Alien Chronicles 2 - The Crimson Claw (12 page)

So she would begin with compromise. If Elrabin had to be paid with winnings for his help, then she would give him winnings. After all, if she had to be a fighter, she might as well be the best one in the arena. And if she became the best, then her name would be famous, so famous even Israi in her shining palace would hear it spoken.

Israi might have thrown her away, but Ampris was not going to let herself be forgotten.

“I am the splinter in your foot,” Ampris whispered, making it a vow. “I will fester in your heel until you cry out. Somehow, someday, I will shake the foundation of your empire.”

She clutched the Eye of Clarity and shut her eyes. “This, I swear.”

CHAPTER
•FIVE

Across the empire, on the Viis homeworld Viisymel, the palace of the Kaa drowsed through the warm afternoon siesta. Only the servants were stirring, putting the finishing touches on preparations for the coming Festival. In the wives’ court, however, all was not entirely quiet.

Israi, sri-Kaa and Daughter of the Empire, languished on her couch beneath slowly revolving fans only until the door shut behind her ancient Kelth nursemaid Subi. Then she arose from her couch, scattering tapestry cushions onto the floor, paused a moment to find her balance, and slipped on her jeweled sandals.

She tiptoed silently across the polished stone floor. Halfway to the door, a strange sensation passed through the swollen egg sacs in her sides. She paused, clutching herself, feeling breathless and a little dizzy.

For a moment she felt too unwell to continue, but she was determined not to let her carefully laid plans be spoiled by mere physical weakness. After all, she was the Imperial Daughter. What she willed came to pass. Even her own body had to obey.

The sensation left her, and she shuddered with cold chills. Then those also passed, and Israi was able to straighten and become fully erect.

She walked forward to the door, moving more slowly than ever. She realized she must take care, for she was very near her time. Tonight the bells would ring to mark the commencement of Sahvrazaa Festival. Tonight she would dine in the company of the Kaa and his favorite wives at the banquet feast. Then she would be expected to retire early in preparation for the call.

Already she could hear it thrumming in her blood, a restless, primitive need to be alone, to prepare her nesting place, to utter the melodic cries that would bring fertile males to her freshly laid eggs.

Israi flicked out her tongue, feeling thirsty and tired. This was her first laying, marking her true passage into full adulthood. Many gifts already filled the antechamber to her private apartments. The banquet tonight was supposed to feature special festivities to honor her.

But Israi wasn’t thinking about tonight. She was thinking about now, and whether she could get out of here without being seen.

Well, she was expert at slipping away from her attendants. She had been doing it all her life, first to play pranks when she was a little chune, then to meet vi-adult friends who did not meet with the approval of her attendants, and now to seize her future with both hands.

She listened at her door and heard no sound in the room beyond where her attendants were napping or doing embroidery. Those not affected by egg laying were chatting to each other in soft voices pitched low to avoid disturbing Israi’s rest.

Israi flicked out her tongue in satisfaction and turned away from the door to slip out through the secret passages. Servants used these, in order to come and go unobtrusively. Israi knew every centimeter of them.

She met no one in the dark dusty corridors hidden within the walls. She had timed herself to slip through here when the servants would be occupied with tasks elsewhere. Unless one had received a summons, none of them would be in the passages now.

Finally, she emerged into a loggia running parallel to the back garden where flowers were cut for arrangements inside the banqueting hall.

She slapped dust from the hem of her loose silk gown, finding it a struggle to bend over. She had to lean a moment against a column to fight off another wave of dizziness, then she walked on.

How heavy her body felt, how peculiar and clumsy. She had never in her life experienced such bloat, such a feeling of pressure. She wished now that she had arranged this meeting closer to her apartments, but that would have meant too great a risk of being seen. Anyhow, she hadn’t much farther to go.

