The Alliance (13 page)

“Here I was, thinking you’d stay here and rest, becoming the chatelaine again.”

“You’ve sent those days into the past, although I might grow to like the sound of Queen Helene.” The woman smiled.

“You’ve become very ambitious, my love.”

Rachael recognized the banter of lovers and thought the pair well-suited.

* * * *

Kamran stood in the courtyard as the four spearmen bore the litter away. Red…he corrected himself, Rachael, looked like she’d had a hard time with the smugglers. Her wrists were raw and the corners of her mouth torn. The Federation medical team would repair her injuries, but Helene would make her feel better in the meantime, and that was important.

He’d caught her glance at Beyorn.
Was the Federation playing a deeper game
? He liked the implications. The man was a genuine Westlander. This meant the Federation had a presence there and had sent him here to assess the situation. He hadn’t intervened when they were about to hang Rachael and her friends, Kamran remembered him at the far end of the scaffold, so his orders must be serious.

It could mean a deal with the Federation was closer than he thought.

A movement at a window above him caught his attention, the so-called Traveler girl. The guards had been smart. The only window to her room faced the courtyard and was under the eye of the watchmen in the gatehouse towers. He’d lived with the Travelers on his way to the mountains and learned some of their tricks as payment for his services as a guide, but this Anneke was no more a Traveler than he was. She’d done something to terrify the scouts and he must know what if he was to counter it successfully.

“Sir?” his senior sergeant, the one he trusted most, asked.

“I’m taking Beyorn and his twenty for a quick trip down the coast. We should be back by noon tomorrow, or early evening at the latest. Keep the town quiet, round up any looters and hang them in the square with the smugglers. Make your own judgment in any case not absolutely clear cut and I’ll back you.”

The sergeant nodded his understanding. “My family is back there.” He pointed in the general direction of Valentia.

“I’ve sent messages to divert the High Born until we march, and Dirk has orders to protect our own, no matter what.”

“I wondered why you left him behind.”

Kamran smiled. He’d bought Dirk’s personal loyalty to him with blood on a dozen battlefields and a hundred savage skirmishes. He’d thought long and hard before leaving him, but he had to convince the men their families were safe, and they knew Dirk for his stubborn defenses. The least threat from the High Born and he’d have the families within the compound and hold it for months, if need be.

“I’ll remind the others,” the sergeant smiled. “Every man-jack here has volunteered to join us, and there’s talk of raising a voluntary levy as well.”

Kamran nodded. “Keep an eye on her.” He pointed upwards at the girl. “She gave in too easily. Guard her well.”

“Perhaps I should sleep with her?” the sergeant grinned.

“Not if you value your manhood. Your wife’s temper is well known. I heard she threatened to geld you the last time.”

The sergeant laughed and turned away. He had work to do. Kamran watched him, still smiling, and then gave a final glance upwards at the window. The girl gave him a cheeky wave, pointed to the harbor and the angle of the sun, reminding him of the passage of time.

Kamran laughed, bowed his acquiescence, and left.

* * * *

Anneke watched him go. Peter would like this man, but it was time for her to go. Helene would look after Rachael, and all her injuries were within the scope of the Federation medics. She had no excuse to linger, and there’d been too many deaths.

She could never match her father’s detachment to casualties. He calculated the odds, counted the costs, balanced them against results, and forged ahead. Her lapse in allowing the smugglers to capture Rachael, and the measures she took to rescue her, wouldn’t amuse him. He’d have stood back and nudged others into achieving it.

It was his way.

A final look around and she stepped through the portal into Limbo.

Her father was there.

“Hello, Peter. Been watching over me?”

“Do you need me to?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Would you stop if I didn’t?”

“That reminds me of an equally unanswerable question on Earth. I think it went,
when did you stop beating your wife?
Any answer could be construed as an admission.”

Anneke looked at him sharply, knowing that trying to scan his thought was futile. He was the only one who could block her out so completely he would disappear from her mind’s view. Peter rarely played word games like this.
Could he be hiding something
?

“What have you been up to?”

“That’s the same sort of question.” He smiled. “Your mother sent me to remind you it is Jack’s birthday soon. We’re celebrating at the beach camp.”

Anneke smiled. With the exception of Gabrielle, the beach camp had seen all Peter’s family conceived, even his grandson. “Are we expecting any new arrivals?”

“Not unless Jack turns up with someone.” She saw a definite twinkle in Peter’s eyes. “All he needs is some latent telepath who can become a near immortal in time, like the rest of us. Have you noticed any around?”

“We already know how hard they are to find.” The memory of Jesse came and went with less pain now.

“All the more reason to keep alert.” He smiled. “You’ve done a good job here. It was a pity about the fisherman, but he died gently in the end and the men who did it will never kill again, so he achieved something worthwhile. It’s time to join Dael.” He held out his hand and led her through the portal to the beach camp.

* * * *

Helene moved awkwardly, the final month of her pregnancy seeming to take forever, but she had duties that wouldn’t wait. Her new hospital took its first patients today and she must be there. Kamran had accepted her word their child would not be arriving for at least a week and was off on one of his tours of inspection, using the Federation-supplied flyer. Beyorn, the Westlander, now Federation ambassador, joined her at the hospital.

She wasn’t Queen Helene, they lived in a Commonwealth, not a kingdom, and her High Born bloodline meant nothing now. Not that there were many High Born left. The peasants had hung them before Kamran’s iron-disciplined troops could intervene, in most cases. The new courts had tried and executed the others. She’d faced trial too and only Kamran’s quoting of an old military custom had saved her from the noose.

