Deathstalker Legacy (33 page)

“I still don’t get why the Church has turned against aliens, all of a sudden,” said Jesamine.

“I can explain it, but don’t expect it to make sense,” said Lewis, still not looking away from the demonstration. “The Church is all about Transcendence, right? They’ve now decided that since only humans transcend through the Madness Maze, that proves aliens are automatically inferior beings, fit only to be guided, for which read ruled, by their natural superiors, Humanity. For their own good, of course. Whenever people want to have power over others, it’s always for their own good. Basically, the Neumen want a return to the good old days of Empire, when aliens knew their place. As slaves or corpses. Their new partnership with the Church gives the Pure Humanity cause a new patina of respectability. If the official Church of the Empire has accepted their beliefs, then there must be something to them. People who wouldn’t listen before are listening now. And far too many are starting to believe.”

“But it was only a few weeks ago that they tried to murder the King with a transmutation bomb!”

“The Church and the Neumen have disowned him. A lone nut, apparently. Poor bastard died for nothing. The cause has a new spokesman now; the Angel of Madraguda.”

“I never liked him,” Jesamine said immediately. “Met him once, at a charity do. He had sweaty hands and piggy little eyes, and kept looking at my breasts while he was talking to me. Talked a lot, but never really said much. I’ve met his sort before. Out for what he can get, that one. But I never knew him to have any political ambitions, or connections . . .”

“Well he has now,” said Lewis. “In fact, he’s bigger than ever now. You can’t turn on the vid without him being there, saying awful, hateful things in that calm and reasonable voice of his. The trouble is, he’s saying what a lot of people want to hear; that they’re better than the aliens. And that they have a right to change things, by force if necessary . . . The only thing more dangerous than an angry mob is an angry mob with an agenda. That isn’t just a demonstration out there; they’re headed somewhere. Somewhere specific. I think I’d better call in . . .”

Jesamine shuddered. “I hope there aren’t any aliens out on the streets just now . . . if things do get out of hand . . .”

They stood together, shoulder to shoulder before the steelglass window, watching the demonstration pass by. There seemed no end to it, hundreds and hundreds of cold-faced men and women, chanting their horrid doctrines in harsh, angry voices. Jesamine shuddered again, and Lewis put his arm around her shoulders. And then he turned slowly to look at Jesamine, almost despite himself, and she turned to look at him. Their faces were very close now, and drawing closer every moment, until they could feel each other’s breath on their lips and in their mouths. They looked into each other’s eyes and could not look away, as the angry passions outside somehow fed the simple shared passion inside. Their breathing quickened, becoming deeper, heavier. Their eyes locked, saying everything they hadn’t said while sitting at their table. In the end, it didn’t matter who moved first. They pressed urgently against each other, holding each other fiercely, as though someone might tear them apart, and they kissed with a lifetime’s passion.

When they finally broke apart, they were panting for breath. Lewis tried to say something, and couldn’t. He turned his head aside, and Jesamine tightened her grip on him. Lewis looked back at her, and their eyes locked again. They were both trembling.

“We can’t do this,” said Lewis. “We
can’t.
It’s wrong. Douglas is my friend!”

“Hell,” said Jesamine. “He’s my fiancé. I’m going to marry him.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know! It’s complicated.”

“Not for me,” said Lewis.

In the end, because she’d always been the practical one, Jesamine found the strength to let go first. She put her hands on Lewis’s armored chest and pushed him back, and he stumbled a little, as though she’d hit him. But she couldn’t have moved him unless he’d let her, and they both knew it. They were still staring into each other’s eyes. They were still breathing hard. Their hands trembled at their sides, as though desperate to reach out again.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lewis said finally. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Never?” said Jesamine. “Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

“No,” said Lewis. “There’s only ever been me. And Douglas.”

“Hush,” said Jesamine, and raised a hand to touch his mouth with her fingertips.