The sound of footsteps made Israi freeze a moment, listening. In the distance she heard shouting, but it was only someone berating a slave for a mistake. When no other sound reached her ear canals, Israi went on, making her way slowly up a flight of stairs. The effort caused that odd sensation to ripple through her sides again. She paused, breathing heavily, feeling her senses float and spin. Swallowing a moan, she pressed the side of her face against the cool surface of the wall, refusing to surrender to her weakness. Finally she walked on.

The door she sought was located at the end of the passage, tucked into a corner. When she reached it, she knocked in the prearranged pattern.

The door opened at once. She stepped over the threshold, and swayed.

Strong male arms encircled her, helping her to a chair, while commotion broke out around her.

“She’s unwell.”

“She’s going to lay her eggs now.”

“Hush, both of you! Get her refreshment.”

A cup of cold, thick fruit juice was pressed into her hand. Israi opened her eyes and managed to focus on the three concerned faces hovering above her. She sipped the juice a moment, feeling it revive her.

“Shut the door,” she said.

One of the males hastened to obey her. “How stupid of me,” he said, puffing out his air sacs in embarrassment. “I keep forgetting I have no servant to close it for me.”

Israi leaned back in her chair and smiled up at Baneen, the tallest and oldest of her three chosen ones. He had been fully adult for two years, while the others had entered that life cycle only recently. In him the urge to go on the migration was strongest. She had to plead long, cajole much, offer him many promises to get him to stay here, concealed inside the palace. Baneen with his dusky red skin shaded with darkest blue at his throat and wrists, Baneen so handsome in his uniform of the Palace Guards, Baneen so strong and glorious in looks, yet no more than average in intelligence . . . he was her favorite, her most loyal supporter. The others did what he said without question, and Baneen served her, body and soul. She had many plans for him, plans she had been formulating since the day at parade inspection when she first saw him and knew him to be ideal for her purposes.

Baneen was here to fertilize her eggs, along with these other two selected males. He would help her create offspring that were gorgeous, but not more intelligent than she. Thus would she be able to easily control and manipulate them as they grew up. Israi had watched her father sort through and manage his numerous offspring over the years. She knew he had selected her mother from among his favorites, isolating her eggs from the others. When Israi was chosen as the Kaa’s successor, it was a paramount honor for Israi’s mother. So great an honor, in fact, that the lady had been put away in a country villa far from court, living her days pampered and separate, never again to see the Kaa. Each year during Sahvrazaa Festival, her eggs were collected by hatchery attendants and destroyed privately so that no possible rival to Israi could be born.

Now it was Israi’s turn to follow her father’s example and create her own successor.

But Israi liked to spread the odds, and so although she had chosen Baneen, she selected these two other young officers as well. All three were besotted with her, enough to do whatever she commanded, no matter how great the risk.

Someday, she told herself, gazing up at them, she would make Baneen her Commander General. The others she would deploy offworld, as governors of colonies, far from her so that their ambitions could not become a problem.

Catching her breath at last, she held out her hand to Baneen, and when he stepped forward to take it in his strong one, she looked around.

The room was small and plain, clearly servant quarters not in use. The males had made some effort to improve it. Hangings concealed the plain plaster walls. Rugs covered the floor. The furniture was of pleasing line and quality. Over in one corner stood a screen. Behind it, she knew, must be the birthing stone.

An involuntary shiver passed through her. For the first time she considered the risk she was taking and grew afraid. Then she shut it away, refusing to pay heed. Fear had no place in her character.

“Is everything ready?” she asked.

“Yes, highness,” Baneen said. “We have the birthing stone there.” He pointed at the screen. “We have the candles ready to be lit, the incense ready to burn, the swaddlings waiting in those baskets. We have purified ourselves. We will do what you require.”

Baneen made his obeisance. She admired his lithe, masculine form and knew she had chosen well. On the day she finally ascended to the throne, she might even take him as consort, for when he held her in his arms and stroked her jaws in the places of pleasure, her body sang in ways that astonished her.

“Forgive me, highness,” said Nulalan. The youngest of the three, he was pale yellow in color, with bold green streaks shading the underside of his rill. His green eyes looked troubled, and she wondered if his courage was failing him in these final moments. “Are you certain this is safe? For you? I fear for your welfare.”

