Hellhole (60 page)

For some time now her relationship with the Riominis had gone beyond just business. She had felt a bond of affection with old Gilag Riomini, who helped put her on the Star Throne almost six decades ago. Back then, the Tazaars and Craises had been conspiring to get around the Rule of Succession to have the two families share power and alternate control between them. Gilag Riomini had pegged the young, personable, and ambitious Michella as the solution to break that logjam, and offered the Riominis’ burgeoning private military forces to back up his endorsement. It was a devil’s bargain. Michella had genuinely liked the old gentleman, but in retrospect she realized how clever he had been in moving his family into position. Politics as usual.

The Craises, Tazaars, Hirdans, and other families had their own sources of revenue and their own economic alliances. During the rebellion fifteen years ago, she had forced a consolidation of all military forces into a unified Army of the Constellation, but without a common enemy that coalition force was already beginning to fragment.

She had hoped her daughter’s marriage to Bolton Crais would set wheels in motion so that a Duchenet descendant could again become diadem in the not-too-distant future. But Keana had always refused to put family considerations ahead of her own selfish desires; she was never cut out to be a ruler, anyway.

And now her spies told her that headstrong Keana was gone, disguising herself and slipping away to
Hallholme
, of all places!

Dressed in a monogrammed dressing gown, the aged ruler fumed as she went into an adjacent anteroom where a small dining table had been set up. Her personal chef entered, carrying a large tray of covered plates over his shoulder, and a younger man followed with a silver kiafa service. As they laid out the breakfast, Michella’s lady-in-waiting pulled open the drapes to let in sunlight, then hovered close to make certain that the Diadem’s needs were met.

When she discovered Keana’s recent impetuous disappearance, Michella was greatly flustered, recognizing yet another ill-conceived fool’s errand, just as when Keana had run off to Vielinger in search of Cristoph de Carre. She had half a mind to exile the silly girl and seal her away, as she’d done with her own sister, Haveeda.

Trusting no one else to get the answers she needed, Michella had asked Ishop Heer to investigate – she could always rely on the loyal man. Just as she sat down to her breakfast, Ishop arrived, crackling with nervous energy. He was dressed in finer clothes than his usual style. Was he putting on airs?

Pulling up a chair for the guest, the young servant put a napkin on Ishop’s lap, while the chef removed the covers from the food with exaggerated ceremony. Michella smelled the delicate aroma of eggs sonjeer, one of her favorites, but she was too preoccupied to compliment the chef before dismissing him and the servants.

When they were finally alone, Ishop ignored his food and leaned forward across the table. “Eminence, there is bad news from Hallholme.”

“Bad news – regarding Keana? Has she been found?” She stifled a groan, already imagining what sort of mess her daughter might have caused. “I want her back home now, with as little public disturbance as possible.” She made up her mind to dispatch a well-armed military force immediately to seize Keana and drag her back, with or without her cooperation. “We may have to eliminate Cristoph as well, just to purge Keana of her unhealthy obsession.”

When he rubbed his hands nervously and avoided looking at her, Michella’s throat went dry. This must be serious after all, not just another clumsy show of rebellion. What if Keana had gotten herself into real danger? “Is she hurt?” She swallowed hard, reluctant to hear the answer.

He hesitated, took a sip of kiafa as he tried to frame the proper words, which made Michella worry even more. Ishop fidgeted with his fingers. “There is more, Eminence. As you might imagine, Hallholme is not a pleasant or safe place. Princess Keana should not have gone there alone and unprepared. So many hazards.” He shook his head.

“Tell me, damn you!”

“She joined that silly cult I told you about. She immersed herself in the slickwater and is now drugged, or contaminated, or brainwashed.”

Michella lurched to her feet. “My daughter is part of the mass delusion? She now thinks she’s . . . what? An alien? Ridiculous!” She decided to double the military force she would send there.

“If only she had merely been deluded, Eminence . . . but something went terribly wrong with the process and she fell into a coma. The drugs or contamination must be more potent than we ever imagined. Perhaps it was an accident, perhaps an attempt to assassinate her. According to the last report I received, she remains in a vegetative state in a Michella Town hospital. A few other converts have suffered similar reactions. They have never recovered.”

The Diadem felt ill. “You underestimated the threat of this cult, Ishop. And now they have my daughter!”

He seemed to have his answer ready. “I underestimated what your daughter would do, Eminence. Perhaps she should have been placed under house arrest here on Sonjeera, where she could not harm herself.”

The Diadem knew he was right. Keana had always been flighty and easily swayed, but this was not going to be a simple fix, no matter how many spies or soldiers Michella sent in. She realized she was trembling, and she knew exactly where to direct her anger. It wasn’t Ishop’s fault.

“General Adolphus is behind this – no question about it. He’s getting even with me, and I won’t let him have that kind of victory! We must get Keana back, wake her up somehow and deprogram her – then we can lock her up where she’ll cause no further harm to herself . . . or to my reputation.” She glowered, thinking dark thoughts.

“We have no evidence that the condition is reversible, Eminence. The coma could be caused by some sort of extraterrestrial sickness. We just don’t know.”

She seethed and said, not for the first time, “I should have executed that bastard Adolphus when I had the chance. I’ve made up my mind – it’s a matter of principle. We’ll get Keana back . . . and then quarantine the whole damned planet. I will regain control of every stone, twig, drop of water, and living creature on Hallholme.”

