Keir (28 page)

“Probably. I can’t be certain, I’ve never been anywhere except the palace.” She scooped up a handful of pinkish sand and ran it through her fingers in contemplation. “I know the planet is mostly covered in chains of small, tropical islands. I think our kidnappers would have found it difficult to move us off world undetected, though it’s not impossible.”

“We should look inland, see if they have provided us with anything else,” he suggested, anxious to be on the move.

Her assent came as a halfhearted murmur and he helped her to her feet. She was very unsteady and, with a degree of reluctance, Keir put his arm around her for support. Dressed only in her thin nightclothes, the warmth of her skin beneath scorched him.

“Keir, you’re trembling.” She placed one hand over his.

“I am all right,” he assured her, silently cursing his tremors.

Being in such close contact with Quin seemed an unbearable torture. There could be no doubt that she needed him–Quin appeared to have lost all sense of balance, walking as though drunk–but having to hold her so tightly to prevent her from falling only made him more aware of the heat of her skin, the softness of her body pressed into his. A warm, floral scent filled his nostrils. He flinched as she slid her arm around his waist in return. It felt verging on the sacrilegious to be touching her when she was in such a vulnerable state.

He focused on their feet as a distraction, ensuring that Quin would not stumble. They followed the line of trees, not like those he had known on Salusan, or even Lyagnius, but with ridged stems and long, blade-shaped leaves sprouting along their length like oversized bamboo. Keir spotted what appeared to be a path through the giant grasses. Someone had even gone to the trouble of lining the narrow route with thin wooden handrails tied to the neighboring trees, a sure sign that the island had not been a random choice.

The trail twisted and turned through the thick vegetation, taking them deeper into the shade until it reached a secluded clearing. Ahead of them emerged a basic, though well-built, hut, raised from the ground on sturdy timber legs, with rough stone steps leading up to a sheltered veranda. Dry leaves covered the peaked roof.

The front door stood open, a silent invitation that only increased their wariness. Inside, a narrow room had been set up as a simple kitchen with a table and two chairs. Two large, plastic tubs yielded rice and some type of grain neither found familiar. Cupboards lined the walls, stocked with utensils, packets of basic rations, fishing equipment and long, sharp knives. Set into one stone surface beneath a window were two gleaming black discs that Quin identified as heat sources, although she had no idea what powered them. She laughed as she pulled out a small, flat device with a screen from one of the cupboards.

After a moment or two playing with it, she demonstrated its workings to Keir. “It’s a field guide of edible and poisonous plants and animals. It would seem our hosts intend to keep us well fed and healthy, at least.”

“There is a medical kit as well,” Keir told her, dragging out a green box from beneath the table and rummaging through it. “This looks like Surei’s scanner.” He activated it by brushing his fingers over the dark, polished surface and found it as straightforward to use as those from Lyagnius. “It suggests they plan for us to be here for some time.”

Quin sat at the table, chin resting on one hand, the field guide before her. Thoughtfully, she trailed idle fingers across the screen, blurring the tiny images. “Why, though? What will it achieve? J’dahzi wanted us to leave as soon as possible, but whoever did this wants the opposite. It worries me.”

Keir met her gaze solemnly as she stared down at him, sharing her concerns. “They want something from you.”

“Then why not just ask? If only I could have spoken more to T’rill.”

“Come on.” He gestured to the inner door standing to one side of the kitchen. “We have not yet seen everything here.”

The door led to a bedroom–a small space made light and airy by a window in each of the remaining walls. A large bed adorned with soft blankets and pillows stood on raised legs, a wooden frame draping it on every side with insect netting. A sizable chest at the end held spare clothing of various sizes, and Quin sorted through them eagerly before choosing a pair of loose black leggings and a pale-blue tunic.

Without warning, she stripped off the lace robe and flimsy slip. Keir inadvertently caught site of her bare stomach and a wide scar even as he turned away.

Oh Gods.

He closed his eyes, but the image of her half-naked body lodged itself firmly in his mind and would not be dismissed. Her stomach was taut and smooth. The skin looked soft as velvet. For an instant he imagined his fingertips stroking over her skin, how it might feel, how she might react. Heat rushed over his skin, a mixture of embarrassment and longing.

No, do not think of it!

He clamped down hard on his thoughts, strove to bury them where she would not hear them.

She cannot know.

His heart raced uncontrollably. He ran his hands roughly through his hair, tugging until it hurt and focusing on the pain.

She cannot know what I was thinking.

“What’s wrong?” Quin asked, apparently reading his distress but not the reason for it.

He said nothing, staring at the bed.

“I don’t snore or fidget,” she promised, her tone light and teasing. “Not that I’ve been told, anyway.”

“I will find somewhere else to sleep,” he said, hurriedly. “I am used to sleeping rough.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s safer if we both stay in here at night. If I’m not worried, why should you be?”

Keir glanced at her, as shocked by her blasé attitude to sleeping together as by the prospect of doing so.

“Is the idea of sharing a bed with me so appalling?”

For a moment the implication left him speechless. “No! That is…” Panic filled him at the thought of being compelled to share such an intimate space with her, but he could not refuse without being forced into an explanation. He raised his hands in a gesture of solemn assurance, as if making a pledge to her. “I swear I will not touch you.” He could not bring himself to meet her gaze.

“I promise the same,” she said quietly, as if hoping to ease his discomfort. She took a step toward him and froze as he flinched at her movement. “The only thing we’re missing,” she continued as if his reaction had gone unnoticed, “is water. Those bottles on the beach will only last the day. I’m sure they’ll have considered that too.”

