Deathstalker Legacy (37 page)

Of course, there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. The people he’d chosen to fight were actually his own people, hand-picked bravos recruited from the smoke-filled dens of the Rookery; paid handsomely to put up a good fight and lose impressively, right where the camera could see it. And protect him from the genuine rioters while they did it. They blended in easily with the rest of the mob, largely anonymous in their previously supplied crimson Church outfits, and engaged Finn in lengthy, flashy but essentially safe duels that the watching home audience would eat up with spoons. And if none of these apparent bad guys were actually dying; well, that just showed how merciful and compassionate the great Finn Durandal could be.

It was all going very well, until Emma Steel suddenly appeared out of nowhere, bound and determined to fight at his side. He knew her reputation. Everyone did. He couldn’t fake a duel in front of her and hope to get away with it. So he shrugged mentally, and killed his own people. He did it quickly, before they could realize he wasn’t pretending anymore; but even so, he thought Emma gave him a strange, almost puzzled look before the last of the bravos was dead, and the real crowd closed in around them, and they were both fighting for real.

Finn was just planning a path that would take him (apparently by chance) to the edge of the roiling crowd, and relative safety, when there was a roar of displaced air above him, and he looked up sharply to see military gravity barges appearing in the sky above the riot. Huge, dark vessels, bristling with rows of disrupter cannon, every one of them targeted on the crowd below. Loud broadcast voices called for the mob to throw down their weapons and surrender, or else. Finn and Emma stood back to back, sword and gun still in hand, looking quickly about them to see which way the crowd would go. The mob had found a taste for blood, and just might make a fight of it. And then the espers appeared, dozens of them, hovering in midair beside and among the gravity barges, looking down on the mess of mere humanity below them like so many angels standing in judgement. Their eyes glowed bright as suns as they hung unsupported on the air, the sheer sense of their presence almost overwhelming. When they spoke it was with one voice, sounding simultaneously in everyone’s mind; a great godlike Voice that could not be defied or debated, only obeyed.

All through the crowd, people dropped guns and swords and improvised weapons, their hands opening in spite of themselves. The compulsion in their minds shut down everything but their most basic thought processes. Their faces were blank, their eyes empty, all rage and passion and individuality gone in a moment. Only the surviving peacekeepers, security forces, and Paragons remained untouched, exempt from the telepathic gas. Emma slowly lowered her sword, looking wonderingly about her. Finn put away his sword and gun and walked away, unnoticed. Peacekeepers began slowly making their way through the calm, unresponsive crowd, searching out the troublemakers and rabble-rousers, and collecting discarded weapons by the armful. The telepaths walked across the air above the crowd, sifting through minds in search of guilty secrets. Once that would have been an illegal, unthinkable act, but the oversoul had the King’s authority. For the moment. And men and women who only a moment before had been willing to fight and die for the cause they believed in, now stood listlessly, helplessly, and let them do it.

They were still standing there some time later, when the troops came to lead them off in restraints, and the medics came to treat the injured and name-tag the dead. There were a lot of dead. A surprisingly large number were Paragons. The beloved heroes of the Empire now lay still and silent on the bloody ground, wrapped in the tatters of their proud purple cloaks.

 

Parliament and the King watched in silence as the crowd stood placidly, their eyes as blank and uncomplaining as the beasts of the field. Peacekeepers took away certain individuals that the media coverage had revealed as instigating or orchestrating the troubles. Sometimes the peacekeepers hit or beat these people, or pushed them violently to the ground and kicked them, and they took it silently, unable to complain or protect themselves. There was still a lot of anger in the air, from those who had survived the madness of the mob. Most of the crowd would go to improvised prison compounds the military were hastily putting together on the outskirts of the city. There would be time for courts and laws and rights later.

Most would probably just be released with a warning. Clogging up the Courts to no great effect wouldn’t serve anyone. And besides, the Church and the Neumen had proved themselves a powerful force. It wouldn’t do to antagonize them unneccessarily. None of the MPs said that out loud. They didn’t have to. They just sat and watched in silence as the crowd was silently dismantled and led away. Up above them, hanging on the sky like they were nailed there, the espers broadcast tranquillity, the influence of their powerful minds holding the crowd effortlessly in their grasp. Some of them were smiling. They didn’t look like angels anymore. If anything, they looked like birds of prey waiting for some slow and stupid animal to die.