His swift march to Valentia had been pointless. The news had preceded him and the peasants hung Fleur d’Gracay and her brother-in-law, the former High Sheriff from the battlements of the Keep, along with every other High Born they found. The pattern repeated itself endlessly until all the principalities were his, and he sent his levy men back to their farms and began to build a standing army of volunteers.

When the Federation signed the treaty, Kamran’s army became road builders as well as soldiers and law men, extending the benefits as rapidly as he could to consolidate his gains. Helene’s work with the sick, aided by Federation doctors and medicines, began to bear fruit and she built her first hospital, opening it ten days before their wedding. They’d planned a quiet affair, but word got around and the country celebrated for three days—a measure of their popularity.

Today’s opening raised the number of her hospitals to ten.

Beyorn had company when they met at the hospital entrance, a tall man with an interesting face and commanding appearance. “Helene, this is Peter. He sent me to the Federation with the proposal to support Kamran.”

“You’re with the Federation?” She liked him instinctively.

“Not quite.” He seemed amused. “I do business with them occasionally.”

“Where do you come from?” This was an off-worlder.

“My world has no official name, beyond a jumble of letters and numbers defining its location, so I think of it as home, my personal Xanadu.”

The name triggered a memory. “Does it have a pleasure dome?”

“You’re thinking of the planet in the Albion sector. The scout ship commander who explored there had a penchant for the poems of ancient Earth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge in this case.
In Xanadu, did Kublai Khan, a stately pleasure dome decree,
is the quotation.” Peter smiled. “It’s written over the entrance of Xanadu’s most famous brothel. The man, or woman, who can describe or perform a sex act they don’t provide, has its services free for a year. Every freebooter, pirate, and mercenary in the galaxy visits Xanadu. Even the Federation has shares there.”

“Kamran has been there?” Helene felt amused. Her husband was in for an uncomfortable time when he returned, all in fun of course. He gave her few opportunities to tease.

“You have a new patient.” Beyorn looked at a figure stumbling drunkenly toward the hospital. “He looks in a bad way.” He talked to empty air, because Helene ran toward the newcomer. Peter passed her and reached the man as he fell.

Peter knelt, supporting his head, while Helene examined him. “He’s come a long way.” Peter’s voice sounded mild. “The style of his jacket is from the other side of the ocean.”

“Kamran,” the man muttered. “I must see Kamran.”

“I am Helene. My husband is away.”

“The High Born follow. They have a fleet. I was sent ahead to warn him.”

“Where will they land?” Beyorn had joined them.

“Here. They know this is his capital.” The man had gathered strength from some deep well, for Helene could see he was dying. “Warn him. My people wait for liberation. When he comes, they will rise.”

“The flyer has a radio. I’ll let him know.” Beyorn was already running. “He can reconnoiter the fleet on his way back. It’s got the range.” He saw the solid figure of Dirk, Kamran’s 2IC on the ramparts. “To arms, Dirk. Sound the Levy bell. Close the water gate.”

Peter looked up from the dying man. “I see Beyorn’s loyalties are settled.” He smiled. The man in his arms stirred and he looked down again and his voice sounded gentle. “You can let go, friend. Your job is done.”

A moment later, he closed the dead man’s eyes and lowered him to the ground. “So too is mine. Tell Beyorn I said goodbye.”

Helene nodded and watched him stride away until he disappeared into the forest. Only then did she turn and make her way awkwardly back to her hospital. It would have patients soon.

Jack stood in the sunlight, walking the gold token across the backs of his fingers in an unconscious display of manual dexterity. There were a dozen similar tokens in the ship, all giving him access to one particular attendant, a Federation agent in deep cover with no reason to love the Alliance. Out of the habit of rushing blindly into the lion’s den, he felt a strange reluctance to take the next step. He’d done his sixty operations. Calling him back for this one wasn’t fair. Yet, Peter wasn’t in the habit of making mistakes, and his instructions had been unequivocal.

“Hah!” Only someone who knew him well would have recognized the sound as laughter. His grandfather gave him no choice, so hesitation was pointless. He flipped the token high in the air, caught it, and started forward. The time for doubts was past. After a final check to assure his mind shields were in place, he was at the Temple entrance.

“What do you want, spacer?” The gatekeeper’s question sounded surly.

Jack showed him the golden token. “I won this in a game of chance. What does it get me?” He kept his surface thoughts simple. One never knew who was listening.

“A session with a temple maiden.” He saw envy in the man’s eyes.

“Any one?” Jack played his part. “Do I get to choose?”

“No. Each maiden has her own tokens.” The man examined the ornate disc. “That’s one of Lorelei’s. She’s of the inner circle. You’ve done well.”

Jack closed his mind to the memory of the Lorelei luring men to their death on the Rhine and nodded. “What happens next?”

“You eat and bathe while she prepares herself. One of the inner circle priests will come when she’s ready.”

He nodded again, disciplining his mind into his cover personality. The Pontiff could be scanning.

The gatekeeper signaled a small boy lounging on a stone bench and gave him the token. “Take this guest to the preparation chamber and the token to the Registrar.”

The child took the token and spun it high in the air, a glittering orb in the sunlight, and Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stir. He shuffled his feet in the pretence of wiping his boot soles clean, an excuse to look away from the display, for the spinning token was a fine focal point for hypnosis.

“Come, sir. Follow me.” The boy’s voice had broken early. They must mature early on this planet.

He led the way through a zigzag corridor designed to hide the secrets of the temple compound from the outside world, and Jack followed, holding his thoughts to simple curiosity. They were safe. He must be the spacer he appeared at every level.

The crash of the portal slamming behind him should have been a shock, but he’d sensed the tripping of the latch and it gave him time to react normally. They were keeping it simple. These were probably routine tests and no more.