Morgan's Choice (20 page)

“
I am
Hai Suri
Lakshmi Devag—”

“I know who you are.” The smile was gone.
“Out, all of you. Come on, move.” He stepped back, brandishing a
hand weapon.

Asbarthi pushed Lakshmi, a gentle shove just
with his fingers, as much to shut her up as anything. Bristling,
nostrils flared, she stepped out. Asbarthi followed and Morgan
followed him. The three stood in a line, facing the man and his
female companion. She’d drawn her weapon, too, an unpleasant smile
on her lips. Anger seared up Morgan’s backbone. She hated people
like this, gloating over their power, using their weapons to
frighten.

“ID cards,” the man demanded, thrusting his
chin toward Lakshmi.

She leant back, away from him. “You’ll hear
about this. My father won’t—.”

He grabbed her arm, swung her around and
shoved her over the vehicle’s body. “Save your mouth. I’ll find it
myself.”

For a moment Morgan thought Asbarthi would
intervene, but a snapped word and the ugly muzzle of the woman’s
weapon was enough to dissuade him. He watched in smoldering
impotence as the man frisked Lakshmi, his hands personal and
probing, grabbing at her breast and her groin before he finally
removed her wallet from her pocket and checked the ID card
inside.

When he stepped back, Lakshmi tried to
straighten. A harsh thrust between the shoulder blades jerked her
back to where she came from. “You can get up when I say so.”

High-handed bastard. He knew who Lakshmi was.
Why this charade? She’d had a passing thought of making contact
with these people, to see if she could escape. But not with these
animals.

“All right. Stand up.” He turned to Morgan,
leaving Lakshmi to stand upright. “ID.”

Keeping her eyes downcast, she fumbled in her
pocket, pulled out the card and handed it to him.

“Look at me.” A stinging blow to the side of
her head signaled she’d taken too long. Morgan longed to send a
kick into the bastard’s stomach, but she couldn’t beat a manesa in
a fight. Too quick, too strong, too flexible. Her heart thundering,
she squinted up into the fellow’s unblinking yellow eyes as if the
light hurt.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he
demanded.

“Nothing. I...”

“The girl is my niece,” Asbarthi said. “She’s
only just been released from hospital. She’s suffered from river
fever and we’ve come here so she can convalesce. The eyes thing is
an unusual side-effect of the medication.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. Thrusting the card
back at Morgan he took a step backwards. So did the woman.

“She shouldn’t be out in public at all,” the
woman said, eyes glittering.

“She wouldn’t have been, had you not stopped
us.” Asbarthi’s tone was apologetic, conciliatory. “We took her out
for a drive in the country. A treat, you understand.”

“Oh, yes.” The woman stared down her nose at
them, suspicious. “What about her? Or yourself? Not worried you’d
get it?”

“We have been immunized.” Asbarthi’s eyebrows
arched. “You have not?”

The man pushed him hard toward the
skimmer. “Go on, go. And keep
her
off
the streets.” He pointed a stiff finger at Morgan.

“Of course. And thank you.” Asbarthi took
Morgan’s elbow and led her to the vehicle. “Get back in, my dear.
We’ll get you home.”

Morgan swallowed her anger and complied,
stumbling a little to reinforce the concept of recent illness.
Lakshmi followed her, barely containing her fury. Asbarthi threw
her a stare as he sat down next to her. The door closed and the
skimmer rose.

“Arrogant, pestilential Mirka filth,” Lakshmi
raged. “Did you see what he did to me? Groped me. As if I was some
sort of… of whore.”

“
You see what we put up with,
Suri
?” Asbarthi
said. “The rudeness is of itself inexcusable. But there’s no point
complaining to the Governor. We will be told they’re just doing
their job.” He was matter-of-fact, his anger caged.

“I hate that.” Rage boiled in Morgan’s gut.
“I hate people who abuse power. They’re no different to you and me.
But they have weapons.” Her own venom surprised her.

The skimmer sank to the ground with a sigh of
exhaust gas. Morgan hadn’t even realized they were back at the
mansion. A servant leapt forward to open the doors.