* * * *

Alone in her private audience chamber, T’rill huddled in her nest of cushions like a frightened child, finding no pleasure or comfort in the sunlight’s warm embrace or the softness of her bower. Ragged dreams had haunted her every night since she’d seen the Emissary’s vision. Sometimes they were of her world turning to dust around her, and sometimes she watched her palace disintegrate with her children trapped inside. Sometimes it was Quin whose destructive powers turned everything she loved to scattered particles, but in others, it was the Emissary, his mask removed to reveal nothing but shadows beneath.

Her loyalty to Quin oscillated wildly. In her heart, she still refused to believe that her friend could cause such ruin, that she would ever do such a thing to Metraxi. Yet Quin herself had admitted to the crime, had told her tales of worlds perishing and the death of friends. She no longer knew what to believe–her fear and exhaustion blinded her. Perhaps the Emissary had planted something dark and frightening within her, poisoning her body and soul. She felt her power to rule slipping away from her a little more each day and it terrified her.

Her brooding was interrupted by the sudden entrance of a young saurian soldier, who threw himself on the floor, shaking violently as he tried to catch his breath. His pale-green scales seemed to glow beneath his scarlet and gold uniform. “My queen…!” he gasped.

“T’reno,” she greeted him softly, recognizing the voice of a man that she, as a young girl, had once wanted to kiss. “What is wrong?”

He raised his head, the green eyes blurred by tears. Startled by his tortured expression, she leaned forward attentively, anxiety knotting in her chest.

“My father…” he began, his voice raw with grief. “Your Highness, my father is dead!”

Shock slammed into her chest so hard it crushed the breath from her. “J’dahzi?” she whispered, rising from her cushioned bower. T’reno remained crouched before her, quivering with each ragged breath he drew. Tears filled her own eyes as she placed a compassionate hand on his shoulder, sorrow overwhelming her. She struggled to speak, every word caught in her throat. “How?” she managed at last.

“He was murdered!” Fury displacing his sadness, T’reno raised his head, face twisted in anger. “They found a Langer beetle by his body. It could only have been brought in by someone deliberately. Someone killed him.”

T’rill retreated in horror, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. “A Langer beetle?” She swallowed hard, a shiver coursing through her as she willed it to be a mistake. “Are you sure? I thought… I was told they were extinct, more than twenty years ago!”

“Eradicated on the mainland, Your Highness.” T’reno growled. “But sometimes we hear rumors of them being found on the remote islands. Someone determined could find one if they wished. It’s a method of assassination that cannot be traced!”

“I am so very sorry, T’reno,” she murmured. “Your father was a good man, a loyal one, with no guile in him and undeserving of such a fate.” She shook herself. “We must discover who is responsible. You have my permission to proceed in any way necessary to bring the murderer to justice. Your father deserves that, at least.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he said, voice still harsh with grief. “But there is more. Tarquin Secker and her companion are missing.”

“They left?” Confusion and hurt whirled in her mind. Hadn’t Quin promised to stay? And to leave at this time, without a word, was an insult T’rill would not have tolerated from anyone else. Had Quin sensed danger and run?

“I don’t believe so, Your Highness. There are no signs of a struggle, but their possessions are still in their rooms and no one saw them leave. I believe they have been taken.”

T’rill bit back the scream of rage that threatened, furious that two such heinous incidents could happen within her palace, to those under her protection. She glared down at the officer and into eyes that surely reflected her own outrage.

“Then you will find Quin and track down whoever killed J’dahzi!” she ordered. “I will not allow such things to happen here!”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed his head and left as swiftly as he had come, his expression fierce.

T’rill sank back into her cushions, head in her hands. This was her fault. She should never have summoned Quin back to Metraxi.

* * * *

Above the planet of Metraxi, the Emissary’s ship hung in geostationary orbit without any sign of life, as black and silent as it had been since the moment of its arrival. In the chamber of shadows, the Emissary sat alone, his masked head bowed.

A faint whispering sound overlaid the ship’s usual discordant hum, as if many voices spoke softly in unison. He sat in the posture of a supplicant, begging mercy for respite from the unrelenting chorus. Their presence never left him, filling his head, his entire being, giving him no peace or rest. He shivered as they slunk into every thought, dominating every moment of his existence. Sleep, true sleep, was a distant memory he yearned for.

His hands clenched into tight fists. Would this never end? Would he never be free?

His sorrowful meditation was disrupted by the sudden melodic chimes of the crystal in his hand. The persistent voices swiftly dwindled into the background hum of the vessel. The Emissary’s head rose. He lifted his hand and opened his fingers, exposing the singing crystal.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Tarquin Secker is missing.” R’hellek’s voice was unmistakable even distorted by the crystal and a hint of suspicion. “Do you have her?”

The Emissary jerked to his feet as if yanked up by hidden strings. “No,” he responded, sudden urgency searing through his lethargy. “I do not.”

“Someone removed her from the palace during the night,” the Minister continued. “I thought it might have been you.”

“No. It would seem other agencies are involved.”

“I have a suspicion it was arranged by J’dahzi. I should have removed him earlier.” There was a deep regret in his words. “I will keep a close eye on his son. He may lead me to her.”

“If he was involved in her disappearance, the last thing he will do is betray her location.” The whispering arose from the shadows again and the Emissary tilted his head to listen. “I will approach the queen again. She has opened herself to me. I can use that.”

“How?”

“The queen allows fear to rule her heart. Fear gives me the power to rule her mind. She will help me find Quin.”

The certainty he felt gave him some satisfaction, but not enough to compensate for the frustration. He had waited too long for T’rill’s aid and now Quin seemed to have evaded them yet again.

“And if that fails?” the Minister asked, his apprehension evident.

“There are other ways.”

“Very well,” R’hellek agreed. “I’ll assist in the search myself, and post a watch over the gateway.”