I
n the swirl of politics and machinations on Sonjeera, Keana Duchenet had met difficult personalities before – her mother, for one. Her clashes, her grief over Louis, and her hope for change had finally taught her to stand up for herself, and to cling to small personal victories even if she had little power in the government. She had come to Hallholme determined to accomplish something for once.

Such things had prepared her to face the powerful alien presence that engulfed her from within the slickwater. The ancient, exotic personality first sought to dominate her entirely, and then receded into sullen resistance when Keana fought back against his dominion. It was this battle, waged in the confines of her mind, that sent her into a coma.

Though trapped on the dark battlefield of that medical condition, she could still think, still defend herself against the Xayan presence. His name was Uroa, and she knew his entire life, just as he knew hers. They were at an impasse deep within her psyche, struggling for control of her mind and body.

The alien life was desperate to fully reawaken from the pool of stored memories; Uroa made repeated attempts, tried new angles of attack. Even while they struggled, Keana argued and negotiated with that long-lost alien life. “I won’t just shrink away and surrender to you. Since the moment I was born, my mother has dictated my life. I did not come all the way to this planet to be taken over by an alien bully! If that is what you intend, then I’ll cast you back into your cesspool.”

Uroa seemed by turns baffled, amused, and angered by her resistance. “You can make the attempt, Keana Duchenet, but you would lose great wonders.”

“You would lose, as well.”

Now Uroa said, “I am not accustomed to being countermanded. I was one of the supreme Xayan rulers in our last days.”

“And my mother is the supreme ruler of humans. You and I could be stronger if we work together. Or should I let this body wither and die? If that happens, you’ll never even return to the slickwater.”

The Xayan personality probed her thoughts, studied her life story, her wishes, dreams, and motivations. Keana probed back and finally understood how to achieve an accord with Uroa. The Diadem’s daughter realized there were indeed certain advantages . . .

In the stuffy, silent hospital room, Cristoph watched Keana’s placid face, wondering if she was submerged in inhuman dreams, living another life behind those closed eyes. Maybe she wanted to shed her human side, as a snake sheds its skin. If she survived this and came back, would there be any remnant of Keana Duchenet’s former personality and awareness? Or would she become something else, entirely?

He wanted her to wake up.

Abruptly, Keana jerked and cried out in such a loud voice that nurses rushed into the room. Cristoph tried to let go of her hand, but she clutched him so hard he couldn’t pull away. The princess sat straight up in bed, her dark blue eyes open. Her irises were fractured into prismatic spirals even more prominent than he had seen on other shadow-Xayans. She looked stoic, the eyes staring, unmoving.

“Keana! Can you hear me?”

Her voice sounded deep and masculine. The words seemed to come from somewhere far away from Keana’s vocal cords. “You may call me Uroa.” Then her voice shifted to her own familiar timbre, and her expression became animated. “And Keana is here as well. It took a long time for both of us to find our way back.”

As the doctors and medical attendants bustled around her, Keana focused on Cristoph. “Thank you for coming back to me! I heard everything you said to me while I was lost, those wonderful stories about your father, but . . . Uroa and I were coming to an arrangement. He’s a very strong personality, and we needed to find a balance, or die together. Now we’re much stronger . . . maybe even strong enough to stand against my mother.”

Cristoph knelt over the bed and hugged her awkwardly. The words of the love letters and poems resonated in his mind. Now he was willing to offer at least a little of what she had needed so badly.

“Now I need to see the others,” Keana-Uroa said, sounding strong and determined now. “And General Adolphus.”

Though the Birzh presence strengthened and comforted him, Devon still felt relief when security chief Craig Jordan concluded his investigation into the killing of Jako Rullins.

Considering everything, including the fact that Jako already had a pending death sentence on Aeroc and had undeniably attacked Antonia Anqui, Jordan formally recommended that no charges be brought against the young man. Under other circumstances, the incident might have been cause for a great uproar, but from his operations at Ankor, General Adolphus declared the case closed and turned his attentions to completing his large-scale plan.

Sophie Vence sent Devon and Antonia back to Helltown to pick up a shipment from one of her warehouses and to inspect the main office operations. Devon knew it wasn’t a crucial task, but his mother wanted to reassure herself that he was still the young man she knew, despite his striking change.

When he and Antonia finished their business, they took a side trip out to Elba, asking to see the exotic artifact they had found in the ruined camp of the Children of Amadin. The General still kept his collection on display in his office, but had been too absorbed recently with his stringline plans and his access to the actual aliens to spend much time studying the relics.

Now, Devon-Birzh was curious to see what he recognized among the artifacts. With Antonia beside him, they entered the display area, granted access by the General’s household staff. “I’ve seen these items many times before,” Devon said, “but they never meant anything to me.” This time, though, he was excited to discover a clue to the lingering mystery of this world.

Through the lens of Birzh’s thoughts, Devon easily identified most of the artifacts in the General’s collection. Antonia smiled as her Jhera personality also recalled the bits of alien detritus, bittersweet reminders of what had been lost during the impact. “I don’t have the words to label it,” she said as she looked down at a tangled cluster of shimmering wires that had been fused. “But I remember this was an everyday thing. An appliance.”