Voices of Chaos (28 page)

"Got you." Somehow, the pleasure stayed with her despite the sinking feeling; when Alexis laughed and pointed, she moved naturally, let her eyes move across the Council without appearing to notice them, toward the Emperor's pedestal, which was once again half down so he could lead the next figure--a vigorous male-dance with ankle bells and staffs. "Mmmmm. I thought he'd be angry." The
zhez's
whiskers still had a smug tilt to them; his eyes were narrowed; thoughtful.

"Should've watched his face change, the first time you set that fringe to moving. He figured everyone would jeer you for even trying 'Fringe of Dancer.'" Alexis frowned. "I can't guess what he's thinking. Hope it's not some variant of 'there goes our flitter.' "

"I don't know what to tell you," Magdalena admitted. Khyriz appeared at her elbow, then, out of breath from the morrislike excitement, to claim her for the slow, stately
yhenoia.

***

Dance followed dance, up to midnight. At that hour, the music continued, but as background for the trestles of food brought in so the participants and observers could sit, eat and drink, and gossip. Magdalena saw Fahara at a distance, surrounded by nobles and a few wealthy merchant-types--their clothing bespeaking much money and less taste--all of whom were courting the designer's favor. "Good for her."

"I agree, Magdalena," Zhik said softly. It was the first she'd seen or heard him in hours. "The designer deserves much reward for all she has done."

His eyes were warm; the translator had a sense of missing some hidden meaning, then dismissed the matter as Khyriz's servants came over with two baskets laden with special delicacies, tall cups of thin blue crystal, and a half-dozen beverages to fill them.

Time flew; the great hall grew quieter, the music slow and soft. Some had already left, Magdalena realized, and others were going. She glanced at Alexis, who smothered a yawn and said, "It's three hours until sunup, and I refuse to see the sun from here. In fact, I'm not going to see it at all, not even for my new flitter. I need sleep."

"We can leave," Khyriz said, and Magdalena nodded. Their escorts, duties over, had gone their own ways some time earlier--to bask in the honor, Khyriz said. It took some time to reach the outside, as they were stopped often to be congratulated and admired on the way out. Zhik led the way across the lighted ball grounds, then stepped onto the moving walk to start it toward the old palace.

Sound from behind them was muted; ahead, it was very quiet, and the old palace was dark except for one or two lit windows or balconies. The ground floor was deserted; the second, dimly lit and quiet. Alexis punched in the door code, and as it slid aside, held out both hands to the cousins. "Thank you for a wonderful time. Khyriz, apologies, but I'm not going to come up after all."

"Nor am I," Zhik murmured. Magdalena eyed him sidelong; he'd been quiet and distant for some time now, and at the moment he sounded like a sleepwalker. As if aware of her scrutiny, he shook himself, blinked, and bowed over both women's hands in a very old-Earth courtly gesture, soft 191

cheek-fur brushing their fingers. "Apologies, Cousin; my father will expect me awake at the usual hour. Especially after tonight." His whiskers quirked as his gesture took in the new-style robe and the women. "It was worth every moment of lost sleep, however." He sketched a brief farewell at Khyriz, turned, and left.

"Well, I'm still vibrating," Magdalena said. "I'd never sleep right now, I'm too keyed up. Just let me change into casuals, Khyriz, and I'll join you."

"Good," he murmured. "I will go put on the casuals as well, Magdalena, and set out food...."

"Please do!" She laughed quietly. "I guess you saw I didn't dare eat much for fear of ruining this robe, I'm fainting from hunger!"

"That can be dealt with. Bring, please, the music cube?"

"Of course." She touched his arm with the back of her hand and followed Alexis into the darkened apartments.

"Odd," Alexis said; she was most of the way downhall to her bedroom. "I thought Edhal said he would leave a few lights for us."

"Probably forgot," Magdalena replied. "Wasn't there a separate ball for the servants and their families tonight?"

"Mmmmm. And half a dozen in the city--remember not to plan on doing anything before midday tomorrow. Everyone has half day after a party night like this." Alexis yawned loudly. "And I'll need it." She vanished into her room; Magdalena entered hers and closed the door, quickly slipped out of the "Fringe of Dancer," and carefully laid it flat in the carry-basket, then dragged jeans and T-shirt out of the closet. She kicked off the black synth-leather ballet slippers she'd worn under the red and spindrift robe, eased the short socks off with her toes, and, barefoot, scooped up the music cube and went into the hall. Alexis, already in her nightshirt, waved as the translator passed her. "Don't stay out all night," she said mildly.

