The Cyber Chronicles Book III - The Core (28 page)

Her tone no
longer carried its old authoritarian air, and the guards looked at
each other, then laughed.

"What loony
bin did you escape from?" one asked.

Sabre chuckled
and Dena giggled. Tassin shot them a glare, but grinned, almost
laughing. Turning back to the chortling guards, she schooled her
expression.

"I do not
recognise either of you, so you must be from Niam's army. Kindly
call one of my old soldiers."

The guards
swapped glances again. "Look, lass, it was a good joke, but Queen
Tassin's dead, God rest her soul." He made a religious gesture.
"Your 'usband and daughter are waiting." He said it in a kindly
way, and her smile returned.

"I know it
must be hard to believe, but surely it would not be too much to
ask, just to see one of the old guards?" She rattled off as many
names as she could remember, and the sentries shuffled their feet,
looking uneasy.

"Used to work
here, did you?"

"In a manner
of speaking. I was born here. My mother was Queen Arial and my
father was King Litham Alrade."

The men
swapped nervous looks, then one jerked his head and the other
hurried away. Within minutes he returned with a robust, florid man
whom Tassin recognised.

"Erman!"

The soldier
stopped, his eyes bulging. He took another step, then his legs
buckled and he fell to his knees, the blood draining from his face.
"My Queen!"

Tassin looked
at the sentries. "There, you see?"

Erman wobbled
to his feet and shambled towards her, where he knelt again, his
eyes never leaving her. "You're alive! Praise the Lord! You're
alive!"

"Indeed I am,
Erman. Would you be so kind as to inform my uncle?"

Erman leapt
up. "At once, Your Majesty! At once!" He dashed away as fast as his
stubby legs could carry him.

She eyed the
thunderstruck sentries. "Now may I come in?"

They stepped
aside, bowing. One said, "Yes, Your Majesty. We apologise for not
recognising you."

She waved it
away. "It has been a long time, and you never knew me."

As she walked
into the courtyard, Tassin experienced a resurgence of the intense
pride and euphoria her queenly status had always engendered, a
sensation she had all but forgotten. Now she realised how much of
her air of authority and power had seeped out of her over the
months. It flooded back, but she refused to let it go to her head.
The cart rattled in behind her, and she turned to smile at Sabre
and Dena, who bounced with excitement. Three grooms ambled out of
the stable, and one of the sentries hurried over to whisper in
their ears. They shot Tassin dumbfounded looks, then bowed and ran
to the cart to lead the donkeys away. Sabre and Dena jumped down,
but Purr remained atop the cart, disdaining to disembark in the
courtyard.

Sabre gazed
around. "It hasn't changed much."

"Of course
not. It is a castle." She smiled, then looked around as shrieks,
shouts and screams came from inside the fortress. Niam's deep
bellow tried to quell the uproar. The unintelligible gabble of
voices raised in surprise and disbelief grew louder, then a
babbling throng spilt into the courtyard, led by Niam's massive
figure. Erman scuttled beside him, Niam's huge fist bunched in his
scruff. As her uncle caught sight of her, he dropped Erman like a
shaken rat and stopped dead, causing a pile up behind him.

"Tassin?" He
stared at her with bulging eyes.

She raised her
arms, then let them fall back in an expansive gesture. "Back from
the dead, Uncle."

Niam strode
over to her and engulfed her in a bone-cracking hug that Sabre was
afraid she would not survive. She emerged alive, if tousled and
breathless. Niam's wife, Bethan, fluttered around, overwhelmed by
the excitement, until Niam roared, "A bath! Some clothes! Food!
Go!"

A bevy of
ladies-in-waiting gathered around Tassin, gabbling, squeaking and
fluttering lacy hankies. Niam's eyes drifted to Dena and Sabre, who
expected to be ordered to the barracks.

Tassin was
quicker. "Niam!"

Everyone
froze, looking fearful and confused. Niam turned to Tassin. "Yes,
Majesty?"

"Those two
come with me. They are nobility, and must be treated as such."

Niam bowed.
"Of course, My Queen."

