Silent Songs (46 page)

Their small sleeping quarters must've been originally designed as a storage area, K'heera thought, since it opened up onto the large room where the hatchery's Industrious had their meals. The workers were filing in now, still fastening their clothes, many still damp from their sleeping pools.

Some of the dullest shuffled over to her and she adjusted fastenings on their clothing that they'd attached crookedly. More highly skilled servants brought in meals. K'heera was grateful that the servants' food came from their ship.

Then she saw the collection of vegetables and fruits Arvis had brought her, and was surprised at his continuing concern for her well-being. He urged her to eat through simple signs, and in spite

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of her lack of appetite she obliged him. The humans had a name for this. Oh, yes,
the last meal.

The other Simiu were openly staring at K'heera's breakfast, so she asked Arvis to offer them some. If she offered it herself, they would have to refuse.

She could see their hunger as they gratefully took the food. She could see, too, their humiliation at having to eat at her largess, even though the gift didn't come directly from her. Well, that was their problem. If they were going to cling to stereotypes and an ancient honor code that had little relevance here, she wouldn't spend time worrying about it.

The fresh food was wonderful, and gave her an odd sense of calm. She asked Arvis where Bruce was, but he didn't know. The chances of her being able to tell Thunder the location--even if she was still out there--were remote.

Then, without warning, the doors to the dining area slid open, and soldiers rushed in. The Industrious dropped their meals and squatted in terror. The other Simiu backed into a corner, baffled. K'heera knew why the troops were there, and calmly remained beside Lene and Arvis, who seemed alarmed.

The soldiers forced the Industrious and the drum dancers against a back wall, as Lene moved behind Arvis for protection. The soldiers were not armed with punishing rods, but with small hand weapons K'heera had never seen before. She held her honor around her the way Bruce had held his and refused to show fear.

Everyone stopped moving when Dacris entered the room. The Industrious cowered as he loomed over them threateningly. Finally, he stood before Arvis, Lene, and K'heera.

Arvis' throat quivered, and K'heera wondered if the red-and- blue was asking for an explanation. Dacris responded, pointed to K'heera, then produced a container full of eggs. Their foul smell filled the room. Yet Dacris seemed calm, almost pleased. The green and gold Anuran signaled to some of the soldiers and they moved forward to take K'heera.

She was ready, but Arvis stepped in front of her, stopping the soldiers. They paused, hesitant to violate the wishes of the son of their leader. Lene tried to pull Arvis away from K'heera, but he resisted. He sang to the soldiers, to Dacris. It was hard for the Industrious to form complex thoughts, so she understood the effort this had to involve.

Dacris moved toward the servant, angry now, his own throat moving rapidly.

K'heera moved beside Arvis while he and Dacris argued. Dacris gestured at Arvis, then at Lene, probably accusing

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them of conspiring with K'heera. She shouldn't care about that, but she did.

Arvis might have treated her like a pet, but he'd been kind and

conscientious, giving her the same regard he wanted to be given himself.

She couldn't allow him to suffer.

K'heera moved in front of him, trying to get Dacris to see her, but when he did, he acted as if her bid for attention was an attack, and lashed out at her with a punishing rod. The Simiu screamed and fell, struggling to get away, but he shocked her again and again.

Dimly, she saw a surge of movement and suddenly the pain stopped. When she looked up, Arvis was between her and Dacris again--but something had changed between them.

She blinked, peered around. Arvis had knocked the weapon from Dacris'

hand. K'heera shook her head, trying to clear it. Arvis seemed different suddenly, bigger. There were spots on his upper arms she'd never noticed...

oh, yes, she had! She'd touched them by accident once, during her futile

"first contact." Those were his poison patches! They were swollen, a brilliant yellow color, and fluid dripped down his arms. Amazingly, Dacris was backing away from Arvis, eyeing the patches.

Arvis turned to her, helped her back to her feet, patting her gently. He stared into her eyes, as if trying to see the hurt there. Then he must've heard something, because his head snapped around. At the same moment, Dacris charged.