"Yes, ma'am," Magdalena said with a grin and lengthened her stride.

***

Half an Arekkhi hour later, she collapsed back into the cushions of Khyriz's talking-pit, bare feet propped on the edge, and blotted her mouth. "Saved my life," she said. "I don't know how you dared eat in that white thingie."

"Practice--and fear of making a spectacle of yourself by spilling in such circumstances." Khyriz, clad in one of several Arekkhi-shaped sets of blue jeans and T-shirt he'd had made before returning home, got to his feet and stretched. It really hadn't taken that much alteration, Magdalena thought appraisingly: Arekkhi legs tapered more than human ones, hips and waist were approximately the same measure. The shirt needed more material across the back and less across the front, unlike her shirts, which were equal fabric on both sides: They needed to compensate for shoulders that came forward more than human, and for a narrow chest that still had something of a "prow" of ribs--but not much of one. Still--very attractive.

She got to her feet and let him help her out of the pile of cushions, then bent down to program the music cube. Warm, lush notes centuries old eased into the room. As she straightened, Khyriz smiled, whiskers touching, and held out his hands. "When we dance," he murmured. The musician Sting began the slow, warm ballad that Magdalena had long considered theirs; she moved into his loose embrace, settled her cheek against his shoulder--he was really no taller than she-- and let the music take her.
When we dance.

Khyriz, my truest friend,
she thought happily as they moved with smooth precision around the room.
Remember the first time we tried human closedance, in the Spiral Arm on StarBridge? Both of us so self-conscious, and
then this song came on, and there wasn't anything but dance.

She wondered if Zhik had seen his cousin in jeans and T-shirt--poor Zhik, having to fight a parent like Zhenu over a mere set of pleats and a sash, never mind bared forearms! Well, it was good the young noble had found some backbone. She only hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt him.

Possibly Fahara was serving as his mentor; Zhik certainly spent enough time there these days.

The Sting-song ended; another slow old song began: "I Can See Clearly Now," the bouncy-beat reggae version. Somehow,

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she was reminded of her conversation early in the day with Alexis. "Khyriz?"

she said.

He leaned back to look at her. "Magdalena?''

"I don't know if you heard. Zhenu finally gave in, and we get our flitter.

Today, early."

"I remember now what she said as we left the ball." He considered. "How odd, though. Because my father said two days ago that the matter was at standstill, the Iron Duke in full fury and utterly opposed to it."

"Well, that must have been early, because late yesterday, he and Alexis came up with a trade. We get the flitter, she gets her papers--and Duke Zhenu gets the high-tech equipment he wants."

"There are hidden shades to this," Khyriz said grimly. "What trade?" Behind them, the cube clicked over to the next piece in the slow-dance program Magdalena had set up back on StarBridge--a sad instrumental adagio from a centuries-old weekly vid about a warrior woman, the instruments and music reedy and very Arekkhi-like. Both ignored it.

"I don't trust Zhenu either," Magdalena said finally. "But Alexis says it's all right, the tech he wants isn't secret--oh, I don't know!" she broke out impatiently. "It doesn't
feel
right! I can't believe he'd care enough about cave-ins to spend what he'll have to pay for deep-seek, heat-sensing satellites!

You know, it's the...." Her voice faded. Khyriz was staring at her, eyes all pupil, and his ears were flat. "Khyriz? What's wrong?"

"Deep-sensing ... ? Dear gods!" He turned away from her.

Magdalena swallowed; her mouth was suddenly dry. "Khyriz? Have we done something wrong?" He shook his head, but his ears and whiskers were still flat. "Khyriz!" She gripped his arm. "Khyriz, talk to me! If we've goofed, we can fix it, Alexis has
asked
CLS for the satellites, but nothing has been done yet!"

For a long moment, she wasn't certain he'd heard her, but he suddenly took a deep breath, bent down to shut off the music cube, and turned back to face her. The silence was unnerving. "A--apologies, Magdalena," he said finally.