Sabre raised a
brow, but Tassin grinned and allowed the ladies to lead her away.
Niam beckoned to a servant and instructed him to see to their
needs, then hurried after the Queen. Sabre and Dena followed the
man to a spacious suite whose grey walls were hung with tapestries
and portraits. Finely woven rugs softened its floors and polished
dark wood chairs provided seating. Delicate tables held antique
ornaments and a vast fireplace dominated one wall, a pair of
battle-axes hanging above it. A doorway led into a big bedroom with
a four-poster bed and a bathing room off it. The servant left them,
saying that he would order baths.

Dena pulled a
face. "I had a bath four days ago."

Sabre smiled.
"You'll find one terrible custom in this country, which you'll have
to learn to live with, I'm afraid. Here they bath every day."

Dena looked
horrified. "Every day? No way!"

"Princesses
aren't allowed to smell."

Dena
considered this, her brow puckered. "You mean, if I don't bath, I
can't be a princess?" He nodded, and the child heaved a great sigh.
"In that case, I suppose I'll have to."

His lips
twitched at her hang-dog air. "Yes, I suppose you will."

"I knew
there'd be something bad about being a princess." She flung herself
into an upholstered chair.

Sabre went
over to the windows and gazed out at the forest, whose leaves
turned yellow and orange as autumn approached again. A year had
passed while he travelled through the strange lands beyond the
desert, looking after Tassin. Now she no longer needed him. A cyber
without a mission was as useless as nipples on a bull, he mused,
and his time was running out. As soon as the lasers were installed,
he would be redundant. Tassin would rejoin her high society and
forget him. That was good, and the less he saw of her now, the
better. It did nothing to ease the ache in his chest, however. The
prospect of returning to his half-life of pain and subjugation
loomed like a shadow over him.

"You love her,
don't you?" Dena asked.

Sabre turned.
"No."

"You do! I can
see it in your eyes, when you look at her and she can't see
you."

"Really? Well,
you're wrong."

"She loves you
too."

"Stop it."

"She does! I'm
right about you. Why should I be wrong about her?"

He shook his
head, turning back to the window to hide his pain. "I don't love
anyone. We're friends, that's all."

"But she does
love you. I'm sure of it."

He sighed and
faced her again. "That makes no difference."

"You're being
cruel."

"No, I'm
trying to save her from a lot of pain. It seems cruel now, but in
the long run it'll be kinder."

Dena snorted.
"I never thought you were so mean."

Sabre strolled
across the room to gaze down at her. "I'm not mean. I'm not trying
to hurt Tassin. I just can't allow myself to feel... emotions. It
wouldn't be fair to either of us. Now leave it alone."

She glared up
at him. "That's silly!"

A knock at the
door made him swing around as it opened to admit a bevy of servants
burdened with pails of steaming water.

Chapter Eighteen

That evening,
at a hastily arranged banquet to celebrate the Queen's return,
Sabre was forced to sit through a number of long, tedious speeches.
Evidently Tassin had explained at great length that he was the
reason for her survival, and many toasts were drunk to him. He
accepted the accolades with a wry smile, declining to make a
speech. He was forced to wear a stylish suit of dark blue velvet
trimmed with silver, since when he had emerged from the
bathing-room, he had found that his clothes had been confiscated
and the blue suit was all there was to wear. The velvet itched, and
he scratched irritably, ignoring his neighbours' pointed looks.
Tassin sat at the head of the high table, looking uncomfortable in
a high-necked white satin dress ornamented with silver and gold
thread, seed pearls and tiny diamonds. A golden circlet held a
sapphire at her brow, and, judging by her frown, it was giving her
a splitting headache.

The duke sat
on her right and Bethan on her left, while Sabre and Dena had been
relegated to the lower tables with the lordlings and knights. Dena
wore a stiff pink dress with white ribbons, probably one of
Tassin's old ones, dug from a dusty chest. Unfortunately, it was
stretched across her hunched back, and, although her short hair had
been washed and curled, its patchiness was still obvious. The girl
told anyone who would listen that she was going to be a princess,
most of whom looked disbelieving. Sabre hoped the Queen remembered
her promise.