“Espers controlling human minds,” Michel du Bois said finally, his voice full of a cold, tired bitterness. “Putting their thoughts into other people’s minds. Taking away their free will, making slaves of them. Does this perhaps remind your majesty of anything? Of what the ELFs did in the Arenas, only a few weeks ago?”

“The ELFs were responsible for acts of terrorism and murder,” said King Douglas, still looking at the viewscreen. “The oversoul was responsible for stopping acts of terrorism and murder.”

“That’s not how the people in the street will see it,” said Meerah Puri. “Some things are just wrong, no matter who does it, or why.”

“Then the hell with them, and the hell with you,” said Douglas, rising sharply to his feet. “I’d do it again in a moment. They were killing my Paragons. My colleagues and my friends. And my Champion . . . may be dead too. I should have been there at his side. You want my Crown, honored Members? You can have it.” He took the Crown off and put it on the Throne. “I did what was necessary. I’ve always been able to do what was necessary. That’s what a Paragon does. I’m going to see what’s happened to my friend Lewis. You can send someone later to tell me if I’m still King. Maybe I’ll care, later.”

“You can’t leave,” said Tel Markham. “This House is still in Session. We haven’t dismissed you yet.”

Douglas looked at Markham, and the MP flinched despite himself and looked away. Douglas looked around the House, and everywhere people were unable to meet his dark and dangerous gaze. He smiled briefly. “God damn you all to hell,” he said quietly. “All of you together aren’t worth one of the Paragons who fell defending you. What has the Empire become, what have we become, that such a price was necessary? There’s a madness in the streets, a sickness in the soul, and I fear it has infected us. Make your compromise deals with the Church and the Neumen. Protect yourselves. I can’t stop you. But I don’t have to watch you do it. I still have my pride.”

He turned his back on them, and walked out of the House, ignoring the uproar of voices that broke out behind him. Outside, Anne was waiting for him.

“Any news of Lewis?” said Douglas.

“He’s been brought in,” said Anne. “They’ve got him in the infirmary.” Douglas set off down the corridor, and Anne padded along beside him. “They’ve got him in a regeneration tank. Douglas . . . the odds aren’t good. He took a disrupter bolt at point-blank range.”

“But he is still alive?”

“Yes. For the moment, he’s still alive.”

“I should never have let him go out there alone, Anne. I shouldn’t have let you stop me going with him.”

“If you’d gone, you’d be lying in a regen tank beside Lewis. If we were lucky.”

“I let him down,” said Douglas. “He was always there for me, and I let him down.”

“You did the right thing, Douglas.”

“What’s that got to do with anything? Our friend is dying.”

“I know. I know.”

They strode down the corridor together, and people saw their faces and hurried to get out of their way.

 

Lewis was as surprised as anyone when the lid of the regeneration tank rose up, and he was still alive. He was even more surprised to discover that the reptiloid Saturday was gone, and there waiting for him in that cold and empty room was an utterly distraught Jesamine Flowers. She was crying, great shuddering sobs that shook her whole body as tears streamed down her cheeks. She saw him trying to sit up in the tank, and hurried forward to help him out of it. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else, and he sat down suddenly beside the tank, feeling at his side where the ragged hole had been. And Jesamine threw her arms around him, and buried her face in his shoulder. They sat together, holding each other tightly.

“Oh God, I thought I’d lost you,” Jesamine said finally, her face still pressed against his shoulder. “I saw them shoot you, and it was as though someone had shot me too. I couldn’t breathe. When they told me the alien was bringing you in, I came straight here. I couldn’t believe the state you were in. There was a hole in your side the size of my fist. You were barely breathing. I was so sure I was going to lose you.”

