GABRIEL (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 4) (41 page)

But he knew she was still holding certain thoughts back from him. Was it simply that he sensed her continued intention to alter history regardless of everything he'd said or was it more? Did she still harbor an underlying resentment for having her romantic dreams destroyed?

He couldn't change the fact that they were joined in such an unusual manner, and he would never allow her to interfere with history, so there didn't seem to be any way to convince her to open herself to him as fully as he wanted her to.

Until she did that, he couldn't shed the gnawing fear that she would one day leave him and he would be forced to return to his silent, lonely world again.

The rising sun was accompanied by the rattle of chains as the slaves were roused. Gabriel was very relieved to discover that the chains were unlocked so they could move about somewhat freely. He discarded the serving robe and rewrapped the material of his tunic around his hips in the same manner as the other slaves. His paralyzer rod and Beauty were neatly concealed, yet accessible.

Breakfast was a bowlful of gray, tasteless mush and a cup of water but his empty stomach and parched throat were grateful nonetheless.

The ache in his head was impossible to ignore, though the painful stiffness in his muscles distracted him a bit. He hoped Shara stayed asleep until he got control of the pain on his own.

A loud crack sounded behind him, and Gabriel turned to see a soldier holding a long whip. All the men around him instantly hurried toward the monument. The second it took Gabriel to comprehend cost him. Before he could start after the others, the soldier cracked the whip again, only this time it landed across Gabriel's back.

Shara awoke with a jerk. The burning pain across her shoulders brought tears to her eyes.
Gabriel?

Gabriel blocked his pain from her and assured her he was fine as the soldier ordered him to stop.

"You are new here, are you not?" he asked Gabriel.

"Yes. I was just reassigned," he replied, humbly bowing his head.

"The first crack of the whip orders you to get to work. Quickly. If it is necessary to strike you again, I will not be so gentle. You appear to be strong. Go over there and help place the blocks."

Gabriel followed his direction and was put to work with a crew of men. Their task began by tying four long ropes around a large block of marble. With twenty men pulling each rope, they hauled the block up the side of the pyramid on a ramp, the center of which was constructed of logs that rolled in place. The trick was for the men to balance themselves on the stationary sides of the ramp. Gabriel was given a pair of sandals with metal studs on the soles and shown how to use them to secure a foothold on the steep slant.

Once they started up the ramp, no one man could afford to relax, let alone slip, without endangering everyone else, and the higher they climbed, the more precarious the trip became. Gabriel was afraid to use his levitation power with so many people involved, so he pulled his weight along with all the others. By the time they reached the top and pushed the block into place, Gabriel's muscles were vibrating from overexertion. They were given a short spell to catch their breath before going back down again.

From that higher vantage point, he could see the royal citadel in the distance and he discreetly withdrew Beauty to get a recording to the entire area. It may only have been a kilometer away but it was all open space from the monument to the royal city, with a small army of soldiers in between.

Escape was not going to be easy.

The crew was cautiously descending the ramp when a rumbling sound warned of approaching danger. The ground quaked and the entire monument trembled. The men on the ramp crouched down and hung on to the sides as the tremor ran its course.

Suddenly one man lost his grip and tumbled off the edge. His screams pierced the rolling thunder as his body plummeted to the ground. When all vibration ceased, a soldier ordered that the slave's broken body be dumped into the new crevice that had opened in the ground not far from the base of the monument.

* * *

Shara had seen enough. Gabriel had to get away from there this second! She was about to order him to do so when Odette knelt down beside her and captured her attention. At the same time, she felt Gabriel preventing her from seeing any more of what was going on at the monument.

"You are to come with me," the girl said. "Hurry."

Be careful,
Gabriel thought, reassuring her that he was not blocking her out of his mind completely.

You just get yourself back here,
she retorted.
I'll be fine.

Odette led Shara up endless flights of stone stairs and down a corridor to a richly appointed room. Seated on colorful pillows on the floor and lying on plush divans were a dozen noblewomen. Odette bowed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

A petite, gray-haired woman sitting in the only chair in the room snapped her fingers at Shara. "Has no one trained you? Bow to your betters!"

Shara imitated the low bow she had seen Ester and Jarad perform.

"You may lift your head but do not rise. You are much too tall for a woman and I never look up at a slave."

"Are you really a witch?" an adolescent girl with heavy kohl around her eyes asked.

"Hush, Mirabel," scolded the elder. "I will determine the truth." To Shara she said, "Our menfolk could not pleasure their spouses last night because of a witch's spell. Was that your doing?"

Shara tried to choose the answer that would get her in the least trouble. "My spell will increase their desire for their spouses a hundredfold but in order for it to work, the men must avoid all sexual activity for a time."

The spokeswoman pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. She was clearly unconvinced.

"Perhaps there is something I could do for you," Shara offered.

The woman glanced at the others in her group then said, "We are bored this morning. Tell us our fortunes."

Shara had the distinct feeling that this one woman could do her more harm than all the men she'd met last night, but it also seemed as though another key had just been handed to her. "I will need a hair from your head and the name of any ancestor of yours that arrived on Atlantis with Poseidon."

