Voices of Chaos (35 page)

Because your father ordered you locked in the pens down here for--for some
youthful prank. For how long?
But he could not remember how many days, or the cause.
He robbed me of so much of my kithood, I remember so little of
it!
Except the bad, now and again. Like now.

He forced himself to go on as soon as he was barely able: He knew he could hear anyone stepping onto the ramp at either end--but if his luck failed while he dithered here, and someone did at each end of the ramp? What excuse for a clerk belowground at this hour?

He hurried, fearful of that very thing, but stopped short of the ramp's end, listening intently. No sound. He finally dared to ease from the ramp to a nearby alcove that had once held

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a guard's bench. No movement anywhere, though he could hear two male voices arguing about something, down by the pens. They didn't seem to be moving; good. His goal was in the other direction.

As he'd hoped, the storage hadn't been shifted, and the door was closed but not sealed for the night; someone still came down at first light to ready it for the day. He could have worked the seal, given time--living here and being so often locked in some chamber or another, he had learned early how to manipulate the old seals. Better not to spend the time. Though probably the clerks still followed standard procedure; they would not come here with revision-copies until the end of the first work-session. That should be near midday, just before a light snack and the rest-hours. Zhik planned to be gone by then. I
hope I will be. An-Lieye ...
she would worry until he returned. And at midday or just before, it wouldn't be unusual for a clerk-clad male to be sent on an errand, away from the holding.

His whiskers quirked briefly.
Who would believe that I would ever thank my
father for his harsh insistence on rules?
Once, he'd loathed the very word

"rules." Thanks to unvarying routine, he just might succeed.

The records-room was a relief after the lower hallway: The air was unscented, clean, cool, and dry. That was for the protection of the hundreds of years of records, but more important to Zhik's thinking, it was a relief after the old horror-laden scents of the ramp and the lower level.

Wood-bound, cloth-covered logs and registries with handwritten entries were everywhere, stacked ten high on deep shelves. No seats or benches, of course; no one actually worked here. But there was an unfilled corner behind a tall crate of rolled documents that must be more than five hundred years old. He eyed them briefly, astounded at the weight of years flung casually into a box, then turned away to locate the most recent registry-lists for the
zhez's
Asha. It was near the door, between the registries for hall servants and those for individual villages. Everything logically placed and well marked.
My thanks, Father,
he thought dryly, and settled back in his hidden corner with the latest volume.

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Of course, An-Lieye's family would not be listed by names; they were accounted by numbers and physical description. It took time, even with the list of numbers An-Lieye had written out, so he could memorize them. Even with the
zhez's
efficient system. A good many Asha had been transferred from the noble's Akherrif lands recently--some about the time of the first contact with the Heeyoons. But since just before the arrival of the CLS team, transfers had increased dramatically. As had deaths--listed as by accident or disease.

The son's ears went flat as he read down one such list. "Jhrror fever? There has been no outbreak of that fever anywhere in all Arekkhi space in three hundred years or more! And ... and a flitter accident that kills twenty Asha?"

What Asha on
these
lands rode in flitters? His father was killing them!

Destroying them, Zhenu would say. Zhik scanned the death lists and only drew a deep breath when he found none of An-Lieye's kin in them. Though he noted with a sinking feeling that no records had been added to this list in a nine-day.

But so many deaths! He felt sick: the cold-bloodedness of it all. This exact accounting, balancing numbers, ticking off victims as if they were fish in a hunter's nets
... He murders Asha, for fear the outsiders will see them and--

and learn what I know.
If Zhenu even suspected Zhik had the least hint of any of this, he would kill...

No. He would not soil his hands with such a low task. He would have Ulfar
kill me.
The hair on his arms and nape stood up; it was several moments before he could breathe properly, and refocus his gaze on the ledger. He must learn what he could and go, quickly; get word to Khyriz; directly to the Emperor, if possible.

But if the Emperor himself was involved in this killing, or if he knew and did not care? He couldn't let himself think those things, though.