K'heera barely got out of the way as the green-and-gold tackled the One-Touch. They wrestled, and K'heera could see how disadvantaged Arvis was.

The soldier was plainly experienced, while Arvis had no idea what to do. His only advantage was his poison, but K'heera doubted if he even knew that.

Soldiers stared, while holding the Industrious at bay. Was this their Arena-of-Honor? How could there be any honor in battling such a mismatched opponent?

Lene circled the grappling figures, her throat rippling, and K'heera hoped she was shouting advice to Arvis. Soon it became more than the female could endure and she bolted from the room.

The figures twisted in each other's arms, and suddenly Arvis was in a position of power. K'heera barked encouragement but all the One-Touch did was hold his opponent. He could've poisoned the soldier, but hesitated too long. Arvis was simply too gentle to deliberately injure anyone. Then the moment was gone, and Dacris was on top again.

K'heera realized that the One-Touch was losing strength. Dacris was really hurting him. She surged forward, wanting to help him,

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but the soldiers threatened her with their weapons, pushing her back. Arvis quickly lost ground. Then the Troubadour executed a powerful hold and suddenly Arvis' head twisted in a direction it was never meant to go. Pain blossomed in his large, marbled eyes as he slumped to the floor.

Dacris moved away from his victim, exultant, singing his own glory. K'heera edged toward the dying Arvis, and the soldiers permitted her to tend her master at his death.

The Simiu's heart filled with pain as she leaned over the prostrate creature.

"You fought well," she signed. "You are a being of honor." She'd never thought there could be any honor in losing.

Arvis couldn't move his body, could only blink to acknowledge what she'd said. With a sigh, he died, and K'heera felt his death as keenly as if he'd been her closest friend. She turned her head toward the crowing Anuran who was still proclaiming his mastery. The challenging roar soared up from the bottom of her rib cage and flowed from her throat, filling the room.

All eyes fastened on her. Dacris stared as K'heera bared her blunted teeth in a ferocious challenge. Uncomprehending, the Anuran moved toward her angrily.

She sprang at him, her powerful haunches catapulting her across the distance, her hands reaching for his throat. Shocked, he stepped back.

When she hit him, they toppled; he struck the ground hard, K'heera astride him, strangling the life out of his hated body. Then the soldiers were on her en masse, shocking her with their rods until she was nearly senseless from the pain. She rolled away, trying to escape, all the while shrieking in agony.

The pain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and K'heera glanced up to see why. Incredibly, the large group of Industrious and the drum dancers had broken ranks and rushed to help her. They surrounded her, protected her, as the guards battled them, taken completely aback by their sudden

disobedience. K'heera wanted them to stop, knowing they would just bring more punishment on themselves and spare her nothing.

After a few chaotic moments, the soldiers had the upper hand again, and K'heera was grateful she couldn't hear the cries of the punished servants.

Then Dacris was there.

Dimly, the Simiu was aware of the mottled patches around his throat where her hands had choked him; she took joy in that. His throat vibrated continuously. He must have been furiously berating her, and that amused her, too, to be deaf to his threats. Then he showed her his weapon. She didn't know what it was,

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but she could guess its purpose. He raised it to her face, but she refused to flinch, to even blink, and held his gaze steady. She felt no fear, knowing that she'd brought honor to herself, and to her uncle, Bruce. This, no doubt, would be the most honorable death any Harkk'ett had enjoyed in the last fifteen years.

The Troubadour moved to press a membrane on the weapon, while K'heera braced herself for the end. Then the Anuran stiffened and jerked his head away. She peered over his shoulder.

In the doorway stood the First. Beside him was Lene.

Atle stopped just inside the dining hall and sang an order, bringing the action to a halt. A sharp gesture to the soldiers made them back away. He was relieved to know they hadn't already given their loyalty to Dacris. But he'd have to be careful; the situation could still turn into a coup.

He marched into the room, Lene following in his wake. In the center of the room stood Dacris,
armed,
Atle noted, with a lethal weapon. He held the weapon trained on the Simiu. Marks on the Second's throat testified to the servant's attack.