“
If you’ll come this way,
Suri
,” Asbarthi
said, arm outstretched. “It’s time we had a private
chat.”

He led her to a paved patio where a table and
chairs stood under the cascading branches of a blossom-laden tree,
its scent heavy in the warm air. Water burbled into a lily pond,
cascading from the statue of a woman holding a jug.

Asbarthi pulled back a chair and sat down
beside her. “Will you help us? Help us to win our freedom?”

“What does that entail?”

“
As I said. You and
Sur
Jones will be the returned Orionar bringing our
vision of a free and happy people, able to rule themselves and live
in harmony.”

One thing about her silver eyes—he wouldn’t
be able to fathom what she might be thinking. At least it was
beginning to make sense. They wanted a figurehead, a mythical icon
to lead a crusade. Good grief. All she needed was a blazing sword
and a flying beast to ride.

“Just think about it.” Smiling, he spread his
hands. “All you have to do is speak. We’ll write the speeches. You
simply say the words.” He leaned over the table, voice
conspiratorially low. “Of course, you’ll have all the
accoutrements. Jewelry, beautiful clothes; as much wealth as you
can imagine. And you’ll ride through cheering crowds in an open
vehicle.”

“And that’s all I have to do? Just put on a
show?”

“That’s all.”

Riding through cheering crowds in an open
vehicle she could do without, but she’d always hated despotic
authority, the power of the admirals and the petty demagogues in
the Coalition. This Murag fellow fitted the bill. What did she
really know about this society and how it worked? Only what the
military had told her. Whatever else she might think about
Ravindra, he was a despot, an autocrat. Sure, these people would be
replacing a military autocracy with an aristocracy but that wasn’t
a bad thing. In time, the people could take control for themselves
if they wanted to. The
Yogina
could wait. For a little while.

She met Asbarthi’s gaze. “All right.”

Chapter
Twenty-Two

“Are you ready?” Asbarthi looked Jones and
Morgan up and down, examining them as he might pieces of art.

“Sure,” Morgan said. “I just stand there and
smile while Jones makes a speech.” Jones stood there grinning like
a vid star. He was enjoying this, no doubt.

“
Remember,
Suri
, it’s only to make the point. You don’t have to believe
it. We just make it convincing.”

She felt like a decoration for a shopping
mall, all tricked out in a white and gold gown, a tiara glittering
in her hair. They’d sent a couple of young women to dress her up,
under Indira’s careful supervision.

“I won’t be willing to play dress-ups for
long, Asbarthi. It’s not what I do. Just remember that,” she
said.

“
Understood. But it is important,
Suri
.
Appearances are vital at this point.” The lines in Asbarthi’s face
were rigid, reflecting his tension. Behind him Lakshmi leant, arms
folded, against the wall, a superior smirk on her face. She
swallowed her irritation. Just a first class bitch, the lovely
Lakshmi.

Morgan followed Jones, Asbarthi and
Lakshmi down the long, curved staircase down into the hall.
Hai Sur
Devagnam and his wife,
resplendently over-dressed, waited for them, faces up-turned.
Morgan walked slowly, conscious of the hem around her feet. It
wouldn’t do to trip and clatter down the staircase in a cascade of
expensive cloth.

“You look wonderful,” Devagnam said, his
teeth gleaming against his dark skin. Turning to his wife, he
added, “You did a magnificent job, my dear.”

Lakshmi rolled her eyes.

“
Come along, people.” Asbarthi extended an
arm to gather them all up. “We have a meeting to
attend.”

The skimmer drove up to the front porch.
Morgan sat with Indira and Jones on one side, while Lakshmi
squeezed between Asbarthi and her father.

No-one spoke. All Morgan knew was that
they were going to the home of somebody called Mellnar who was also
a
Bunyadan
. Which
meant, as Ravindra had told her, a rich Vesha merchant
prince.

The skimmer slipped out into the road and
headed off, easing quietly through the deserted village. Not even
the security people manned the silent streets but Morgan glimpsed
lights in windows. Then the town disappeared behind them. The
skimmer sped on through the darkness.

“When do you expect to introduce me?” Jones
asked

“Almost straight away. Professor Unwyn will
be there already. He will show the guests what we have found in the
mountains and then you will reinforce the vision,” Asbarthi
said.