"I have ... lied to you."

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"Lied?" she whispered.

His eyes were gold, dark-rimmed--suddenly very alien. "For the same reason CLS has been denied open contact since the first Heeyoons found us."

Magdalena shook her head. "Khyriz ... I don't understand! I knew something was wrong here from the first! But what?"

"I knew
you
would know. I hoped you would grow to understand, slowly, and that your compassion ..." He clutched the fur on his forearms and tugged.

"Too late. Or it will be, if Zhenu gets those satellites. He and his allies will use them to hunt and destroy Asha."

"Asha?"
Magdalena stared. "Hunt them? That doesn't make sense, Khyriz!

They're aren't... are you telling me there are wild ones?"

"Not wild. The Asha Zhenu seeks have fled the compounds where they are kept, or have been taken away. Because ..." He turned away from her.

"Because they are sentient."

For a long moment, his words made no sense. Then she gasped, and

caught hold of his arm, pulling him around."Asha are ... those
were
Asha, out on the plateau, weren't they?"

"Magdalena, I--"

She cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Asha--they were working--but not for pay, were they? I
knew
something was wrong! It looked ... looked like a chain gang, that old movie of Rob's. Khyriz ... tell me that wasn't what I saw!"

His ears were very distressed; he gestured hopelessly and turned away again. "And An-Lieye ... I wondered when I first saw her; her eyes were too
knowing....
But why am I telling
you
this?
That
was what I heard, you and Fahara arguing over An-Lieye; she didn't want us to see An-Lieye, and you did, didn't you?" She was very pale. "Khyriz, damnit, tell me I'm wrong!"

He looked half ill, ears quivering near his skull. "You know about our last war... but not
why
it was fought. Though I hoped you might learn more from the book ..."

"That book--you planted it for me to find, didn't you?"

"I... thought it a better way.... but someone among the clerks is paid by Zhenu, or an ally of his; the book was taken away before you could study it closely." He gestured sharply. "It doesn't matter. The last war was fought by one side to

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give rights to the oppressed. The wrong side won. When the war ended, the oppressed became slaves. The Asha, and their champions.
You
know who writes history after a war!" he added bitterly. "For nearly a hundred years, Asha have been kept apart from most Arekkhi. They are born intelligent--like your blacks, or Utes or Maori, they are Arekkhi who look different, though here, few Arekkhi know it. Because they never see Asha. Or those they see are made mindless, or voiceless, with drugs. An-Lieye is no less a
person
than you, or I. If she had not been fed the drugs from childhood, she could tell you so."

"Drugs?"
Magdalena fastened on that one word. "You
knew
this when you came to StarBridge?" He glanced at her, turned away.

"I knew. I was ordered to say nothing."

"But on StarBridge ... Khyriz, you were safe there! You could have--!"

"I could
not!"
He spun back to stare at her, his eyes mostly pupils and his ears trembling. "Magdalena, I knew so little about CLS! Except that they do not tolerate a slave class! If they had withdrawn from our space, what good would that have done?"

"What good have
you
done by silence?"

He made a frustrated movement, quickly stilled. "I have done what I could to save them, Magdalena. Rescued--"

She cut him off with a sharp cry. "Damn it! Your father is the
Emperor!"

"But my father does not fully control his Council, have you not learned this?

Zhenu would kill every last Asha before CLS learns the truth, if he could!

The Prelate quotes the Holy Two to support him, and their allies in Council and elsewhere care only for the bribes given them! Zhenu has hopes he can force the CLS to accept trade on
his
terms and keep the secret of Asha. And if not, he sees opportunities in Shadow Sector! The Prelate is his ally, and
he
would free us from the outside entirely."

Magdalena hadn't heard him. Her face was pale and set. "That ahla... I can't even remember its name! I--I petted it,

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I wanted one, and you let me--you let me think it was ... !" She felt her gorge rise.

"Magdalena, I..." He couldn't go on.

"You could have told Dr. Rob, but no, you arranged for me to come here ...

not for myself but for my ... my sixth sense?
You
arranged everything, all the hints and odd goings-on... you, damn you, Khyriz, you
manipulated
me! Oh, God, I feel sick!" She shoved him aside and ran, out the door and down the ramp.