Near them lay Arvis' body. Astonished, Atle noted the swollen poison patches, the dripping toxin. In the end his son had been Chosen, after all.

Grief and pride battled within him, but he masked his emotions with practiced ease.

Lene squatted beside her dead mate, keening mournfully, and the First was surprised and touched to see genuine emotion shaking her body.

He turned to his Second. "Release that servant."

Dacris obeyed and stepped away from the Simiu.

Atle asked the nearest soldier for a report and he complied. Another confirmed the story.

The Troubadour's coloring flowered; the hand holding the weapon twitched.

"I defended myself against an Industrious
servant
and a scheming alien who has destroyed our food!"

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"Hand your weapon to the nearest soldier," Atle sang calmly. "You've killed.

You will be tried according to our laws."

The Troubadour flinched, turned to the soldiers. "Is this the leadership you want? A First who condones an attack on the Chosen by their
servants'?

How many Chosen must
die
before he
acts?"
He clutched the weapon, refusing to yield it as he had the last time, aboard the humans' ship.

Atle approached the Second boldly. "Give me that weapon and surrender yourself. Obey the laws you've sworn to uphold."

"The same laws
you've
defied to elevate your
servant
to gain a free grandchild?" Dacris taunted. "Why didn't you just
breed
the virgin yourself?"

The Troubadour swung the weapon toward Atle and aimed.

The First's color flamed as he dived for Dacris' knees, knocking him down.

The Troubadour recovered without losing his weapon, but Atle grabbed his wrist, blocking his aim, then scrabbled up the Second's body. With a heave, Dacris flipped them over, desperate to avoid the One-Touch's toxin. Atle could see the fear of his own death in Dacris' eyes.

The Troubadour was lighter, quicker, younger, and heady from having already killed one opponent. His moves were swift and painful, and it was all Atle could do just to control the weapon.

The First's arms grew heavy and leaden. For a moment he thought,
Why not
give in?
Was this why he'd searched for a new Home? So he could fight for his position against his Second?

Then he heard Lene's keening, and remembered his son. Arvis' unhatched child could be free on this World as Arvis had never been--but not if Dacris won.

With a sudden lurch, Atle toppled the Troubadour. "Release the weapon and surrender yourself," he ordered, gasping.

Dacris' eyes stared wildly at the One-Touch's fatal patches. They wept copiously, the First's garment catching most of it. But one drop hung precariously over the Second's face.

"Yield!" the First commanded.

Desperately, the Second jerked the weapon up, frantically trying to take aim.

He fired and the piercing beam went wild, tearing a hole through a wall.

The building shook and Atle's patches sprayed fluid, striking the Second's eyes and face. Dacris screamed and fired again as Atle tried to control the weapon's wild blasts. Everyone hit the floor, and the Industrious' frightened cries mingled with the Second's death cal .

At last Atle stepped away from the corpse. Dacris' body twisted

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in painful contortions, the final legacy of the powerful toxin. The First pulled the weapon out of his grasp.

Slowly, the servants "and soldiers climbed to their feet. The Simiu had covered Lene's body with her own, protecting her.

Before the First could restore order, a messenger raced in.

"What is it?" he snapped.

The low-ranked Armored started to sing, but he was drowned out by an explosion. Looking through the window, Atle saw shadows passing over, even as the horrendously loud sound of a thousand avians filled the building. Then came a terrible crashing, tearing noise, louder even than the avian voices, and the entire building buckled, heaving under his feet.

When things settled, Atle found himself on the floor, covered in debris. He clawed his way up from under ceiling tiles to find his messenger dead. The Industrious were panicking, while the soldiers looked to him for order.

The First braced himself on shaky legs, and dimming his hearing to tolerate the deafening avian cries, he barked instructions, sending the soldiers out to join the battle. The Simiu had gathered the Industrious and her own people around her, so he gestured to her to hurry them outside, out of the damaged building. Lene went with them, the Simiu supporting her.

Atle had finally received the answer to his message. The humans had come to negotiate.