Finally, under Egress, he found the transaction he sought: The family had been part of a shipment of about seventy Asha that went to Mibhor:

* 7A4, 5, 6, and 8: males, physical labor, strong but un-skilled.

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* 7A10: aging female, good vision and weaving talent.

* 7A13, 14, 16: young females, dexterity but no talent.

* Transfer completed to
zhona-silk
factory 2, pens 7, 8, and 9.

* 7A9: elderly male, destroyed: weak, past producing offspring.

Zhik's ears and whiskers went flat. They'd... his father had ordered An-Lieye's father killed! Because he would not have the physical strength to harvest
zhona,
and because he was too old for mating. Her mother, the five sibs were all listed ... all alive at the time they left the estates, at least.
But
her father! How can I tell her this?
he thought bleakly.

Another entry in the same neat hand--a separate piece of note-flimsy attached to the back of the previous page--caught his eye:

* 7A15: young female purchased by designer-she Fahara now living in Ebba. 7A15 female has been left in place because of the visits of the two alien-she, who obtain ball-clothing, lest they become suspicious; 7A15 and the designer have orders to continue to educate the two alien-she, who so far appear to accept Asha as pets and work-beasts. However, 7A15 will be reclaimed as soon after Emperor's ball as practical to be reunited with other 7A on Mibhor, see below note regarding designer-she.

* For known crimes regarding treatment of Asha, the designer-she Fahara is condemned in absence: for failure to properly clothe the Asha; for failure to teach the Asha its place and give it the proper religious readings concerning its racial sins against the Holy Dyad, and the Arekkhi; for failure to house the Asha in a proper pen. Designer-she to be removed from Ebba and returned with family to village of origin, any land-holding or village-holding belonging to this family condemned back to the
zhez,
the twelve beings thereafter to be put to iyfer-harvest.

His hands trembled so, he nearly dropped the register. Beloved gods, he'd done the right thing, after all! Iyfer-harvest! Those few who followed the wild herds willingly, to harvest the rare and avidly sought hairs from spine-bushes were paid well--but even the skilled seldom lived long. The high plateau 243

was a dangerous place, and the fanged beasts killed noble Arekkhi hunters as often as the hunters killed them. Those condemned to gather the hair seldom survived an entire season, though little was found to prove a death: a bone here, a little blood there. The
iyfer
ate their kill.

But the ball was past! Four days ago! Had Fahara already been taken? He must find a way to warn Khyriz, who could get her to safety. She and her family.

There was vindictiveness in these temporary messages that could weaken him, if he let it.
I will not. Zhenu will not win, not this time.
Zhik forced his whiskers away from his face and turned his attention back to the ledger page. He memorized the numbers of the holding pens, made himself take the necessary extra time to read the final entries to be certain no further action had been taken against Fahara and hers, or the clan "A7." Against helpless beings whose only real crime was being unable to voice the wrongs done to them.

He swallowed sudden, deep anger.
I will be their voice. To the Emperor, to
the CLS women, to the CLS itself, if I must. On the Holy Two ... on my
beloved An-Lieye, L swear it.

The vow calmed his mind.

He closed the volume and returned it to its shelf, squaring the corners so it was exactly as he'd found it, then slid quietly from the chamber and reached the alcove again, pausing so he could decide how best to leave the holding.

And, though he loathed admitting it, he needed a moment to still his trembling hands and legs. Mibhor--of all the places her people could have been sent, the Mibhor factory had tightest security. His father bragged of that so often.
Aware that I knew nothing of the need for such security,
he realized.

He will not win, not this time.

He would need help; such a rescue was more than he and An-Lieye could manage.
Khyriz,
he decided as he pressed damp palms against his robe. I
must reach Khyriz about Fahara anyway, as soon as I can. He helped me
rescue Ah-Naul; L know he has a kindly heart and that he cares for Asha.

How deep such feelings might reach, I didn't realize until An-Lieye. If I can
tell him where An-Lieye's family is, perhaps he can

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aid me in that also. And perhaps he could even get the Emperor to
intervene....