Most of the women appeared excited by the prospect of having their fortunes told but the eldest continued to look skeptical, even as she handed Shara a hair and said, "Penelope."

Shara had already checked off that name but she knew she had to be convincing to this woman to get samples from the others.

"I must communicate with the spirits in private for a moment," Shara said. "May I go behind that screen?" Given permission, she slipped behind the divider in the corner of the room and quickly ran a test on the hair as a double-check. No matches.

Since Gabriel was first to construct a partial wall between them, she didn't feel all that guilty when she did the same thing to keep him from seeing exactly what she was doing. He had enough problems where he was without fearing for her safety as well.

She came out and knelt at the older woman's feet. "The spirits told me of your great wisdom. They know you have not always been treated with the respect you deserve but they asked me to tell you to be patient awhile longer. What you deserve will be given to you before the next royal gathering."

The woman was delighted and encouraged the rest of the noble ladies to cooperate. Shara stepped behind the screen each time she got another hair, tested it, then made up a vague fortune for each, based on their appearance and demeanor. One was told of a secret admirer, while another was warned of an accident to one of her limbs that could be avoided by taking care when she climbed stairs.

In the end, they were all satisfied but Shara. She had eliminated three more names from her list, yet still had no match for Khameira or herself. The worst of it was that there were only four names of exiles left on Misha's list, but thirteen rebels' names remained on the original list recorded in the history texts. Added to that was the fact that most of the people on Atlantis did not survive to continue their line.

She had no choice but to face the strong probability that she had missed some Friends at Zeus's commune. With the way her luck had gone on this mission thus far, if she had an ancestor among the rebels, it had to be one of the people she'd failed to test. On the other hand, considering the evil strain that ran through Poseidon's descendants on Atlantis, it seemed quite likely that Khameira was located somewhere farther down on his family tree.

When the women dismissed her, she returned to the slave quarters to let Rebekah know she was still around. From there she headed for the cookery in hopes of being assigned to meal service.

In spite of the law against touching the nobility, she was determined to get a hair from as many of them as possible before she and Gabriel left Atlantis behind.

Chapter 22

Gabriel could sense that Shara was doing something she shouldn't, but it was taking all his concentration and energy to perform the task assigned him. The ache in his head and the welt on his back were now minor irritations compared to the rest of his body. The palms of his hands had gone from blistering to bleeding and his muscles and joints had been strained to the point where the pain was nauseating.

And it was only midday.

He needed to save himself. He had to get back to the temple and find out what Shara was up to. So far however, no opportunity for escape had presented itself.

The eighty-man crew had another block of marble almost to the top of the ramp when something went wrong. It happened too fast to place blame, but suddenly the huge stone toppled over the edge, taking four men down with it. One was crushed beneath the block. The other three lay bent and broken around it.

Several soldiers marched over to the ramp and shouted for the rest of the men to descend. Other slaves were ordered to dispose of the bodies while the soldiers used their spears to prod the crew into one long line.

They were to be whipped for their clumsiness.

Gabriel tried to think of a way to prevent the beating without calling attention to himself, but neither his paralyzer rod nor his new powers were adequate against such a large force of soldiers. All he could do was try to block the pain as the whip cracked over his back five times, then moved on to the next man.

The salt of his perspiration mingled with his blood to set his torn flesh on fire. He almost reached out to Shara, but he knew there was nothing she could do but worry for him, so he held back his need of her.

By the time every slave had received his five lashes, at least twenty of them had collapsed. Gabriel was tempted to give in to the pain and exhaustion as well, until he saw that the fallen slaves were being dragged over to the bottomless crevice in the ground. If they could not stand on their own, they were tossed in with the dead.

The soldiers were demanding that the crew begin again with the fallen block. It would have to be in place before they would be given any nourishment, water or rest.

A momentary reprieve was granted them as a horse-drawn chariot raced up to the monument. A soldier held the reins, but next to him stood a man in a purple robe. The noble scanned the swarm of laborers as his driver spoke to another soldier. That soldier nodded and pointed at Gabriel.

Gabriel didn't care why he was wanted. Whatever the nobleman had planned couldn't be much worse than another trip up the side of the pyramid. On the positive side, one soldier was a far easier obstacle to eliminate than an entire army. He kept his head bowed as he let himself be pushed on to the chariot.

Having been at the top of the pyramid, Gabriel knew the departing chariot and its passengers could be seen the entire way back to the city. Thus, any aggressive action on his part could bring the army down on him. At any rate, he desperately needed time to regain a little strength before attempting an escape.

The chariot sped away as quickly as it had arrived, stirring up a dust storm that briefly shielded it from any onlookers.

"Here,
Friend,
drink this," the nobleman said in a loud voice and extracted a covered crock from inside his robe.

Gabriel was gripping the side of the conveyance with both hands to keep from falling but the offer of a drink was incentive enough to risk letting go. As soon as he removed the lid, he recognized the smell and color of the cider he had helped carry the evening before. Drugged or not, the fluid would help his body recover. It took great effort not to gulp the entire contents in one swallow.