The vehicle slowed. Morgan caught a brief
view of stone pillars and a tall metal gate. Tall trees, some
illuminated by uplights at their base, flanked both sides of the
drive before the roadway widened into a paved circular area in
front of a vast house. Somebody opened the door of the skimmer and
she slid out, gathering up her skirts as she did so.

The house was truly horrible. She’d seen a
lot of different architectural styles in her journeys through the
Coalition but this place looked like a mad architect’s
hallucination. She’d never seen so many towers, minarets, strange
and ugly statues and garish, useless ornamentation on anything.
Just to make sure no-one would miss a thing, it was all lit up with
different colored lights.

“It’s a reproduction of our Golden Age
architecture,” Asbarthi murmured in her ear. “Magnificent, isn’t
it?”

“If you say so,” Morgan said.

She walked up the wide staircase leading to
the front doors, aware of the many skimmers parked nearby and the
armed guards standing next to pillars. She’d guess you wouldn’t get
in without an invitation. A liveried servant bowed to Devagnam and
his wife. The same man greeted Asbarthi and waved him inside, his
eyes lingering on Jones, then Morgan as she passed him. Well, that
was to be expected.

The entrance hall was as ornate as the
outside of the house. Gold leaf reflected colored light. Voices
resonated from a room to one side. Morgan recognized Unwyn’s mellow
tones.

“This way.” Asbarthi led Morgan down a
corridor and into a small room. Through a doorway she heard a voice
she didn’t recognize.

“…proof positive that the Mirka are not the
only ones who can govern.”

Applause and shouts of agreement.

“And now, my friends, let me welcome our
colleague, Sitivan Asbarthi.”

More applause.

“Wait till I fetch you,” Asbarthi murmured as
he strode through the doorway.

A rustle of movement, then Asbarthi began
to speak, his voice ringing even in the antechamber. “My friends,
all of us here are
Bunyada
. We know
it to be true that our heritage does not give the Mirka a mandate
to dictate to us. Professor Unwyn has shown you his findings. But
we have more than that.” He paused, a structured delay. “We have
proof… proof that the Orionar stayed among us.”

A sigh went through the listeners like a
breeze in a desert. They hadn’t been expecting this.

“You’ve all heard the story. That the
round-eyed Orionar landed here on Krystor—as Professor Unwyn has
now proved. Now meet the Orionar.” He spun, arm outstretched, and
beckoned Jones and Morgan.

They stepped forward into a dining room.
Perhaps a dozen men and women sat around an oval dining table, many
nursing glasses of wine. A view screen showing the murals in the
villa hung on one wall. Professor Unwyn, seated near the head of
the table, caught her eye and smiled. All the others stared at her.
In an attentive silence, Asbarthi made a show of seating Jones and
Morgan in elaborate chairs that resembled thrones.

Asbarthi turned to his audience. “The
Mirka tried to hide them from us. They were found in a disabled
space craft, flung through space from who knows where. Ravindra hid
them on his battle cruiser. They tried to escape with
Hai Sur
Sayvu’s daughter, Indra, to
assist us in our struggle but their brave attempt failed.” He
stopped for a moment, deepened his voice. “Indra Sayvu was
executed, a martyr. She tried to bring the Orionar to us. But
Ravindra made his first mistake when he sent
Sur
Jones to Mahanadi. Our people were able to help
him escape and bring him to me. And then, at last, we were able to
rescue
Suri
Selwood.”

Morgan fixed the smile on her face. Rescue.
She wouldn’t have called it that.

Asbarthi spoke. “And here they both are.
Living, breathing Orionar.”

Somebody clapped. Another joined in, then
another until the sound became a torrent.

“Any questions?” Asbarthi asked.

“Why are her eyes different?” someone asked.
“She doesn’t have that white ring around her eyes.”

“It’s something that happens sometimes,”
Morgan said. “A rare variation. Most people have eyes like my… my
companion.”

“Where do you come from? Where is your home
planet?”

“We come from the other side of the Galaxy,”
Jones said. “The location is not visible on your charts.”