But no. That would be dangerous. Spread a secret among two and it is no secret; among more and it is gossip. Everyone knew that. And what if the Emperor already knew about Zhenu's Asha, or even had his own copy of the ledger? What if the Emperor approved?

Besides, a secret message to anyone from these lands couldn't be

guaranteed to remain secret, any more than one received on the royal island. If Zhenu suspected anyone was interested in any of his Asha, let alone the 7A family,
An-Lieye's people!
--he'd have every last one of them killed.

He didn't dare risk that. But Khyriz might have a suggestion on how to proceed. He could trust Khyriz.

The young noble was very tired, suddenly.
I am not fit for this kind of intrigue;
I am weak and fearful. The small dots, where the whiskers attach to my face,
ache from so much uncertainty. And I put my beloved An-Lieye in danger.

He would return to her at once, give her the good part of his news, then wait with her until dark.

Then she would have to wait again, while he went alone to Khyriz's estates; now that he knew Zhenu's plans, he couldn't chance anyone seeing

Fahara's Asha, with her distinctive non-Asha garb. He knew the
zhez
kept spy-devices trained on the Prince's manor and the grounds around it; if Zhenu saw An-Lieye in his company, her family ... But who would think it strange if Zhik went alone to visit his cousin's estates? He so often did.

His cousin might not be in residence, but the master of household knew Zhik; he could arrange a safe call, on Khyriz's alien-tech-protected com, to the old palace, or wherever the Prince might be at the moment.

He thought through it one more time--it was as good a plan as he could make at the moment. Now, to get back up the ramp, outside, and safely away. But before he could move, he heard the voices he'd heard earlier--

coming rapidly this way. Thick soles scraped on the uneven stone floor. Zhik shrank against the back wall of the alcove, mentally cursing the pale clerk's robe that might give him away.

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To his relief, the two males stopped short of the other side of the ramp; he immediately recognized the authoritative voice of Hyorr, his father's second-in-command. Curious. Normally, Ulfar would be the one to give orders; his father really must be away from the holding, then, because the bodyguard was always at his side. That was good; he almost relaxed. But the hair on his forearms stood on end as he realized what Hyorr was saying.

"Remember, when you make the vid to prove the two alien-she are alive, remove the synth-plas restraints and place them against the inner side of the blank wall blocking the cavern; the space where it is merely a dark surface, so that no one seeing the vid will be able to guess where they are kept, even if they enhance the picture. And warn the alien females! This time there will be no trick, as at the old palace, when the dark-furred one spoke to Prince Khyriz and suddenly used outsider words. Warn the females that any gesture, any movement of eyes or head,
any single word in alien speech!
--

by either one of them!--will cause the immediate and painful death of the other! Have you a talon?"

"Guardmaster, no," the other replied. Zhik didn't recognize his voice at all.

"Obtain one before you return. Let them see what death awaits them if they try to be clever. Both females saw the dead servants, killed by talon; they will surely not wish to cause such suffering. Now! Be certain you take the most roundabout way in returning to the refuge! The
zhez
orders that you remember this. He will be very angry if any of the young fools in your

'Protective League' should learn who funds them and orders their actions."

"Guardmaster, I will use greatest care, as I always do." The unknown sounded arrogant, despite his humble words. "Still, they are young and easily duped; look how they were persuaded to take the old palace, the night of the ball--''

"The young have curiosity and good eyes," Hyorr interrupted harshly. "Be certain! Or face the
zhez's
displeasure! Also continue to keep your--your dupes, are they? Keep them away from the alien females. The
zhez
says the females are persuasive, that even his son has become fond of the

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alienshes. Though to my thinking, anyone might persuade his weak

offspring to nearly any course of action."

"Guardmaster." Zhik heard footsteps moving up the ramp, and moments later, other heavy steps going back toward the pens. It was some moments before he could gather enough courage to look out, and his fur still stood on end.