Keir (23 page)

As he came closer, T’rill felt herself tensing. The figure emanated coldness like a shrouding arctic fog. R’hellek bowed and stepped aside, allowing the Emissary to come closer and kneel respectfully at her feet. T’rill controlled her desperate urge to recoil from the hooded figure and the disconcerting aura he radiated.

Instead, she leaned forward to receive him. “Welcome,” she said, her deep, dulcet tones as warm as she could make them. “You may stand.”

He did so, the implacable silver mask tilted toward her, the eyes nothing more than black holes within. “Your Highness,” he said, the hushed tones muffled and lifeless. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“R’hellek has vouched for you. I understand you seek an alliance with us.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I believe it would be mutually beneficial.”

T’rill sat back in her throne, regarding him thoughtfully. “What do you wish to trade?”

“I offer my protection. In return for one piece of information.”

“Metraxi does not require further protection. We are quite capable of defending ourselves.” She sat back and tapped her talons on the arm rests of her throne, considering her words. “Your offer could be interpreted as a threat.”

“That was not my intention. Consider it an addition to your own powerful defenses.”

“And what would your protection involve?”

“Allies are always useful, are they not? We also have some skill with defensive technology, shielding and the construction of mechanized defenders.”

Such treaties were not uncommon, and in general the simple announcement of any alliance could often settle disputes elsewhere. Who would risk antagonizing a single galactic neighbor, only to find entire systems united against you?

“And the information you require?”

The Emissary took a small step forward, intruding on her personal space in a way she found disturbing. “I believe we have a mutual…friend.”

T’rill didn’t miss the fractional pause before the last word, as if the Emissary had been uncertain of his choice of phrase. “Who?”

“Tarquin Secker.”

A profound sense of dread swamped her at the mention of the name. Quin had warned her once that someone or something may well come seeking her under the guise of friendship, possibly even under the threat of aggression. She instantly regretted her impulsive use of the call device. J’dahzi had been quite right to advise against it. Glancing at the courtier in question, she caught his discreet nod of recognition and a gesture of warning. A fleeting buzz of irritation stung her. She may have made a mistake by inviting Quin to Metraxi, but she was wise enough to counter it with common sense now without J’dahzi’s silent admonishment. “Quin has not been here for many years. She is well known for her wandering.”

For the first time, there was a sliver of emotion in the voice, a semblance of truth and deep-seated longing. “I know her well enough for that. We traveled together for a time, but were forced to go our separate ways. I have missed her.”

Coldness soaked into her from the Emissary and crept into her body, into her thoughts, coiling around her. She closed her eyes as a deep chasm opened within her, sharp with pain. Longing. His longing, vast and eternal. A need that went far beyond her own simple wish to see an old friend. The agony and fury of his loss when she’d left him.

And yet, in the midst of his pain, there was warmth. Desire. A need greater than any. It soothed away her fears and suspicions.
“You…loved her?”

For a moment, the heat of that one emotion rose above the others.
“Yes. And now I need her.”

She shivered and tried to shake herself free. Free? Did he bespell her?

Quin had warned her; someone would come seeking her and that T’rill should be wary…

Even as the thought rose, it broke and wafted away, borne on the tide of his desperate need.

“But what danger could I be?”
his voice hummed, his tones synchronized to the beat of her heart.
“I’m alone. Surely you could ask her?”

“Yes, I could ask her.”
The thought seemed twisted, unnatural, but she couldn’t fault her logic. Quin would be on Metraxi in a few days.

With her mind made up, the chill eased away from her, loosening its hold, and she sighed under the touch of the last vagrant strands of longing. “Perhaps a meeting can be arranged,” she offered. “Would you be prepared to wait, to allow me to act as intermediary?”

He bowed, a stately gesture. “I will wait in the hope of your success.”

1.       
   Chapter 10
   

Alone in the gardens of Lyagnius, Keir knelt by his mother’s grave, though his eyes were fixed on the distant horizon. Sky and Mercury had helped him lay her to rest a week ago in a quiet part of the formal gardens overlooking the pond and its decorative waterfall. All his anger and sorrow seemed to have been buried with her, leaving him strangely empty and more uncertain of his future than ever. The pain of her loss was an unceasing ache within him, adding to the increasing sense of isolation that had plagued him since the events on Salusan.

With the abrupt awakening of his powers and the terrible use he had made of them, his burden of guilt had magnified tenfold, crushing the remaining fragments of his spirit into lifeless dust. Even though his strange talent had retreated back into an unreachable, dormant state, he could still sense the destructive potential within himself, only awaiting another trigger to spark it into furious release.

Everyone–apart from Quin–seemed to be avoiding him, and even she, the one constant in his new life, had been abnormally distant and watchful. Surei had discharged him from the medical center with barely a word, and Taler had been absent. He had become as much an outcast here as he had ever been in Adalucien. It made it all the more painful because things had been so different at the beginning.

Even in the midst of his torment, he could not blame them. Lost in a mindless rage at his mother’s death, he had given them good reason to fear him and resent his presence on their world.

Keir lifted himself to his feet and stood, the strong wind tugging at the long, gray military-style jacket he wore against the chill air, the large collar turned up around his neck to keep out the cold. Winter had come swiftly to Lyagnius, and the gloomy skies and fading colors of the landscape reflected his own dismal brooding. His hopes of a better life had fallen as quickly and surely as the last golden leaves of autumn. He thrust his hands into his pockets for warmth, morosely considering his options and wishing himself elsewhere.

