Hellhole (23 page)

Now the world had fallen out from under Keana. She felt like a well-trained pet, given freedom but only within a rigidly defined set of boundaries. Suddenly, she had run to the end of her leash, and it was choking her. Ill-equipped to understand the political machinations of powerful families, she had no idea how to deal with such a crisis.

Her relationship with Louis reminded her of fanciful romantic tales, but now the romance had become a tragedy. Though already married to a perfectly respectable man, Keana had fantasized about a life with dashing Louis, being the lady of his Vielinger estate, throwing courtly balls, possibly even having children with him, just like his own fine son, Cristoph. Her daydreams had felt much more real than mere wishing; whenever Louis held her in his arms, Keana believed such things could actually come true.
That
was the life she wanted, to be his companion and lover, not just window dressing to the Diadem’s plans.

She racked her brain to find something she could do to help free poor Louis. Spoiled and pampered, she was used to getting what she wanted, but Keana had never asked for anything so important. And now she was rebuffed at every turn.

She didn’t quite know where to turn, but pestered anyone of importance. Keana wished she had done more to earn their loyalty, but she had always expected that, as the Diadem’s daughter, she could just ask for assistance. Now they ignored her. She felt so foolish. No influential person had any reason to assist her, especially if doing so would risk incurring the Diadem’s wrath.

Deeply sympathetic, her husband tried to offer his ineffective support. Typical Bolton! But she could concentrate only on the unjust ordeal Louis was facing, and how desperately she needed to see him. She just wanted to hold him. Was he here on Sonjeera, languishing in a prison cell? Had he been extradited to Vielinger? The complete lack of information terrified her.

She knew that people often disappeared when they incurred the Diadem’s ire. From childhood, Keana had heard rumors about her aunt Haveeda, who had been hidden away for most of her life. As a little girl, Keana remembered seeing the gaunt and haunted woman lurking around the palace, never speaking to anyone without a watchful Michella present, then Haveeda had vanished entirely. The Diadem never referred to her. At all.

If Michella could do that to her own younger sister, she would have no qualms about ruining Lord de Carre just to force Keana back into line. But she wouldn’t let her mother get away with it . . .

Keana found the Cottage an unbearable place that clamored with loneliness and memories, so she summoned an aerocopter to take her to the Sonjeera spaceport. Someone on Vielinger could answer her questions, perhaps even Louis’s son. She and Cristoph should stand together at a time like this. Michella would not expect her daughter to be persistent or resourceful; Keana had never been encouraged to develop these traits, but that was going to change.

The Council City Spaceport had a high dome and walls of glass panes framed in metal. The main building had been erected more than a century ago, during the reign of her husband’s great-great-grandfather, Nok Crais II. Bolton was proud of his ancestry, though he had few of the talents of his illustrious ancestor. In fact, Bolton seemed no more than an entry on his family tree, a name that filled a space and would be quickly forgotten by later generations.

The thought was unkind, she realized. Bolton was not her enemy; he had a kind heart, but he was more like a sibling than a soul-mate.
He
had not wanted a change in the situation, but his own family controlled him like a puppet.

However, when she tried to purchase a ticket for Vielinger, the clerk behind the transport desk denied her request. “The route is restricted, unless you have special clearance.”

“I am the Diadem’s daughter,” she said haughtily. “That should be clearance enough.” She had never actually bought a ticket before, though she’d been away from Sonjeera many times. Someone else always took care of such details.

The clerk recoiled in surprise. “My Lady! I – I’m sorry.” He sounded like a man being strangled. “One moment, please.” The clerk summoned a supervisor, and Keana turned to see a uniformed female officer with perfectly straight yellow hair.

The officer recognized Keana. The woman gave a brisk bow without even stirring her hair as if she were performing in a military parade, then snapped back upright. “My Lady, I am Captain Kouvet. Considering the political turmoil on Vielinger, the House of Lords has restricted travel. Visitors are advised to stay away, and Diadem Michella issued specific security instructions to prevent your departure. I am sorry, my Lady.”

Keana fumed, realizing how much her mother tried to control her movements. Michella had guessed (correctly) that her daughter wanted to rush into the situation, thereby causing further public embarrassment. “But I need to learn the whereabouts of Lord Louis de Carre.”

Captain Kouvet looked flustered. “I believe he will return to Sonjeera within days. Now that the Reading of the Charges has finished on Vielinger, Lord de Carre will be brought back to the capital for formal sentencing.”

“Reading of the Charges? Sentencing?” She felt dizzy.

Kouvet showed very little sympathy. “The information has only just arrived, my Lady. Maybe you should wait until the Diadem has a chance to review the matters with you.”

Grasping at the promise of further information – finally – Keana pressed harder. “I would like to know now, Captain. What have you learned?”

The other woman didn’t miss a beat. “This way, please.”

With her heart pounding, she followed the captain to an office whose window-wall gave a view of the shuttle launchers and landing pads on the sprawling Sonjeera spaceport. Kouvet leaned over a control deck, activated a set of images. “This message arrived via mail drone. Many of the lords have already viewed it.”

She adjusted controls, and the window-wall images washed away to be replaced by an aerial view of the sumptuous de Carre estate on Vielinger, with its rock-walled manor house, its famous ornamental gardens and hedge maze. On a grassy expanse where family weddings had taken place over the centuries, a number of chairs faced a wide bench where three dark-robed magistrates sat. Soldiers, all dressed in black Riomini uniforms, ringed the area.

Keana caught her breath. On the image, her beloved Louis stood before the bench in the clothing of a commoner, looking defeated. She saw a young man on the sidelines, in his mid-twenties with brown hair lighter than Louis’s but similar facial features and mannerisms. She recognized Cristoph from the images Louis so often and so proudly showed her.

