stubborn, as ruthless, and as cruel as Israi was, she had undeniable courage. For a second, Ampris let a trace of her old admiration leak through her, then she shut it away once more. Israi made a formidable adversary, and Ampris knew her too well to even hope she would forgive this incident.

The moment she was gone, Ampris drew in a sharp breath and turned on her friends. “Hurry!” she said with an urgency that startled them. “Whatever is most valuable, get it now.”

Quiesl blinked at her. The others simply stared in bewilderment. “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“We have only a few minutes. The moment Israi reaches her guards, she will send them here. There will be no mercy. Save what you can, and hurry! We have to get out of here!”

They jostled each other, milling in confusion. Ampris looked at them in despair, realizing she’d panicked them. Swiftly she gripped Quiesl by his arms and nearly lifted him off his feet.

“Listen to me!” she ordered. “Don’t panic. Think, Quiesl. What is your procedure for an emergency evacuation?”

He gulped, his broad mouth working. “The crown jewels. No, I cannot remove them from the vault without authority. Let me think. Oh, yes, I am responsible for the Scrolls of Antwar.”

“And I the Histories,” said Prynan.

“The shoes of Nithlived,” said Non.

“The sword of Zimbarl,” said Hoptwith.

“The Revelations of the Dreamer and all the collected works of—”

“Don’t stand there,” Ampris told them. She gave Quiesl a shove. “Each of you, get whatever you’re assigned, and head for the workmen’s entrance on the north side. Don’t deviate from the plan. I’ll collect your belongings from your quarters. Hurry!”

They scattered, short and purposeful, creatures of preservation in action.

Ampris limped downstairs to a lower level, wondering if she would ever see any of them again. She hoped she was wrong, but she knew how swiftly an arrest force could strike. They had only minutes to get out of here. Even if she took the time to lock the place, Security could override their locking systems. Instead, she swept through the small, spare cells, gathering up blankets, clothing, holo-cubes with images of loved ones, anything that looked precious and portable. Loading the stuff on a blanket, she dragged it with her, stopping only in the galley to clean out cupboards of food.

That was all she dared do. At the last minute, on impulse, she picked up a slim wooden box, clearly ancient and blackened with age, and tossed it into the blanket also.

Her burden was heavy and awkward to drag, but Ampris did not slow her pace. Inside her head, time was ticking. She wondered which of the archivists would wander off too far into the vast holdings of this treasure trove, seeking some additional item to save.

To her surprise, however, all of them but Prynan were waiting at the exit she’d specified by the time she reached it.

Non ran to help her. “Ampris, that is too heavy for you. Careful, careful. You are not well enough to handle such a load.”

She waved him back. “Open the door. Let’s go!”

“But Prynan has not come—”

“He knows the way. Just move!” she ordered.

Her impetus carried them forward. Clutching bundles and artifacts, they trotted through the door that Quiesl unlocked. Then it was up the crumbling stone steps and into the darkness of night, with the ruins of the old palace surrounding them.

“Go!” Ampris said. “Keep moving. Head for where the wall is broken.”

“But, Ampris,” Quiesl asked. “Do you expect us to throw ourselves in the river?”

“Yes,” she said, panting hard as she struggled with her heavy bundle. “Do you want to be executed on the next vidcast? Go!”

“We must wait for Prynan,” Non protested.

“We can’t,” she said ruthlessly, shoving them forward. Sweat poured into her eyes, stinging them. She grunted and heaved the bundle up onto the rubble next to the wall. “Hoptwith, you’re the strongest. Get on top of the wall. Everyone, throw your loot to him, and he’ll drop it on the other side.”

“Drop it!” Non exclaimed in horror. “But—”

“It will survive, or it won’t,” Ampris said. “Go!”

Hoptwith scrambled onto the wall, with Ampris boosting him from behind. With Quiesl’s help, she lifted her heavy bundle to Hoptwith, who groaned as he wrestled it over the top of the wall. Ampris heard the thud on the other side, the sound of something breaking, and a splash.

The Myals stood there in horrified silence. Ampris grabbed Non’s precious artifact, unable to see it well in the darkness, and tossed it up to Hoptwith, who barely caught it.

“Careful!” Non said in agony.

By then the others were complying, handing up their armfuls one at a time.

Quiesl paced back and forth, wringing his hands. “We’ll never get things straightened out. All those crystals mixed up, and, oh,
gods!”
he swore. “I forgot a viewer—”

“I got one,” Ampris assured him. “If it didn’t break. Start climbing.”

She helped him reach the top of the wall, then boosted each of the others.

Non perched awkwardly up there, looking like he might fall off at any moment. “Look!” he shouted, pointing. “It’s Prynan!”

Ampris felt a spurt of relief, but at the same time she grabbed Non’s foot in warning. “Be quiet! You’ll lead them straight to us.”

“Sorry,” he said, sounding abashed. “Come on, Prynan! Hurry!”

Since he would not stop shouting, Ampris grasped his foot and shoved upward, toppling him off the wall and onto the other side. He went tumbling, his arms flailing, and she heard a series of muffled thuds and a groan. Ignoring the protests of the others, she gestured furiously.

“Jump!” she commanded, her voice low and fierce. “Scatter. Hide.”

“But, Ampris,” Quiesl said. “What about—”

Ignoring him, she turned back to Prynan, who was stumbling through the darkness, after having left the door open behind him, allowing light to shine up the well of steps. She could have throttled him for being so careless. He was hunched over; obviously his arms were filled with more than he could really carry. She hurried to him and grabbed his elbow, jostling him so that some of the items tumbled from his arms.