Sabre enjoyed
the food, the likes of which he had never tasted before. Juicy
roast fowl, crisped to a turn, preceded a course of sucking pig
bathed in savoury sauce. Pitchers of wine and frothy ale
accompanied it, along with steaming plates of vegetables in creamy
sauce, boats of gravy, bowls of soup and platters of savoury meats.
He sampled them all, avoiding only the wine and ale. When people
tried to engage him in conversation, they found his mouth full and
politely left him to eat.

By the time
dessert arrived, he had undone several of his jacket's buttons, and
started on the sweets with a will. Bowls of strawberries and jugs
of yellow cream jostled for space amid plates of honey cakes and
apple pie, gooseberry pie, raspberry pie and custard. He tried them
all as well, his stomach stretching to its limit. When he could not
eat another bite, he pushed his plate aside and looked up to find
Tassin watching him. He smiled and patted his belly in
appreciation, and she smiled back a little weakly.

Sabre turned
to Dena and recoiled. Sticky sauce and custard smeared her face to
the eyebrows. Wetting a napkin in a finger bowl, he wiped it off,
much to her disgust and her neighbours' obvious relief, for the
sight had been unappetising. She glared at him when he was
finished.

"Princesses
don't stuff their faces like that," he pointed out.

"Well, I'm not
a princess, yet. But if I was, I doubt I would have my face
scrubbed like that."

"Yes you
would. Princesses are still children."

She sighed.
"Well, I'm full, anyway." Her eyes drooped.

"Tired?"

"No!" Her eyes
snapped open, slightly glazed.

"Yes you are.
Come on, time for bed."

He rose and
pulled her from her chair, ignoring her mumbled protests. Picking
her up, he carried her out, glad to have a reason to leave.

"Do you want
to drown in your pudding?"

"No." She
looked at him suspiciously.

"Then you must
go to bed, or you'll fall asleep and your face will end up in that
bowl of cream, and you'll drown."

Dena eyed him.
"You're a terrible liar."

"Am I? Well,
look at it this way. If you eat any more, you'll get fat, and then
you'll look like a round lump in all those pretty dresses you'll
have when you're a princess, and people will look at you and say,
`Oooh look, there's the fat princess!'."

Dena giggled
and snuggled closer to wrap her arms around his neck. Sabre tucked
her into bed, then shucked his itchy clothes and climbed into his
own.

The next
morning, Sabre woke to find Dena already gone, and a new set of
clothes, this time dark grey cotton, laid out for him. Normally
such activity would have woken him, but his sleep had been heavy
and dreamless. The soft bed, large meal and hot bath, combined with
his exhaustion and newfound safety had contrived to relax him, and
he was much refreshed for it. The cyber would have flashed a
warning when anyone entered his room, but he must have slept
through it. He discovered a distended Purr asleep on the cushions
in the lounge, and he opened a sleepy eye at Sabre's approach.

"I take it you
found the kitchen, Purr?"

The mosscat
yawned with sated satisfaction. "Yes, what a place. I never saw so
much food in all my life."

Sabre
chuckled. "Careful, or you'll get so fat you'll be waddling just
now."

Purr
stretched, muscles thrumming. "Never fear, I have a lot of catching
up to do. Many lean years of raw fish and Flux-fruit."

"So you do
like it here, then?"

"Sure, it's
okay. Could get boring, though." He gave his purring chuckle.
"There was a cat in the kitchen who thought she owned the place,
but I soon changed her mind."

Sabre smiled.
"How did you do that?"

"With a
claw."

"A claw?"

Purr extended
a chubby hand, and a six-centimetre, razor-sharp claw shot from the
end of one finger. He sneezed softly. "She thought her claws were
sharp."

Sabre laughed.
"There's not much to match you here, that's for sure."

Purr regarded
him. "Yes, I'll look after the Queen when you're gone."

He frowned.
"You do that."

In the
courtyard, Sabre collared a few loitering soldiers and told them to
transport the lasers to positions on the walls. The sergeant
objected, and Sabre suggested that he see the Queen, which he
evidently did, returning white-faced, presumably with a flea in his
ear. From this, Sabre deduced that Tassin was back in queenly form,
and chuckled. After that, he had all the help he needed.

At the bottom
of the cart, he found the humming sword. He took it to his room and
wrapped it in a cloth before stowing it in a cupboard. The sword
chimed as he was about to shut it away in the darkness, and he
glared at it.