Lewis turned his head away. He looked out across the tea room, and that was when he saw Anne Barclay, standing there, watching him with Jesamine. And Lewis just knew, from the expression on her face, that she’d been watching for some time.

“Anne?” he said, though his voice didn’t sound like his at all. “What are you doing here?”

Jesamine looked around sharply and saw Anne, but apart from a slight widening of her eyes, her face betrayed nothing at all.

“What am I doing here?” said Anne, advancing on the two of them with the inevitability of destiny. “More to the point, what the hell are you two doing here? No; don’t say it, Lewis. Whatever you were about to say, it would only have been a lie, and you never were any good at that. And I really don’t have the time or the patience to stand here and listen to you stutter. I came here looking for you. You’re needed back at Parliament, both of you. Douglas has been called to an emergency Session of the House, and he’s going to need all the support he can get.

“You may have noticed the commotion outside, when you weren’t busy eating each other’s faces. Well, that march is just one of seven, all of them equally large, equally angry, and equally determined. They’re all headed straight for the Parliament building, and absolutely no one thinks they’re coming to hand in a petition. There’s a really bad feeling in the air, Lewis. We’ve called in every peacekeeper in the city, but we can’t afford a direct confrontation. The Church has made it very clear it isn’t going to be stopped, or diverted. We even try and put up barricades, and they’ll use that as an excuse to hit out with everything they’ve got. If we don’t find just the right way to defuse this . . . it’ll all end in tears. Guaranteed. Now get your arses moving, both of you. I’ve got a gravity barge waiting out the back.”

Jesamine just nodded, and headed for the cloakroom to fetch her fur coat. She passed straight by Anne, her head held high. She still hadn’t said anything, and Lewis could only admire her grace under pressure. He could feel the flush reddening his face, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Anne and he stood and stared at each other until Jesamine returned with her coat, having dismissed her security people. She headed for the rear of the tea rooms with a calm and composed face, as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Anne glared at Lewis, and he almost flinched.

“How could you?” she said, her voice so low it was almost a growl. “What the hell did you think you were doing, Lewis? She’s marrying Douglas in two weeks’ time! Your best friend! She will be Queen to his King. You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” said Lewis, trying hard to keep his voice under control. “I don’t know how it happened. It just . . . happened. I know it was wrong, but . . . it’s not like she loves him. It’s an arranged marriage. Not much more than a business merger. And Jesamine . . . she’s special. She matters to me. Damn it, aren’t I allowed anything for myself? I’m not a Paragon anymore. I’m supposed to be the Champion, but no one seems to know what that is. And ever since my best friend became King, he’s had no time for me. I’m so alone, Anne . . . I never wanted to be Champion. Never expected it. I only agreed because I thought Douglas needed me. And now it seems like I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me. Am I so wrong to want something for myself, Anne? She makes me happy. She cares for me.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Lewis.” Anne’s voice was more contemptuous than angry. “She’s an actress, remember? I’ve known her for years, and there never was a man she couldn’t twist around her little finger. Much more likely, she was bored and you were there. She’s going to have to give up a lot to become Queen, including a lot of freedoms she’s always taken for granted. You were just a last fling, a last gesture, one last taste of freedom before she has to give it all up and become respectable. I thought you were smarter than this, Lewis. Stronger than this. If even a hint of this were to get out, the gossip shows would have a field day, you know they would. And the King’s enemies would use you to destroy him. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not! He’s my friend!”

“
Then act like it!
And from now on keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself whenever you’re around little miss hot-to-trot. I may not be able to trust her, but I thought I could trust you.”

“You can,” said Lewis. His face was calm now, and his voice was cold and steady, and only someone who knew him really well could have seen the sadness in his eyes. Anne, who had known him since childhood, took him gently by the arm and guided him towards the rear of the tea rooms.

“Come on, Lewis. There’s work to be done, and we’re needed. It’s not the same as being wanted, but it will have to do.”