“The regen tank does good work,” said Lewis, his face buried in her golden hair. It smelled good. It smelled like life, and happiness. “But even so, I hate to think how close it must have been. Even regeneration tanks can’t work miracles. But I couldn’t die, Jes. I couldn’t die, and leave you behind. Not after I’d finally found you. Found the only woman I ever loved.”

They pulled back a little, so they could look one another in the face. Jesamine’s face was almost ugly, blotched with color, her eyes puffy from crying so hard. Lewis’s face seemed somehow harsher, even with the blood and brains cleaned away, as though his brush with death had knocked all the easiness out of it. They were holding each other’s hands, so tightly their knuckles were white.

“You mean that?” said Jesamine. “You love me?”

“With all my heart, Jes. It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong, I know it can’t go anywhere. But I don’t care.”

“I don’t care either,” said Jesamine. “I love you, Lewis. So many men have passed through my life, but you’re the only one I ever cried over. The only one who ever mattered to me.”

“You’re everything I ever wanted, Jes. Everything I thought love would be. Typical Deathstalker luck. To love the one woman I can’t ever have.”

“Can’t? Lewis . . .”

“No, Jesamine. Listen to me. One of us has to be strong. Strong enough to do the right thing. You’re going to marry my best friend. It’s all arranged. All of Humanity wants this marriage. Douglas wants it, and I’d rather die than hurt him. You’re going to be his Queen. The Empire needs you.”

“I need you, Lewis! Doesn’t that matter? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“It means everything,” said Lewis. “But we can’t let it matter. I’ll leave. Go away. Marry Douglas and be happy, Jesamine.”

“Lewis . . . I can’t . . .”

“You must. I could not love thee half so much, loved I not honor more,” said Lewis Deathstalker. “I can’t, I won’t, betray my friend, my King.”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair!”

“No it isn’t. Let me go, Jes. Let me leave, while I still have the strength to do it.”

“Where will you go? What will you do?”

“I don’t know. Oh God, I don’t know anything anymore.”

They moved forward into each other’s arms again, murmured their love for a while, and finally, tenderly, kissed each other good-bye. And that was how Douglas and Anne found them.

For a long while the two of them just stood there, watching, silent, and then Douglas said Jesamine’s name. His voice seemed very loud in the quiet of the deserted infirmary. Lewis immediately let go of Jesamine, and looked around sharply. Jesamine held on a moment longer, her eyes closed, as though she could deny what was happening, but then her innate inner discipline reestablished itself, and she let go. She’d always been able to be strong when she had to be. She looked around, unhurriedly, her face calm and composed, though there was no hiding her puffy eyes or the damage to her makeup. Lewis rose to his feet, just a little unsteadily. He took a step towards Douglas, and then stopped, held where he was by what he saw in his friend’s face. Jesamine looked accusingly at Anne, but she shook her head slightly. She hadn’t told Douglas what she’d seen earlier.

“Lewis,” Douglas said, and his voice was so flat, so empty, it was like a slap in the face. “What have you done, Lewis? I sent you out to stop a riot, not get involved in one. What did you think you were doing? How many people did you kill out there? Do you even know? I made you my Champion; it’s important that you’re seen to be impartial at all times. You can’t get involved in political struggles. Once it was clear they weren’t going to listen to you, you should have withdrawn. Not drawn your weapons against civilians. You looked like a butcher. My butcher.”

“Those civilians were killing Paragons,” said Lewis, meeting Douglas’s gaze steadily. “They would have killed me. They did their best.”

“You made a bad situation worse,” said Douglas. “I had to call on the oversoul, to shut the riot down. God knows what the espers will want in return, for that service. All because you failed me, Lewis.”

“What was I supposed to do? They’d gone crazy, all of them! I can’t work a miracle every time!”

“Then what use are you to me?” Douglas said coldly. “I need to be able to rely on you, Lewis.”

“You can! You know you can, Douglas. You know . . . I’ll do the right thing.”

“I don’t know anything anymore! I was ready to give up my Crown for you, Lewis, and then I come here, and I find you . . .” Douglas looked at Jesamine for the first time. “How can I do what I’m supposed to do, when I can’t trust anyone anymore?”