Keana had a sick feeling. “I demand to speak on his behalf!” With all of those Riomini soldiers present and Louis dressed as he was, she already feared the result.

Captain Kouvet spoke behind her. “I believe the events took place yesterday.” She wore a grave expression. “He was found guilty of crimes against the people of Vielinger and the Constellation.”

So, her mother had succeeded in blocking her efforts until it was too late. “What crimes?” Keana heard her own voice cracking.

“Something about mistreating iperion workers, my Lady, and ignoring the mines to such a degree that it put the strategic resources of the Constellation in jeopardy. Gross negligence and abrogation of noble responsibility. If you need more information, my Lady, you’ll need to . . .”

She already knew the answer. “I’ll have to ask my mother.”

Keana left the office and crossed the terminal building. The Diadem had the power to grant Louis clemency. Perhaps if she begged and promised to bear a legitimate Duchenet heir, the old woman would surely relent. As part of the agreement, Keana would relinquish the child, leaving Louis and her free to go somewhere together and live simple lives, far from twisted politics, maybe even in the Deep Zone. A sacrifice, no matter how Keana looked at it – but it was the only solution she could see.

A
ntonia was surprised when Sophie asked her to accompany Devon out into the wilderness. For the past week, his mother had been preoccupied, even worried, as she paced outside her main warehouse. Obviously, something was troubling her.

Looking decisive, Sophie spoke abruptly as if the two had already listened to the debate going on inside her head. “Seems to me we should have heard something from the Children of Amadin by now. You two, pack up a Trakmaster with supplies and med equipment and use their vehicle beacons to locate their settlement. Make sure they’re all right.”

Antonia understood that Sophie was like a mother to them all, and she worried about groups of settlers even when they declined outside help. Jako would never have shown such compassion for strangers.

Devon, though, was hesitant. “They wanted to be left alone, Mom. Are you sure we shouldn’t give them more time?”

“Try to be discreet, but after a month of reality here, they could be ready to change their minds. The Children of Amadin didn’t look any more prepared than the last dozen or so stubborn groups we had to rescue. Cults like to show that they can face whatever tribulations their gods fling at them.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “No harm checking on them. Consider it an errand of mercy. And if they do need extra supplies, provide them at no charge. I’ve made enough profit from those people already.” She smiled at the young woman. “Antonia, you keep my son out of trouble.”

Antonia was surprised. “Just the two of us? Out there?”

“Devon knows what he’s doing, and Lujah’s people already know you from the outbound passage. Who better to go?”

The rationale seemed thin to Antonia. “But I barely spoke to them during the entire trip. They kept to themselves.”

“At least they’ll recognize you. If they don’t need help, just turn around and come home.” Sophie flashed a smile.

“You’re not afraid to go with me, are you?” Devon teased. Antonia could see he was looking forward to spending more time with her.

Antonia liked Devon, but she felt uneasy at the thought of being alone with him. She could not risk becoming trapped, as she had with Jako. If she had to flee Hellhole, where else could she run? “It’ll be fine,” she forced herself to say.

After loading one of the company vehicles with supplies, they headed away from town on the last known bearing taken by Lujah Carey and his followers. Devon certainly knew plenty about the planet and its hazards. As he guided the Trakmaster around the rugged terrain, he was full of nervous conversation. He kept the vehicle uplinked to the weather satellites, always wary for hazards, but the road caused him no concern.

Antonia was content to sit in silence and look out upon the scarred world, comparing it to Aeroc. She knew that Devon wasn’t overly needy, didn’t require company every minute, but when they were together in the vehicle’s cab, he seemed to find the silent spaces uncomfortable and tried to fill them with whatever he could think of.

“The landscape is always interesting, if you know how to look at it. Because of the impact, all the strata are scrambled. There’s no telling what type of rock you’d find next to another type. We’ve got cassiterite for tin, bauxite for aluminum, iron ore, copper ore. Then there’s slate, diorite, granite, marble – all for construction stone. Hellhole may be a mess, but it’s rich in resources.”

Though she had vowed to keep herself closed off, she found Devon endearing; he was trying so hard, and he was so obviously smitten with her. The young man, though knowledgeable about Hellhole, was refreshingly naïve about the ways people could hurt one another. She hoped he never found out just how harsh life really could be.

Antonia got the impression that because she came from the Crown Jewel planets, he felt she was too sophisticated for him. His nervous demeanor only heightened that impression. Maybe she could convince him – and she wanted to – that she preferred an honest man to a “sophisticated” one.

But could she trust her own judgment? Too many images were flash-burned into her mind: her murdered parents in their home, running away with Jako, believing his elaborate lies. She felt so stupid. Why had it taken her so long to notice the blood on his hands, the darkness in his heart?

But Devon Vence was not like Jako. By contrast, the young man was entirely transparent – not shallow, but open and straightforward. Too much so, perhaps.

“My mother’s trying to be a matchmaker,” Devon admitted, then looked away in embarrassment. “It’s just that she always wants the best for me, and there aren’t many colonists for me to choose from. So when you came, it just made sense to her . . . she thinks that . . .” Devon stumbled on his words again, then lapsed into a haven of silence and concentrated on driving. Finally, he blurted, “I don’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. In fact, there isn’t a prettier or nicer girl on this whole planet, and that’s the truth. I . . . I’m glad you stayed with us.” His face flushed.

“It was the best offer I had.” Antonia laid a hand on his arm. “Relax, Devon. I expect to be here for a long time. But we don’t know each other very well. Let’s just see how it goes? Try being friends first. That’s what I need most.” She had made the timeless mistake of assuming that because Jako was her lover, he was also her friend.