 

Over at Finn’s charming apartment, the Durandal and his people were watching the Church/Neumen demonstration on the oversized vidscreen that took up most of one wall. The colors were a bit overpowering, but the three dimensions and surround sound made it just like looking out a window. Finn didn’t have much use for toys, as a rule; but when he did decide he wanted something, he never settled for anything but the very best version available. He sat, completely relaxed, in his favorite chair, drinking a fashionable wine and smiling happily as his plans unfolded before him.

Angelo Bellini sat in the chair next to him, intent and focused on the vidscreen, smiling now and again when he forgot himself. He had a drink in his hand but was so caught up in the drama of the events he’d help orchestrate, he kept forgetting the drink was there. Every now and again he would lean forward suddenly as he spotted a familiar face among the marchers, and loudly identify them to the rest of the room, who if truth be told weren’t really all that interested. Angelo didn’t notice, entirely wrapped up in himself and his own reactions. And every now and again, he would suddenly twitch or scratch himself, in an exaggerated fashion, and never know it wasn’t by his own volition.

Brett Random sneered at him, sitting slumped in a chair as far away from the others as he could get. He’d drunk the best part of a bottle of brandy in the past hour, but it hadn’t done a thing to improve his disposition. Brett was in a foul mood and didn’t care who knew it, though he still had enough sense to keep quiet whenever Finn glanced his way. His stomach still hurt, but now he had a throbbing headache to go along with it. Thanks to the esper drug, Brett had to spend a lot of his time tuning out the constant roar of all the minds thinking around him. It was slowly getting easier, and he had a feeling that eventually he’d be able to do it automatically. And somewhere off in the distance, in a direction he couldn’t identify, he could see or hear or feel something . . . splendid. Something that shone like the sun. Something that felt like the home he’d never known. It was calling to him. He thought it might be the oversoul.

It scared the crap out of him.

He’d started to experiment with his new abilities. He’d already discovered that with a little concentration he could influence people around him. Make them do things. Nothing major, nothing important. But he could make Angelo’s face twitch, and make him scratch an itch he didn’t actually have. A cheap laugh admittedly, but in Finn’s service you had to make do with what you could get. It wasn’t the most useful of talents, but it was a start, he supposed. And it pleased him to have an ability Finn knew nothing about. Never knew when you might need a weapon for the future. An ace in the hole. Brett smiled, and drank his brandy.

He’d tried out his new ability on Rose Constantine, but she immediately turned and looked right at him, so he didn’t try that again. The last thing he wanted was to attract her attention. He was still trying to come to terms with that astonishing moment when their minds had briefly touched. Ever since, he’d felt differently about her, though he couldn’t say how. Rose kept looking at him, and he couldn’t read the expression on her face. It was a bit like waking up the next morning after a really good party, and discovering a stranger in bed with you. So that there was now someone new in your life that you’d been close to, but really didn’t know at all. She’d drawn up her chair right next to his, almost uncomfortably close. And she kept
looking
at him. For the moment she was watching the events on the vidscreen, because Finn had told her to, but Brett could tell she wasn’t interested in any of it. He just . . . knew that.

“You did a good job, Angelo,” Finn said suddenly, and Angelo and Brett both jumped, just a little. Finn smiled lazily. “Joining the Church and the Neumen at the hip was one of my more inspired ideas. Though I never dreamed they’d take to each other so completely, and so quickly.”

“It was surprisingly easy,” Angelo admitted. “The right words in the right ears, at the right level, and suddenly people at the top on both sides became very receptive. It helped that both sides were frustrated with their lack of progress; once I showed them what they could achieve if they joined forces, they couldn’t wait to get started. And of course, once word came down from on high, the lower orders were only too happy to go along. I’ve always been very good at pointing out to people where their best interests lie. And it’s always been easier to get people to hate than to get them to love. Doesn’t matter in the end whether it’s religion or politics; people do so love to have a scapegoat, someone to blame for all the troubles and failures of their little lives. Someone other than themselves, of course. And what could be more
other
than aliens? I should have thought of this years ago.”