Baneen puffed out his air sacs and moved toward Nulalan, but Israi chose to be charmed rather than annoyed by his remarks.

“Your concern is pleasing,” she said loftily. “Would I not be here in private, trusting myself to your care alone without my attendants, if I had fears?”

Outside a bell rang the hour, and Israi jumped.

The males shifted uneasily, and Baneen came to her side. “It is time, if you intend to do this. Are you sure—”

“Have courage, all of you,” she said fiercely and drew forth from her pocket two vials.

The one banded with red she handed to Baneen. “Keep this safe and give it to me in liquid when I have finished. It will revive me quickly and give me strength enough to return to my apartments.”

“I think Nulalan should escort you—”

“No!” she said furiously, glaring at Baneen. “I forbid it. Not one of you is to leave my eggs unguarded. Not one! Is that clear?”

She glared at each of them, until one by one they bowed to her.

“Yes, highness,” Baneen said, all protest banished from his voice. “We will guard them with our lives, for part of our lives shall be with them.”

“Well said.” Nodding, Israi held up the second vial and poured it into her cup. She swirled the contents together, mixing the drug into the fruit juice with a sudden surge of anticipation.

For three days she had been taking the drug in secret, preparing her body to lay its eggs early. This final potion would be the trigger that induced birth.

As she raised the cup to her mouth, Israi hesitated, feeling a qualm of doubt. She wanted Subi to be with her, holding her hands and pressing cold, scented cloths to her brow during the birthing. This was her first time, and she was not sure exactly what to expect. Some females said it was painful. Others claimed the experience to be exalting.

Israi only knew that if anything went wrong, the males would not know what to do.

Still, she had asked her father for permission to lay her eggs here at the palace, and he had refused her request. Worse, he had refused to answer her in person. Instead he sent Chancellor Temondahl to relay the message. Temondahl, a pompous replacement for the ancient Chancellor Gaveid, had further taken it on himself to remind the Imperial Daughter that until she claimed the throne on her succession she must go to the Public Hatchery during Festival like any other commoner. Israi’s eggs would pass into public hands, adopted by unknown Viis families.

The idea was unsupportable. Israi could not believe her father gave this no second thought. Did he not realize that if she were special, so must her offspring be special?

Since the Kaa did not relent to a subsequent request, Israi had decided to take matters into her own hands. And now it was time.

She took the first small swallow, dreading the bitter taste of the drug, and was about to take another when the door to the room burst open, crashing against the wall.

Startled, Israi dropped her cup, sending the potion splashing across the floor. Baneen and the others whirled around, their hands reaching automatically for the ceremonial weapons at their sides.

A tall, thin Viis male stood framed in the doorway. His rill lay in artfully arranged folds atop his tall collar of worked gold. His coat was cut from bronze-colored silk, shimmering beautifully as the sunlight slanted over his shoulder and pooled at Israi’s feet. His eyes were narrowed in slits of suspicion as he looked at each of the conspirators in turn.

“What is transpiring here?” he asked, his voice loud with accusation.

Fury swept Israi, a fury so intense she nearly blacked out. She wanted to jump to her feet and attack him, but her swollen body would not move. Instead, she sat there, helpless and seething, with her fists clenched hard in her lap.

“Oviel,” she said to her despised egg-brother, hating him to the very tip of her tail. “Get out.”

But Oviel stepped over the threshold instead, making Baneen stiffen and the other two males move to flank her. Oviel, however, looked at them in contempt and continued to advance. He had grown into a sour, scheming adult driven by his jealousy of her. Why he thought he should be the heir to the throne when he was so clearly inferior to Israi, she did not understand. Now she could add spy to his list of faults. Disgusting, loathsome spy. He had no right to interrupt her like this.

Oviel’s gaze dropped to the floor, to the spilled cup lying there beside the vial she had also let fall.

“Israi,” he said, his voice very soft but holding a note of sheer glee, “what are you up to?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” she said. “Get out.”