As he continued to stare into the distance, he heard someone approaching behind him. Certain of her identity despite her silence, he waited for her to speak.

“Are you thinking of leaving us?” Quin asked, her voice echoing the unspoken sympathy emanating from her.

Did she really need to ask him such a question? “You would know if I was.”

“You’ve learned to shield yourself far too well for me to read your mind without permission. Besides, you’re entitled to some privacy, even from a telepath.”

“I have nothing to hide from you.” He lowered his mental defenses, allowing her to see the deepening pit of despair and pain within him, the maelstrom of negative emotions that had darkened his soul. “They are afraid of me now, are they not?”

Quin sighed then fell silent for a long moment as if considering the right words. “Everyone here has the potential to be dangerous, but we never use our abilities against one another like that,” she told him gently. “You lost control. That has made Surei nervous.”

“Just Surei?”

“Taler is embarrassed because she had to bite you to bring you down. It’s taboo in her culture, to use that against another sentient being.”

Keir put his hand to his neck where her fangs had pierced him, knowing the marks were already long gone.

“Sky and Mercury have no reason to be afraid,” Quin continued, “but they tend to immerse themselves in their projects and keep to themselves. They’re not avoiding you deliberately.”

“And you?” he asked, his voice tentative. He could not bring himself to turn and face her.

“It would take more than a fit of temper and a few bruises to upset me,” she assured him.

Some of the tension left him at her words, spoken with a sincerity she could not falsify with her mind open to his. The warmth of her companionship offered a small ray of hope to lighten his somber mood.

“Thank you.” Keir glanced over his shoulder long enough to see her smile. “But perhaps I should leave, Quin. I do not feel like I belong here now.”

“Well, you can’t keep yourself locked away in your room forever.”

“I am afraid of what I might be letting out,” he admitted quietly. He returned his gaze to the horizon, wondering what lay beyond it, whether there was somewhere else he could go.

“You could come with me,” she suggested.

“Where?”

“A planet called Metraxi. I have a personal invitation from the queen. For myself and a guest.”

“Would it be safe?”

“For whom?” she asked, clearly confused by the question.

He answered with a shrug.

“You can say no.”

“No, I will come. I do not want to stay here. If you are sure you want me with you.”

“Of course. You’d best get ready to go then.”

“What about you?”

He turned at last to look at her fully and his mouth fell open in shock. The wild red hair had been tamed into plaits and coils on top of her head and her face had been delicately made up. She was dressed in black, a high, pointed collar plunging to a low v at her chest, her arms bare to the shoulder and nails painted blue. Her skirt brushed the tendrils of grass beneath her feet and glittered with tiny blue gems and silver stitching, a belt of silver circles around her waist. In deference to the cold weather, she had thrown a cloak around herself and she clutched tightly at her shoulders to prevent the wind teasing it away.

She colored under the intensity of his gaze, shrugging with an attempt at nonchalance. “I think I’m ready to go.”

He continued to stare, his breath catching in his throat. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, although at that moment, he could not imagine her looking anything else.

She smiled broadly at the wholehearted sincerity of his words. “Thank you.”

* * * *

The queen’s private audience chamber perched at the top of the shell-like palace and much attention had been paid to its design. The titanium frame for this section was considerably more intricate and detailed than any other, and saurian artisans had perfected the construction with a sublime finesse. The curved pillars that formed much of the support lower in the building had been carved and embellished into fine filigree, inset with precious stones and metals. Light poured through a giant crystal set in the roof, dancing across the chamber as though shining through clear, tropical waters. Elegant balconies surrounding the chamber opened out to the blue sky beyond.

Although it was the smallest chamber in the palace, it was the most special, and T’rill loved it more than any other place on her world. Here was peace and beauty, her personal sanctuary and retreat. Only the very privileged were allowed access here, and only with her permission.

T’rill sat beneath the crystal on a pile of satin cushions, dressed in nothing more than her short white tunic, so that as much scaled skin as possible was exposed to the multicolored lights rippling through the ceiling. With her eyes closed and her face lifted to savor the heat of the sun as it warmed her blood, the golden tint of her skin shimmered brightly. She didn’t see the shadows gathering in one corner of her chamber, a growing patch of absolute blackness sullying the light and warmth.

Despite the sunlight, she felt the iciness emanating from the anomaly, and her turquoise eyes snapped open in alarm. She leaped to her feet with a gasp, retreating from the disturbing phenomenon as it solidified into something vaguely humanoid, before becoming a cloaked figure she recognized. She tried to run, to call for her personal guard waiting outside, but found herself unable to speak or move as the figure approached.

“I mean you no harm,” he said in his hollow voice, avoiding the light from the center of the room as if fearing the touch of it. “I must apologize for disturbing you here, Your Highness.”

T’rill felt the paralysis leave her enough to turn and face the Emissary, though she was still held in his thrall.

“You have broken all convention by coming here,” she snapped, insulted by his intrusion into her private domain and frightened by his strange powers. She drew herself to her full height, using her anger as a shield to hide her apprehension.

The Emissary seemed unperturbed, clasping his hands before him. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the matters I wish to discuss are urgent.”

“I am within my rights to bar you from my presence and my world!”

The Emissary bowed his head in acknowledgment. “It is within your rights, indeed. But is it within your capabilities?”

T’rill shivered. A being who could materialize within her palace in an instant could not be imprisoned by her forces, could surely travel wherever he pleased without impediment. Her fear intensified. “What do you want?” she asked, watching him closely. The movement was barely perceptible, yet she saw the slight tension in his posture, the urgent attentiveness.